From Heartbreak, Mourning, Loss. Volume One, Detach or Die
I had the rage of a baby
Every one of my partners left me saying more or less the same thing: that I am impossible to live with! It took me a degree in psychology and years of therapy to see that I was indeed self-obsessed and hysterical.
Had I been less physically attractive and not in the acting profession, I might have discovered my problem earlier. I lived most of my life with a constant need for intravenous drips of adoration, and as an actress I got it.
Being fed a high dosage of devotion only intensified my need, like a sugar addiction that makes you crave sweets. Directors, camera men, sound technicians, makeup artists, all got used to complimenting me regularly; otherwise I would get too nervous to perform.
The world was my stage and my life a performance to receive applause. I didn’t have eyes to see, only to check if I was seen.
When I was six years old, I was already looking at myself in shop windows and claiming my parent’s attention every minute of the day —and getting it. At forty, just before losing the good looks that kept me employed as an actress, I had become completely intoxicated with a daily dose of “you look stunning, radiant, luminous, glorious, breathtaking, glowing, extraordinary.”
The only living creatures in my intimacy were my dog and my two cats. I had no friends, only fans. I would round every situation to keep center stage: all eyes on me, my problems, my aches, my success, my needs; me at the center of everything, me the nicest flower of the bouquet, me forever planting my flag in the middle of every territory. I was blind, deaf, dumb to others, to all but me, and me again, and me all the time.
I lived with the rage, the fear, the need of the child I had been. I was my mother’s doll, her toy, her claim to fame, her compensation for a life unlived. I worked hard to become a star and I succeeded, only to discover, at 50, the big mistake that had made me think that having the adoration of a crowd would make me love myself. Mistake!
What I needed to change was the way I treated others, and not the way I looked in a mirror. When I began studying to become a psychologist, what really helped me was the discipline of listening to patients. I learned an openness to others that still is a daily miracle for me.
