A Quote by Diriye Osman
Home is in my hair, my lips, my arms, my thighs, my feet and my hands. I am my own home. And when I wake up crying in the morning, thinking of how lonely I am, I pinch my skin, tug at my hair, remind myself that I am alive. Remind myself to step outside and greet the morning. Remind myself that it’s all about forward motion. It’s all about change. It’s all about that elusive state.
Freedom.
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Sometimes I remind myself of all the things that make me feel so blessed. And then I remind myself to remind myself more often.
Once in a while, I have to pinch myself to remind myself I am Nobel laureate, but that is not part of my work plan every day.
I try to remind myself of the things that I like about myself that make me who I am.
You gotta remember I was homeless. Whenever I think I have something to complain about. I go outside, walk across the street and look at my home, and remind myself of the time I was living on the damn lakefront in a car full of garbage bags with clothes, and ask myself, "What do you possibly have to be upset about?" I have nothing to complain about.
Nothing I accept about myself can be used against me to diminish me. I am who I am, doing what I came to do, acting upon you like a drug or a chisel to remind you of your me-ness, as I discover you in myself.
I remind myself: I am the best. I have the best. And I deserve the best. This is one of my personal mantras that I tell myself every morning before auditions, character work, and performances.
Every morning I wake up and I tell myself this: It's just one day, one twenty-four-hour period to get yourself through. I don't know when exactly I started giving myself this daily pep talk--or why. It sounds like a twelve-step mantra and I'm not in Anything Anonymous, though to read some of the crap they write about me, you'd think I should be. I have the kind of life a lot of people would probably sell a kidney to just experience a bit of. But still, I find the need to remind myself of the temporariness of a day, to reassure myself that I got through yesterday, I'll get through today.
Because You have called me here not to wear a label by which I can recognize myself and place myself in some kind of a category. You do not want me to be thinking about what I am, but about what You are. Or rather, You do not even want me to be thinking about anything much: for You would raise me above the level of thought. And if I am always trying to figure out what I am and where I am and why I am, how will that work be done?
I am not competing with anyone. I am competing with myself. When I wake up every day I am only worried about how I can better myself.
Sometimes I can be walking down the street, or riding a bus, and suddenly I see somebody who remind me of somebody I know back home, and I close my eyes and find myself thinking of the sea, or the taste of grafted mango, or the smell of saltfish frying, and then I come back to myself and open my eyes and realise where I am.
If I'm in LA, I'm close to home, and that just brings up all these other things, good and bad. There is a reason why I am not there. That's what I have to remind myself of. But I'm healthier in California, probably a little happier, maybe. I forget how beautiful and calm California is. It's not so much about the place, but also the age that I came to the place and, well, other things. New York is hard.
Sometimes I feel like an impostor, and I have to remind myself, 'You are able to do this.' I look at the books on the shelf that have my name on them to remind myself I have done it before and, likely, I can do it again.
I have to remind myself when I'm on a job and I'm feeling a lull in attitude or confidence or whatever, I'm there for a reason. I have to constantly remind myself of these almost corny Pinterest mantras, like 'You are worthy.'
I was really crying the morning after the indication. However I am over that now. Nevertheless, I am proud for it to be in the Rock and Roll hall of fame. But I've got two copies of the guitar now, to remind of the original Teardrop.
(After getting out of another treatment center) I came home one Sunday morning. I sat on the edge of my bed. I never grew up going to church. I never read a Bible. I wasn't anti-God. I just never thought about God. I just lived for myself and thought about myself...I was married by this point. I'd been married for two years. So, here I am sitting on the edge of my bed, nine o'clock Sunday morning. I have a son who's not quite two yet and I just broke down crying because I had been out all weekend doing cocaine.
There are some days that I have to remind myself, and I have to give myself affirmations, and I have to go to yoga or do something nice for myself. I get nervous about putting myself out there, but I want to encourage others to use their voices, too.
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