Don't know when I'll be back again.

I've said my goodbyes, I've eaten and drunk myself into a coma, nearly. I've done the shitty prep. The tax return, the ironing, the washing, the bank transfers... Hair torn out, sleepless nights and I'm done. I'm nearly ready. 

I've dreamt of this sort of trip for a really long time. Since I was eleven and I played Blousy in the school play, I've wanted to go to Hollywood. And then I'm at the airport... And I can't feel anything. Well, none of the feelings I thought I might. I take a deep breath. Remember this moment. Be in this moment. Pinch myself, fart, do something to recall this exact moment where I am sitting on a plane, about to fly across the ocean, to another country, for three months. 

We can tweet tweets and state status's. Post pics on instagram of how amazing life is right now. Because it is. It's freaking amazing. But... Honestly. This moment suddenly feels bigger than me. Suddenly the intensity of disappearing for three months, spending a lot of money following a dream that is so fragile and unsteady, being away from friends and family for longer than I've ever been away from them ever... Suddenly I think I may have not just farted, but sharted instead.  

The moment feels bigger than me, because it is far beyond anything I can comprehend, but also, so right and obvious that it would be part of my journey, that essentially, I feel like I am dreaming. People keep saying things like 'good luck superstar' and 'see you when you've made it' and part of me cannot process the thoughts. I know people are rooting for me. Excited for me. But I feel pressure. Pressure to come back with a star on the Hollywood walk of fame, pressure to be in Titanic 2, pressure to be on cribs, or become bessies with Kimye... Yes I said Kimye. I have a slight panic... and then, I have a reality check. This is just about having an adventure and experiencing a life I wanted to experience since I was eleven in Bugsy Malone. It's just a little part of my journey. A snap chat of an existence based around a dream I had of heading to the land of opportunity. It is just a stepping stone onto whatever else is next in my life. 

I could meet Brad Pitt for christ sake and become his third wife, hey... Brandgelina might even adopt me.

As I came to the end of my adventures in LA the last time, I reflected on the five weeks that had been, and shit myself that that five weeks had been and gone in a flash. We plan and prep and look forward to such events and more often than not concentrate on the lead up far more than the actual event itself. Always forward thinking, always planning for the future. Even whilst I have been here the last couple of days I have caught myself a few times, wondering what it is going to be like when I arrive home. I've had to stop myself from the panic that I know may ensue. The sheer overwhelmness of coming back to the real world like a deer in head lights and keeling over at the mere mention of grey skies, rain and the London Underground... No no no I cant do it...

I'll be honest, part of me is freaking scared. I'm scared/anxious/worried of a million things that I don't want to mention. I'm worried of coming back and everything being the same. Worried that I will always look at the price tag on clothes, that I will return to a day job I don't like, that I won't be content, that I won't book regular work, that I'm following the wrong dream, that I will somehow disappoint people if I don't come back with a blockbuster movie deal and stories of how Elton John massaged my feet whilst Emma stone bought us shots and I am worried that 'I' will come back disappointed that Elton didn't massage my feet or I didn't do shots with Emma Stone.

A teacher said to me once that worry was the egos way of protecting itself from the pain they believed was coming their way. 'If I worry about the plane crashing, or the boyfriend cheating, or the lack of job I have or the five things off my list that I didn't do' then when all of those things happen, I will not feel as bad about them. I will have predicted, prepared for said shit to hit the fan and there for when covered in said shit, It will not phase me, perhaps I wont even smell it. It turns out... I was wrong! Just because we predicted being covered in feces, will not make being covered in poo any less traumatic. Instead you will have spent hours, days, weeks, months, in a negative, shitty (mind the pun) state of mind, to inevitably, what is SHIT anyway and will not BE any less SHIT because of said prediction. My teachers shortened version was... 'Worrying that the plane will go down, will NOT make it any less painful when it does'

As an actor, you get asked such questions as, 'When's your big break then?' Or 'You want to be in Easterners right?'or 'When are you gong to give up?' And I would quite like to ask... 'When are you going to give up your day job?' There is no definitive answer. There is no, (If I don't come back with a job in Curly Sue 2 or Fast and Furious 12 then I quit) This just is it... and no worrying otherwise will help.

These are the days... THE days, the ones we look back on and go 'Sheeet, I did that, I went there, I met them...' Those days are now . Brene Brown (my own personal Guru) says that the difference between people who resist joy (grumpy fearful people) and the people who accept joy less grumpy fearless people), is that the people who accept joy practise gratitude. Horrendously, practising gratitude was not built in me innately. It wasn't that I was ungrateful, it is just that my pattern was to focus my energy on the crap that went wrong that week, or the things I didn't get done and it was less easy to focus on the small little things that happened that made my day/week wonderful. 

So now I have the 'ten things I am grateful for' list and it helps me remember to enjoy every second because... these are the days!

I look in the mirror during my trip in LA... I'm two Dodger game hot dogs down, one Cheesecake Factory cheesecake in, many cocktails, a greasy Fatburger, a tub of Salted Caramel Ben and Jerrys  and a few frappacinos devoured and I stand in front of the mirror and...

Oh no she diaaaant just think the F word!!!

FAT!!!

Shit!!! I have fat thighs, my muffin top looks more muffiiny and my belly looks like it could be carrying a 4 month old child... I rationalise... that I am the same size as yesterday and yesterday I felt slim! But I FEEL fat. Does anyone know what I mean? I am utterly HUGE and noone in their right mind would want to even look at me. Don't look at me people...

THIS THOUGHT PROCESS IS UTTER BOLLOCKS. And in reality,

this is not about the size you are

. FAT, for me, is not a size, it is a feeling. People smaller than myself 'feel' fat and despite my look of horror when my size 8 friend says she hates how large her thighs are, I get it. She knows she isn't fat, as do I, we also both know, being larger is not a sin. I look at people larger than myself and adore their bods, want their bods, admire their bods and sometimes, don't even notice their bods. Who cares. Truly, when someone is beaming and happy and has an amazing energy, who really notices what bloody size they are. Which is why for me, I understand all these crazy thoughts to be about my 'feelings' and not my actual size. I know some people will read this and yawn. Want me to 'shut the front door' about my 'feeling tubby' and that's OK. That is the whole point of my blog post. I am not against being larger.

Being physically larger will not change my worth and it will not destroy my world.

I have been larger and could easily get larger.

There is nothing wrong with being larger

. The word fat should not exist. Noone IS fat. We may 'have' fat and 'feel' fat but size does not make us who we are. In reality. In our heads, well that is a whole other ball game. It has taken me a long time to get with the programme regarding the reality of all of this. I was a chubby, podgey child. My relationship with food and the image in the mirror were warped, and it has taken a very long time to understand and also get over my crap. And yes, after a few indulgences and a few hormones later, the irrational, insane thoughts creep back in occasionally.

I am writing this because you do not have to be over weight or under weight to have a bad relationship with your body or the food you eat.

That is what this is about.

As I head into the world of personal training and I am about to take other peoples goals and wishes and thoughts into my own hands regarding their own body. The only body that they have. The one that they have been looking in the mirror at, for the whole of their lives. The one body that they have scrutinised and mentally bashed, and possibly been ashamed of, embarrassed of. That one body that wore their wedding dress, bathed in that bikini when they met the love of their life, gave birth to their first child, trained for 6 months before doing the marathon, fed crap food to, fed good food to, fatty food, no food, the same body that they have decided that they want to change, adapt, make better, improve, tone, firm, lean up... the same body that they want to see looking back at them and for them to be proud of... 

I have had to ask myself the question, what is it that we want? What body is it that we are aiming for, what are we chasing? Why are we limiting our calories, cutting the carbs, upping the protein, drinking hideous flavoured drinks, working out six times a week? Why are we trying that funky keep fit class or faddy weight lifting regime? Why are we sending ourselves insane? And the answer that I come up with when I ask why I have gone through all that craziness above, is because I want to FEEL good. Yes that can coincide with looking great too, but my perception of 'looking great' changes from day to day, month to month, and essentially if I FEEL slim, I usually think I LOOK slim. 

Someone ages ago asked me the question, if I could be larger than I am now, but FEEL great about my body and had the perception that my body was in the place I wanted it to be; or I could have the body I thought I wanted, (you know the one, the Victoria Secret model bod) but I would still FEEL fat, and crappy and down about my body... which one would I choose? 

And honestly, the answer I gave back then, was the ugly truth, the latter.

I went to see a lecturer last night in LA, Jason Glass. He spoke about us as humans, always wanting something in 'form' Wanting a certain amount of money, a certain acting job, a particular number on the scale. He talked of how sometimes, we get the thing we want, in 'form' and it actually doesn't feel as good as we had imagined or hoped or dreamed. He says this is because what we really want is the 'essence' of what that form brings. We want the time and freedom that the form of money can buy, we want the validation perhaps, as well as the excitement of a new job, a new character, a new experience to have, we want the feeling we feel when we step on the scale and see the number we have always been searching for... We want the '

feeling

' the '

essence

' of these things that often do not actually come from receiving the 'form' of it, or it certainly does not last forever, the feeling nor  literally having those things in form.  He mentions, instead of working towards the actuality of 'getting' these things, that we have all the incite and possibility to have the essence of all the above, already in us. Imagine if one meant we got the other. Imagine if we started feeling great, loving our bods (muffin top and all) What if we looked in the mirror and liked what we saw already and as a result, we nourished it, looked after it, because, well, that just makes sense. I love a pinterest quote, and one sticks in mind that says 'Love yourself enough to live a healthy life' In feeling good about our large, oversized ear lobes and our cellulitey elbows, perhaps we will finally get the bod we have always wanted.

Now I know a lot of this sounds like mumbo jumbo to some. That's OK. All I know is that as I embark on helping people change their bodies, I'd like to firstly start with the thoughts about their bodies, their attitude to food and exercise, because as Brene Brown would say 'There is no quick fix 'how to', you cannot make the 'how tos' work without talking about the things that 'get in the way.' For me, the 'things that get in the way of me eating healthy consistently or of me getting the results I want, is that I eat five cakes to rebel against the people that say things like 'Oooo aren't you on a diet?' Or I stuff my face with an extra large popcorn (to myself) because I don't want people to think I care too much about my body.

God forbid, anyone could know that I actually want a fit healthy body, that would be shameful.

I eat double cream out of the tub with a spoon to make people laugh so that people don't think I take eating or not eating too seriously, because we all know what we think of people that take this stuff seriously... '

Bore off, there is more to life than worrying about what you eat or don't eat'

And yup, there really is, but for some, these thoughts are just ingrained in us, and we don't want them to be, so we think going to the gym everyday and eating nothing, will take those thoughts away, when in fact, they just magnify them tenfold. So lets talk about the 'things that get in the way' and perhaps then, and only then, can we attempt to get that Victoria Secrets bod...

Oh wait... that is not the point? shit!!!

In class the other day, we were asked to work on 'vulnerability' ahhhhh vulnerability, fabulous. *insert straight face emoticon here.

I began to fret, my palms went clammy, my armpits started sweating profusely and as I watched other people in class go up, and 'be vulnerable' I panicked. I had no heart. I was emotionless. No tears came, I just sat and watched, numb and empty. My brain fogged over. Who could I sit and talk to and be honest with and what could I get vulnerable about? Because that was all he was asking us to do. Substitute a person from class, for someone you want to talk to and be honest with, and let yourself get vulnerable.

OK so here is the deal... In 'real life' 'real time' I get vulnerable over a jelly bean, I can cry because the guy serving me coffee was mean, or because my pink socks turned my grey undies even greyer. I cry when my boyfriend eats the last of my crisps or when there is a dog that looks sad sitting outside of the super market... and I was under the impression I couldn't substitute one of the class members for a dog. I'm emotional, I am vulnerable. I wear my heart on my sleeve and feel fragile at the best of times. What was even more frustrating was I am hormonal (its that time of the month) yet I couldn't shed a sad tear or connect with what people were saying. Because my brain was to busy going 1000 miles per hour dealing with all my thoughts.

I sat for at least two hours wondering who I could talk to... My Dad? Daddy issues? Nope that didn't feel right, I couldn't connect with that. My ex who cheated on me? Nope, Over it. My mum, talk to my mum about my worry and concern for her happiness? That felt better, that felt right, but going over the things I would say just didn't make me feel sad. There was concern, and of course some vulnerability, but it was like I was made of led.

I know what makes me sad deep deep down. I know what frustrates me, upsets me and what makes me feel screaming and throwing a tantrum.

Myself. 

I couldn't possibly talk to myself could I? Wouldnt everyone think I was narcissistic? What was crazy was, I was sitting there feeling everything the teacher was asking us to feel. I had felt vulnerable from the second I had walked into class. Vulnerability runs through my veins. What stops it from pouring all over the floor, what holds the vulnerability in? For me, I guess it is trust, or lack of. With my mum or my closest friends I feel no ways about saying 'I feel lost' or 'I feel dislikeable' I delve into those feelings head first and verbally projectile vomit them all over the place. But to admit to a room full or pears, people who you think, want you to be confident and self assured. People who you are sure will judge you for your needyness to be liked, or to impress. Because we all know its not cool to care if people like you right? We are meant to be these humans with assurance up to our eyeballs. (not too much or that is threatening) but just enough for people to 'not' think that you NEED friends or NEED to be accepted. Needyness is repelling. I know this. I feel it, breathe it and lecture that shiz all day everyday... but deep down, all I kept thinking through the whole of class is...

'I hope these people don't think I am pretentious' 'I hope they don't think I am boring' 'I hope they don't judge me and want me to fail' 'I hope they don't sit there praying they don't get put in my group' 'I hope they think I deserve to be there as much as them'

and whilst I am sitting there feeling vulnerable, trying to somehow find vulnerability and not knowing where to look, I am torn between who I am and who I want to be, against who I am not, and who I want people to think I am... and in all of that I know this is all insanity.

I have read many a self help book. I get what they say about, being in the moment, being present, not needing peoples validation. I hear Echart Tolle and Marianne Williamson loud and clear. I preach this stuff all day long. Because I know its true. I know the essence of who I am, and being 'me' is all I can be. The answer is truly in being comfortable with who you are, and deep down, I believe that accepting who I am, and being OK with that, is what people will ultimately like. I like people who are open and real. Its people that do the most covering up that I cant hack, despite having compassion and knowing where the ego crap comes from, because I have those insecurities too.

I came out to LA feeling rather confident in who I am. I have done a lot of soul searching over the last few years. I know peoples validation means nothing, I know that I don't need anyone's approval, I know that not everyone will like me, and often I know that will be because of an insecurity in them and not a default in me. I know that when I don't like someone it is usually best to look at myself and see what it is in me that I see in them. I know that only the universe (substitute with God or Love or another universal word for something so great you cannot define) knows the truth. And at the end of the day that is all that matters. I know that not everyone will think I am a good actress, or that I am funny, or interesting and that it is all subjective and as I approach thirty I felt like I was finally coming to terms with that...

Then you get on a plane and fly for 11 hours, move into a place with strangers, spend time with a best friend completely out of context to your relationship and are thrown by how different you actually are, and with those differences come uncertainty, you get given a manual car (when you wanted an automatic) drive for hours on the other side of the road, have you Sat Nav break and your phone die, you get lost and you join a class of strangers who all seem so intimidatingly good, and close and like family and you join the group and you go on stage and you cant seem to show case your personality because you have your guard up, a sensor on.

Dont show them who you really are in case they dont like that version.

instead you show them a mediocre, safe version of yourself and you step off stage and kick yourself as you go through all the things you could have said, should have said and you pray that next time you go up you will be 'you' and all of that soul searching and all of those books full of wisdom disappear and you become that effing 14 year old again.

You sit between this conundrum of knowing what makes sense, knowing who you are, being proud of who you have grown up to be. Your happy as larry at the self discovery and the courage you have had to come out and try new things. You are ecstatic to be included in such a group of talent and proud to be involved...

Against the extremity of feeling increasingly not good enough to be in class, to be in LA, to be chasing such a career. And then the knowing that all of that fear is just my Ego playing games with me. My Ego trying to make me believe those thoughts. Because I know I am enough. Wholeheartedly. Brene Brown would say. The aim is to lie in bed and say 

yes I am imperfect and afraid, but that doesn't change the truth that I am also brave and worthy of love and belonging. 

So how do you fight these demons? The ones that eat you up and make you think your crazy. The ones that make you talk way too much, divulge too much or say nothing at all, sit there quietly just smiling at everyone. The ones that make you ingratiate and eager to please or the ones that make you act all care free and nonchalant. The ones that make you stay seated and not to go up and perform 'vulnerability'

The only answer I think I have discovered is to be aware of those dark places and you call them out, you diminish the very thing your scared of. How can your Ego win if you accept it. What power does it have if you see it and you do your thing anyway?

All that kept me from going up was the voices that said, 'your not emotional enough, your not connected enough, your not free enough, your not nice enough, your not trained enough or smart enough or honest enough. Your not enough. And all I was asked to do was go up and share that. Share what I felt I was lacking. Love for myself. As our teacher said, all vulnerability is, is Love. It stems from love. And ultimately my biggest fear was that I didn't love myself enough to bare my soul to an audience of strangers who had bared their soul to me.

So next weeks class is going to be the time I don't let my Ego get the better of me. The time I stop worrying about what other people think and trusting that just being open and honest is good enough.

Brene Brown says to

Dare greatly

... and that is what I shall do. Eeeeeek!