Chatmandu.

Hearing back the interview I did for my friend Clary Saddler's podcast Mouth-Off in July last night proved how the timing of chance events can be fortuitous, as it gave me a little spark of certainty and gentle self-confidence I haven't felt for ages.


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I know my self-perception is often skewed by my depressive mindset, after years of negative framing that makes me feel I'm not enough, either as a person or a creative entity. But listening to our conversation a good few months after recording it helped me hear my thoughts with fresh ears and gave me a renewed, if tentative, conviction in my own voice and that I may even be allowed to feel a little pride in my achievements, such as they are.

(There's a fine line between having some self-belief and commissioning a giant statue of yourself to front a flotilla down the Thames though, so I'll tread lightly.)

It helped that Clary went all out when it came to content, bolstering the interview with audio clips from old shows and splicing in old Big Day Out/solo songs even I'd almost forgotten. Perhaps my biggest self-sabotaging habit is my tendency to dismiss everything I do straight away because I feel I should be doing something better; my mind is nearly always on the next project, or else it's telling me what I've done just isn't enough. Add to this all the recent uncertainty, and you're left with a fragile state of mind that's easily blown off-course; I've never been one to sit still for long, which is often to my detriment.

The fact-of-the-matter was that at time-of-recording, I was struggling; everything was in flux. So it was reassuring to find you might not know it to hear it back, or that I at least sound happy to face my uncertainty with awareness. This self-doubt isn't surprising when you consider what I've been through. But the past five or six years - set to the backdrop of exploring stand-up on my own - have seen me try to find my feet, or at least become more comfortable with who I am. And sometimes, it takes someone else rattling off your CV for you to believe in it. That's not to say I haven't wandered down my fair share of cul de sacs, but my eighteen years out of drama school hasn't been that bad on balance. And the trick now might be to own it more convincingly and not sweat the small stuff. To use that wanky phrase, it's all a learning curve, and I know I'm still learning; with the biggest, most difficult lesson being that who I am may even be okay (though let's not run before we can walk).

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