I have a hard time comprehending that my feelings are not factual entities. They seem sometimes to turn into living, breathing beings. One obvious discovery in my search for self is that any extreme emotion can be dangerous for me. As a hopeless drug addict, sometimes I would use over being too happy. Any overwhelming joy, excitement, or big celebration knocked me off balance. If I managed to achieve one of my hearts desires, instead of following through, I became disoriented and nervous. Once I realized this truth, suddenly it became such an obvious and destructive part of my entire childhood and adult existence. As much as I hate sorrow and grief, happiness isn’t a comfortable emotion for me either. At least I know where I stand with pain and sadness. No surprise sucker punches like when things are going too good. The big blows seem to come when you are on top of the world. I’m a horrible winner. But I make a damn beautiful loser. Now, as I prepare to follow my dream of acting and take on my first speaking role, it’s hard not to keep looking over my shoulder. The enemy isn’t following me, but inside me. The one who could screw this up is myself. A film role and parts in two web series have landed in my lap. I need to appreciate my good luck a little more. Be content instead of maniacally happy. Find calm within my crazy.