In 2011, when I was at the height of a particularly low point and my only social engagement was my weekly appointment at the Job Centre, I decided to attend a drama workshop. Part of me didn’t want to go, and I was hoping that I would arrive there late and be refused entry, but I needed some sort of jolt to wake me up from the stupor I was in. I stood there with my anxiety levels quickly increasing as the workshop leader told us to walk around the room and rub noses with as many people in the room as we could, ‘but…there are girls here…’, I thought, as my anxiety hit boiling point. I came out of the workshop feeling great, and despite how seemingly inane these warm-up games were, they were almost exaggerated manifestations of things I had to face, such as my fear of speaking to women, what I wanted to do with my life, or what animal I thought I was. Going to that workshop changed my life dramatically (excuse the pun), and I have now ended up acting in a musical. However, the prospect of drama warm-up games still fills me with dread, and I still can’t catch a tennis ball to save my life.
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