I Got Time Today...

I'm a self-tape machine

Stop. Checking. Dumbass.

My thumb swipes down with vigor as if the force with which I refresh my inbox will magically reveal what I'm hoping for. The list of emails remains unchanged. Nothing new.

UGH.

I set my phone down on the chair and then nudge it under my thigh. Out of sight, out of mind. If only.

My son's laughter as he slams the ping pong ball makes me smile. I take in the scene of my family all together in my brother's basement, a scene we've been looking forward to for months. We are here to visit and celebrate my nephew's graduation from high school. 

The walls are adorned with University of Michigan paraphernalia, vacation photos and various other decorations symbolic to my brother's family. As I look over my right shoulder, I see a beautiful photograph of the cross streets from my childhood home; West LaSalle and Columbus.

Earlier that day we drove around that neighborhood. We showed the kids our old high school, pointed out the convenience store and pizza parlor where we would stop on our walks home and finally, we stopped at the brown ranch house where my brother and I grew up. The home that held in it so many memories; from my first steps to my father's last breath. Feeling too awkward to knock on the door and bother the current homeowner, we chose to admire it from the outside, identifying for our kids our bedroom windows. I gazed at my window, thinking of how many times my younger self did the same from the inside. Visions of hand-me-down furniture and various band posters swept across my mind. I thought about the dresser mirror that reflected my changing looks and frustrated scrutiny. The mirror that served as my first imaginary audience and camera lens because mostly, my childhood bedroom encased every expression of my dream to be an actress. Those walls absorbed my love for performing along with the ache of not knowing how to get there.

I was looking at that window decades later as a professional actress, but I didn't have that movie moment of emotional triumph. Of course I was joyful that I could tell that little girl that she will eventually figure it out. That she'd find her path through improv comedy where her confidence would grow and her talents validated. But along with the reassurance, I'd also have to warn her that no matter how sure she feels about her purpose to perform, the agony of uncertainty will be a part of it, and that some days she will wonder if she's enough... a day like today.

"BOOM! LET'S GOOOOO!" 

I jump at the sound of my son celebrating his ping pong win. We all cheer for him, recognizing that his older cousin definitely took it easy on him. 

"I'm next!" My daughter hops up and grabs the paddle from her brother. 

Looking around I feel a warmth wash over me. What a perfect day. I was transported back to my childhood with that hometown visit and now I see the beautiful bonds of family with my own kids and their cousins. Missing my father is always the constant during these moments, but there's my mother cradling my son, running her fingers through his hair the same way she did to me when I was small enough to snuggle into her lap. 

Suddenly my right thigh buzzes.

"Hey there.  Couldn’t loop you into this one, but I’m sure there will be more stuff coming up.  Hope to see you soon!"

Fuck. 

I stare at the text from the producer of the project for which I had auditioned. He and I had worked together many times and he's been a champion of mine for the last couple of years. Somehow, hearing the bad news directly from him is tougher to take. I'm sure he told my agent that he'd like to be the one to let me down, but I can't help but feel I let him down. 

Most of the time, I am able to immediately detach myself from the final decision of an audition or callback. This was a learned behavior since getting my hopes up led to disappointment most of the time. 

I was on a strong streak of detachment until this one. Not only was this gig a done deal in my mind, my cocky-ass was figuring out child care for the travel to California for the shoot. I curse myself for getting my hopes up, but given that this producer knew what I bring to... nope, don't do it, Sheevani. Nothing is a given. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This post has been sitting in my drafts folder for over 2 years. Since then, I've had one of the most successful periods of my acting career including 2 national commercials and the lead role in a short film. Remembering this day and the extreme disappointment I felt reminds me that you never know what's around the corner. Why didn't I publish this 2 years ago? I think I didn't want to sound like I was whining about ONE lost opportunity, and I can see why I felt that way. But as I read this now, I interpret this piece as a reminder to look around and see what you have to be thankful for. And that one disappointment shouldn't make you question your worth.  

172 Stab Wounds

Don't mess with me

When the victim was found, it was one of the most gruesome scenes ever recorded. Not only were they naked and decapitated, but the autopsy reported exactly 172 stab wounds all over the body. The punctures ranged from hesitant to extremely deliberate, as if the killer became more intentional as the stabbing went on and on. 

"I had never seen such passion in a killing," said the lead detective, "It was certainly a murder fueled by pent up emotions... the person who did this had been waiting a long time and once she got started, she was determined to keep going until there was nothing left."

At press time, the killer is still at large and expected to kill again. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Over the course of 4 years, I produced 172 episodes of a podcast called, Hot & Heavy: The Elaine Benes Podcast. Now that I'm a few months removed from publishing my last episode, I've been able to reflect on what I did... and why it matters in the trajectory of my life.

People assume I am very confident. Once a co-worker shared that he would never have guessed I suffered from as much self-doubt as I did after he got to know me. "You just project confidence and come off a bit intimidating." I honestly couldn't believe what he was saying considering how different I felt inside. Maybe it's because I'm tall with good posture? I am terrified of getting a hunch back.

The reality is, for most of my life I've feared looking like an idiot. Deep down, I knew I wasn't stupid, but the idea of making mistakes, failing, or simply not knowing how to do something was terrifying. The imagined embarrassment crippled me. 

This is why I often shied away from hard things. Instead of the "can do" attitude that many successful people have, I celebrated the "oh hell no I can't do that" approach.

Creating the podcast was my way to push through the doubts. Instead of coming up with all the reasons I couldn't pull it off, I took baby steps and figured it all out. I also made commitment to myself that I would see it all the way through - since it was a rewatch podcast, there was a clear start and end point to the show, so I said to myself, "If you start this... bitch, you are going to finish it!" 

Some "oh hell no I can't do it" excuses that ran through my head were:

• I probably can't figure out the tech stuff to properly record a podcast!
• No one is going to want to listen to a niche podcast about ONE character in a show that hasn't been on TV for over 20 years!!
• What if I get a bunch of online hate for what I say??
• Oh great, yet another podcast in the world - who the fuck am I to think this voice deserves a spot in that space?

As I was recording my very first episode, I had to hit pause about 10 minutes in. Fuck, it was really hard. Having prepped my notes and an episode structure, I thought it would be a fun time chatting about my favorite sitcom and its best character. But I was rushing, stumbling over my words, running out of breath with a mouth that was bone dry. Later I would learn these were very common things that happen for first-time podcasters. But naturally I just thought it was my ineptitude rearing its ugly head.

I stood in my closet which served as my podcast studio and stared at the ceiling. Uh oh, it's happening. I cannot do this, I knew it. This is too damn hard. But instead of giving in, I took a deep breath and gave myself permission to feel the challenge of recording my first podcast episode. After all I had announced this podcast was coming, made social media pages that advertised the release date of episode one, so I couldn't back out. THAT would be embarrassing. Bitch, you're gonna finish it.

Episode one was published a few days later and it turned out fine. I knew I could improve and improve I did. Every week as I delved into my process for each episode I felt such a great sense of accomplishment. Once the volume of self-doubt was muted in my head, I dove in with the can-do attitude that alluded me for most of my life. Before I knew it, I was 50 episodes in and built a show from the ground up of which I was very proud and I had no doubt I could keep going until the end.  

On episode 172, I said the following in my final thoughts:

It's been exhilarating, challenging, rewarding and most of all - this podcast has been the evidence that I can overcome all the negative voices in my head - I can push away the urges to give up - from now on, because of Hot & Heavy: The Elaine Benes Podcast - I know I can fucking crush whatever I put my mind to. What I’m about to say is a cliche, but cliches exist for a reason - If I can do it, so can you - believe me, I am the GOAT when it comes to talking myself out of hard things because I don’t believe in myself. And just as I've discussed so often on this podcast, certain storylines can get old and exhausting and I’d seen the episode where Sheevani Desai gives up WAAYYYY too many times.

Now, was my podcast a success? In terms of listenership or revenue, no...  it was not a success. At the time of writing this, the total downloads are just shy of 5,800. Sure I hoped it would resonate with the Seinfeld nerds and/or Julia Louis-Dreyfus fans. Perhaps I imagined a cult following that could somehow land my little show on the radar of JLD and she'd agree to be interviewed by me in her palatial estate in Los Angeles and then we'd discover a bond so deep we'd have to work together and star in Desai and Dreyfus, a buddy comedy complete with heart and hi jinx!! Yeah, I had some big dreams, but that wasn't the goal. I didn't know this when I started, but it turns out the goal was to prove to myself I could do it. That I could finally seeing something through that was challenging and put my fear of failure to the test. So yes, my podcast was a success. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Maybe I've been listening to True Crime podcasts a bit too much, but when I thought about the triumph over my self-doubt - stabbing it 172 times with each podcast episode seemed like the best way to describe it. I'm a murderer now, folks. Not just that, I plan to be a serial killer.