From Anxiety to Freedom: How Clowning Punched My Inner Critic in the Face

Tout bouge / Everything Moves - Jacques Lecoq

I wasn’t sure if I should write this. Honestly, sharing something this personal feels a little like standing on stage in my underwear. But I’ve realised that if you’re going to live with any kind of freedom, you’ve got to get comfortable being uncomfortable. So here we are. This is my story, one that starts with feeling completely trapped by anxiety and ends with finding a strange, beautiful kind of freedom through clowning.

Let me take you on a trip. Not a fancy, passport-required, white-sand-beach kind of journey, but an inner one. A messy, sometimes ridiculous, often frustrating journey from anxiety to freedom. Warning: it’s not a straight line, and at some point, you’ll probably question your life choices. I did. More than once.

I used to live in a mental prison. Picture a tiny cell, with walls made of every self-doubt, anxiety, and fear you can imagine. It wasn’t dramatic; there were no chains or grandiose epiphanies, just the slow drip of inner criticism, chipping away at me. My inner critic, let’s call him Gerald, was like a bad housemate who never did the dishes and always had something snarky to say about everything I did.

Cue the scene: I’m standing in my kitchen, frozen, staring blankly at the counter. Was I lost in thought? Contemplating life’s mysteries? Nope. I was stuck. Anxiety does that. Turns you into a statue with a racing heart. I call it “Frozen in the Kitchen” because it’s one of those absurd moments where you realise something’s got to give or you’ll stay there forever, waiting for a sign from the heavens.

Then, one day, my body whispered, “Move.” And not in the “motivational Instagram quote” way. More like, “Hey, human, just take one tiny step, for the love of all that’s holy.” So I did. It wasn’t some magical, anxiety-killing breakthrough, but it cracked something open, enough to let a little light in.

What followed was a chaotic, beautiful stumble toward freedom that involved more than just a little bit of clowning. Not the circus kind, but a liberating, absurd exploration of movement and play. I packed my bags (mentally) and enrolled in Ecole Jacques Lecoq in Paris because, apparently, I thought I needed a challenge. This place was about physical theatre, not just heady ideas. It was about MOVEMENT. And that’s where clowning came in.

Clowning turned out to be the most unexpectedly profound and liberating thing I’ve ever done. Through clowning, I learned how to laugh at Gerald (my inner critic), how to break out of my mental freeze, and, most importantly, how to reclaim my freedom, inch by ridiculous inch.

Clowning gave me permission to move, feel, and express without the self-conscious need for perfection. It taught me to embrace being foolish, awkward, messy, and to find the beauty in that. It wasn't about being funny (although important); it was about being free.

Alicia on her way to Freedom

What does freedom actually look like?

It’s a tricky thing, isn’t it? Freedom. It’s not as neat and tidy as we like to think. But here’s my take:

Physical freedom: Letting my body move without tension, fear, or expectation. Turns out, just moving your body can shake loose the cobwebs of anxiety. And no, it’s not about doing it right. Just do it.

Emotional freedom: Letting out the ugly cry, the rage, the belly laughs, all of it. Clowning didn’t give me a space to perform emotions; it gave me a space to be them. No filters, no masks (well, except for the red nose).

Mental freedom: Learning to tell Gerald to sit down and shut up. He’s a persistent little bugger, but through clowning, I found ways to quiet him down. Let’s face it, Gerald will always be there, but I’ve learned to laugh at him now. (Seriously, the guy’s a joke.)

Creative freedom: Being allowed to imagine wildly without sticking to the script. Screw the rules, the expectations, the “shoulds.” Clowning was a giant permission slip to create outside the lines.

Freedom of identity: Realising that who I am is a constantly shifting, fluid thing. And that’s okay. Clowning let me embrace my many selves, the absurd, the serious, the messy, all of them are welcome on stage.

Spiritual freedom: Finding a deeper connection to the wild, unpredictable, and often hilarious essence of life. Clowning aligned me with something greater, like life itself has a sense of humour and is just waiting for us to laugh along.

So if you’re feeling stuck, frozen, or just ready to throw in the towel, remember this: sometimes all it takes is one tiny movement. Move your body, move your mind, hell, just wiggle your toes. And if you’re up for it, maybe consider clowning, it’s more liberating than you’d think. Freedom doesn’t look like perfection. It looks like movement, messy and imperfect, but oh-so-beautiful.

Until next time, move like your life depends on it, because it just might.
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Alicia xx