Turning that corner

M gave me so much time, energy and love on Monday that it took me 48 hours to recover. Seven hours. She spent 7 hours with me, talking, laughing, and just enjoying each others’ company. And she brought along a small gift: a special pot with 3 hyacinth bulbs nestled within. She also brought along her youthful enthusiasm and straight talk, Dutch style.

Work with a translator. That’s M’s two cents on getting my Dutch writing up to speed. Why didn’t that cross my mind? It never did. But as I told her I don’t need how to learn to put a story together, I just need help with how to say it in Dutch, that’s what came out of her mouth. OMG! It’s such a GREAT idea I’m getting a bit antsy right now just thinking about it. And T’s already working with a GREAT translator on his book. An hour a week, going over my short Dutch attempts, would help me SO much.

And M gave me an instant money making idea once I’m cleared to teach. Hold lessons on how to write a thesis. M told me her schooling was similar to mine in that once she reached a certain level, she was expected to churn out a thesis with zero instruction on how to do it. She tried to get extra instructions from a teacher, but he just ended up confusing her more than helping her. Me? I managed – somehow – to get a charity status in Ireland due to my technical writing skills when I was told that was next to impossible. I put together a 40-50 page packet that included research, graphs, and a logical argument backed up all the way thru it. I KNOW how to write this stuff. When I slipped all that into our conversation, M said: Teach people how to do that. Everyone will pay for it. T almost flew off into mega mania when he heard the idea; he’s convinced it’s brilliant. And… Well, let’s face it. If I hold independent classes and get 20 students at 500 euro a head, that’s a good chunk of change.

To top things off, M held out a bit of hope for our filming ideas, too. As she said, we may get more of our crew together post vaccines. Everyone is anxious to get out and do fun stuff.

Most of all, M gave me big, long hugs. I told her I loved her and she said the same back to me. Didn’t know I needed that so much until I received it. Almost cried. I didn’t; I was too happy and excited for tears. But recalling it chokes me up. I love her, without doubt. And I believed her when she told me she loved me. The evidence was all there, right in front of me.

I am full of plans and future ideas. I’m full of hope, something I’ve been lacking as of late. Thank you, M. Thank you, Goddess. Thank you, Universe. Thank you for sharing that positivity with me. It was like a shot in the arm, a human vaccine against loneliness and depression. Feels like I can live on that for another 6 months, easily.

NL news: Our infection and hospitalisation rates remain about the same. Now the public fight has moved on to support packages and harsher lock down measures. With schools in danger and businesses closed down, everyone is feeling the effects. The idea is the same here as in many countries: vaccinate front line workers and the elderly first. That will help a lot. But when will we peons get it? No idea.

Personal update: Ugh. I’ve got an appointment on Friday for a check up at the dental surgeon’s. And suddenly, I have a sore white spot by that tooth. Looks like a very small infection. It was fine. Better than fine. Now, just before I see the doc, it gets worse. Fuck. I’m hoping it’s very, very small and won’t mean more surgery. I’m hoping it just goes away. *sigh* But I’ll get thru whatever treatment I have to go thru. That much, I’ve learned. And, if I’m honest, that tooth has been the source of so many problems for me for so long, I’ll almost welcome it getting yanked out of my mouth. Almost.

The next year is going to be interesting for me. I hope to get some money set aside so I can rent a cottage for a weekend, somewhere my film group can just crash, and we all meet there to film all weekend and have fun. I’ll be planning and doing my certification course. Talking to our attorney to see how much it may cost to hold my own, independent classes. Seeking out other job opportunities. Talking to translators and beginning work on my writing. In other words, I’m gonna be busy for a change.

And no, I still don’t have 100% confidence that I’ll be able to do it. Particularly when I react so much to a bit of social activity. I can’t keep doing that if I’m out there trying to make things happen. I have to get used to it. Somehow (in our still half locked down society) find a way to ease myself into more face to face contact. Find a way that I can give my all one day, get a good night’s sleep, and do it again the next day.

Even tho I’m tempted to say ‘that’s all next year’, a part of me realises ‘next year’ is less than a month away. In reality, all of this is just around the corner.

And for once in a very long time, I’m actually looking forward to turning that corner.

We can do this

Falling, falling…caught.

Heard from M about the film project. I have to say, every time I talk to M I end up loving her a little bit more. She’s more than 100% behind me, and just so damned brilliant in everything she does. Regardless of time tables or who ends up working with us, M’s on board and willing to offer every bit of her time and experience. I couldn’t be happier.

Wrote, edited, and re-wrote my little bit in Dutch. It’s the salmon on my feet story, and I talked about learning the Dutch language in it. I think it’s good. Might have tried to use a few American sayings, tho… I do that. Translate my English into Dutch, but the Dutch don’t use that saying. It ends up sounding silly to them. My bro will print it up for me so I can pass it by my teachers. They’re not asking for anything like it, but I need the practice and correction.

Because I finally figured it out. As I began writing, I could feel the words cementing into my brain. Overnight I became far more verbose in Dutch. My learning process is: read, write, talk. I’m confident in that. Been having major deja vu moments. Struggling with stories, sentences, grammatical structure. I remember sitting down and trying to write stories when I was ten or 12. I’m at that break through point with the language. I can feel it.

My bro and I had an opportunity to purchase discount tickets to the Rotterdam zoo. I’m not a huge zoo person; more often that not, I find them depressing. Animals caged up like that…nope. Not for me. But it’s a big thing here in the city. Our insurance company offered entry tickets for 7.50; a deep savings from the normal 20 fee. We have to go on Wednesday afternoon – part of the deal. I put it on my calendar. Biggest thing: buying a new umbrella in case it rains.

Rain, rain, rain. We’ve been getting it. I’m happy for it; we’ve been in drought the entire year and the Eastern part of the country still hadn’t recovered from last year’s drought. I guess it says a LOT that I lost my umbrella sometime in spring and didn’t feel I needed a new one ’til now. That’s how dry it’s been.

Hate getting it all at once, tho. A bit of rain is nice. A week of rain is needed. Incessant rain just gets depressing.

And the last thing I want right now is weather related depression! I just got a big shot in the arm from M. My turn to get busy: contact the director and get an answer from him, work on the crowd funding page, keep my spirits up and my mind focused. I can do this.

Or, better said, we can do this.

I’m incredibly strong

Finally!! I’ve been waiting for over a year. Watching. Anticipating. Doing my damnedest to be patient.

Popped by the DVD area in MediaMarkt after dining out yesterday. At long last, I own a copy of Atomic Blonde. Didn’t see it in the theatre, just took a chance on it because I love Charlize Theron. Got to see it last night. Our early tv viewing included two recorded interviews with Charlize on different tv programs; even my brother couldn’t deny it seemed like the Universe wanted us to watch Atomic Blonde last night. …You know, I’m not sure I love the story. It’s not something I’d just watch if CT wasn’t in it. But DAMN! and HOORAH! At last, real fight scenes with a woman. REAL fight scenes; I had to mention how they reminded me of the great fight scene in They Live: down and dirty, to the very last. Love the look on the film. The blue coloring, the stylish sets, the shots. Great blood splats, too. And while I foresaw some of the twists, I didn’t foresee the very ending. Yet another incredible performance by Theron. Damn! She’s good.

Still on the viewing block: Black Panther and Annihilation. Going to spread those out, one a week, so we keep having something new to see on the weekends.

Saturday. Rain outside. Thunderstorms, actually. Listening to the occasional rumble of thunder as I write. Plans are to head out and get to the gym, but the patter on the window isn’t helping me complete that particular idea.

I feel hopeful. I hope my hope isn’t false hope built on mania. Done that before. But… I took stock of the looks I received when I viewed the building we’ll be meeting in. Naturally, I was asked what I wanted the room for. Well, I’m a writer. A playwright. I’ve got several scripts I want to move forward with, so I’m pulling together people in the film industry and recording industry as well as actors to talk about doing a project together. Stand back from that statement and even I’m impressed. I sound like some big-wig producer. Like I’ve got so many contacts in the industry it was just a matter of me organizing a meeting. …You know what? I like that. So much so that it even feels comfortable on me. Yeah, I know people. Yeah, I’ve got mega connections and people just waiting to work with me again. I’m that good.

Actively working to combat my guilt over leaving the other group. Practicing saying ‘no’. Doing it a lot, and I haven’t even announced my decision to them. As I keep telling myself, nothing’s happening right now with them. It’s not like staying with them is a big demand on my time; it isn’t. But I can feel already that my group will take me seriously and really begin to meet and produce works before the summer even begins. I’m supposed to give a talk to a women’s group in August about the other group. Last year when I set that up, I was still enthused. We were still working on my trilogy. Now… Now I’m ready to hand that task off to L and tell her to do it. I don’t have much good to say about them.

Been re-thinking how the other group treats me. Seeing/hearing it through S’s eyes and ears. I’ve been with them long enough to know this is the way they communicate. But she’s right to point out it’s negative communication. Maybe it’s meant in a teasing manner, but those teases are built on putting people down rather than gentle pokes at ourselves. That’s the director and his manner of communication. I see it in his interaction with L, his girlfriend. I hear it from him at every turn. And yeah, it’s something I don’t like. I’ve put up with it because it seems like everyone does and it’s an accepted ‘norm’. Most of the time all that slides off my back, but there have been moments when I’ve wondered exactly how targeted and meaningful those pokes are supposed to be. Maybe he’s just hit a few trigger words of mine in his teasing. Maybe not. Up ’til now, I’ve given him the benefit of the doubt. S doesn’t think he deserves that, and I’m listening to her.

Want to just take another big pain pill today and loll around. Fuck off and do a lot of nothing. Maybe I will.

And here’s something I forgot to mention the other day. While S and I were talking, she mentioned a conversation she had with my bro at her b-day party in December. She said he said he admires me so much for being as active and up as I am after I’ve been thru so many problems and pain. They both agreed I’m very strong. Really? When my bro communicates with me it’s usually in a half-scolding tone: Rest! You’re always moving around; take a break! That’s quite different than: You’re really strong for all you do; now you deserve a rest. But… that bit of conversation reminded me I’m the one who walked and drove with an ankle the emergency doctor was sure was broken. I’m the one who wore two holes in her back by her tailbone because she did so many damned sit-ups. I’m the one who was up and trying to still walk when the docs told me my inflammation was so high I should be in hospital. I’ve always considered that’s just my stubbornness. That’s me, taking my normal negative view of anything said about me. They couldn’t possible mean to compliment me; I’m a horrible person. 

But, I’ll try that one on today.

Hi, I’m Beeps. And I’m incredibly strong.

I’m up to 160

Hope. Suddenly, I got it. It’s a small flicker, just a spark, really. I’m bent over, protecting it, nurturing it, trying to get it to spread. Pinning all my hopes on this tiny thing. C’mon! Gimme a win!

Saw Dr T yesterday. Warm weather and my up and down mood helped me to decide to wear my bright yellow shirt. It’s a stand out in my closet; most of my clothes are dark earth tones. I wore it to honor Spring, who finally decided to come to Rotterdam and stay a while. I wore it remind me to smile, and to tell Dr T I’ve been having problems. Ach, Dr T! It’s hard not to like a shrink who’s into the Reanimator series or to whom I can discuss Clive Barker’s more subtle works. Seems we always get off into discussions about horror; he’s a real fan. I went from reticent to full blast enthusiasm in 30 minutes. He told me I’m doing great, and using my work-outs to slow myself down is a perfectly acceptable thing to do. I owned up to the down days and the obsessing. He spoke more about medication; I think he’s thinking I may need an increase. Okay by me. We’re on the same page: as little medication as possible. And, hey! It was great to sit there and get positive feedback on how I’m handling the obstacles in my life.

Heard from one actor I met at the other group’s open meeting. He wanted to see a few samples of my stuff. Sent some off to him. I get it; he needs to know if I’m a real writer. Someone he wants to work with. I feel confident he’ll find my work more than up to par. More importantly, I heard from the director I worked with in Den Haag. He’s into it and asking me questions. YES!!!! Really wanted his help with this.

There’s that bit of hope…

Sunny, warm weather today. I need to get to the gym and move gently, then start my cleaning. Not looking forward to the work and trying to keep the end product in mind.

Gods! I need a shower, too.

Had to send reminder to the other group’s director to message an interested guy about the play. You’d think he’d jump on that, being short of men in the cast. But, no-o-o-o! Dragging his feet as he always does. He’s gonna lose this guy, too. I know it. It’s his pattern. Meanwhile, the poor guy is messaging me asking me what’s up. Ain’t fair to me, that ain’t!

But there ya go: one hand, the other group, doing a lot of nothing; the other hand, progress on every front.

…lol. When I say I move to the beat of a different drummer, I’m not kidding. The other group would move to beat around 80-100 bpm.

Me? I’m up to 160.

That gives me hope

Dr. T told me I’m in the same place as last time: struggling to deal with group situations and difficult people. Really? Well, it’s a tough nut to crack. Sadly, he doesn’t have a pill to give me for my frustration. I heard what I heard as a child; this is the way it is, learn to deal with it. Seems to me there’s something wrong in that. I mean, if this bugs everyone – and that’s what I’m being told – then why perpetuate it? Told Dr T the only reason I can think of is that everyone is in denial about their issues. He nodded in agreement.

Meh. I really think mental health care should be mandatory for everyone. It’s the only way society is gonna move forward.

He’s still happy with my meds level and diagnosis. I’m beyond that. Had no problem accepting the diagnosis; it’s what I thought for a long time. Spent most of the appointment simply unloading my anger and frustration at the world. Dr T listened without rebuke. Exactly what I needed. Just hear me and nod and say: Yes, you’re right; you’re getting a lot of negativity right now. Thanked him for that. I had to just get it all out (and feel supported in my anger) before I could let it go.

Began to feel blue last night. That light level depression. …Okay, more than a light level. I had a difficult time smiling last night. I’m not surprised by this. My anger is very active. As active as any manic mode I’ve ever been in. So when I let it go, it leaves a hole. I successfully let it go; that’s a good thing. Can’t say I’m happy about it because I’m not, but I can acknowledge the progress.

Managed to freak my bro out a bit the other day. Our fish guys out front have been off on holiday for a few months, and I’ve been jonesing for some good fish. I mentioned that the other morning with a sigh: I wish the fish guys were out front today! My bro left to run errands and came back wide eyed. What are you on these days? he asked me when he returned. It just so happened that THAT was the day they returned. Coincidence? Maybe. Getting a lot of ‘coincidences’ lately.

Sent out a request in the morning about the hall, asking for an option on it for two nights in November. Had a reply acknowledging the option before 5pm. This is the funny bit: I’d organized all my notes and sent out a message to the board recapping our decisions. When I said I’d heard back from the hall, M sent out a message: That’s another good thing about this hall; they communicate quickly and professionally. My eyebrows raised for two reasons. One, the group doesn’t communicate professionally or quickly. Two, I do, yet my work was left unacknowledged.

There’s a source of some depression. I’m barely on the board yet already my work is being overlooked.

Personal boundaries. Told Dr T I’d be working on those. Make some hard decisions and stick to them. My first decision is to take down time. Today’s International Women’s Day, so it’s a wonderful day for me to begin. No theatre work today, no Facebook work today. Me, me, me. I want to get to the gym and move, then come back here and open up my stuff. First thing I have to finish is the audio scripts for the trilogy. Get them off that system so I can upload another script.

And…talking with Dr T gave me the courage to talk with my bro. I was still irritated by his comment to me and finally owned up to it. He came back with his irritation towards me. He got pretty wound up about it, tho he did calm down when I pointed that out to him. Nonetheless, I felt a bit battered. My goal with him was to communicate. To get beyond that passive-aggressive shit. He’s angry because he feels all my energy goes to things other than his company. I’m angry because we have a long history of him not listening to my advice, making me feel unheard and unwanted. We hit a snag, both of us angry. I finally found the right words to say: I don’t know how to help you. I asked him for specific tasks he could give me, and together we came up with a couple of ideas. I assured him I’d support him and help him market his work both on King’s Day and beyond. We patched things up and I felt much better for it.

…I guess learning to talk with my brother is the first step. He’s my safe person, the one I trust more than anyone else in the world. If I can’t approach a problem with him, I sure as hell can’t do it with anyone else. And honestly, I managed to talk to him with no anger. He got wound up; I didn’t. I was just sad and hurt and tired. The talk wasn’t easy and it sure as hell wasn’t comfortable for me. But, and…I managed to not get triggered. I was so focused on getting past the problem I didn’t focus on the problem.

Ding! Ding! Ding! Put THAT one down in stone!! There’s my key: focus on getting past the problem, not on the problem. That will get me there. That will un-trigger me.

That… That gives me hope.

Tit for tat

Another life line: a bright rope of hope sent to me from L. She’s more than busy right now, resurrecting her last play for a few additional performances before Christmas. But she managed to fill in the interview Qs and send them to me, each answer as perfect as anyone could ever want them. I’ve now 3 actors and myself for the newsletter, enough to ‘pass’. For a while there I thought the newsletter would go out like this: interview with me as actor, BIG interview with me as writer, a bit of other stuff, small answers from the cast. Ugh. Now I can balance it out more.

Thank you, Universe. Last night the rain was lashing at the window. Really lashing; I just sat there listening to it for a minute, thinking about my umbrella that I had to throw away en route because it blew inside out and broke to pieces. I said: It would be great if this blew itself out overnight. Today, unscheduled by meteorology, is a sunny and bright day. So thanks! I didn’t really want to get wet.

Managed to get a shower in yesterday. Didn’t color my hair; we’ve another hot water hog down the line. It’s not as bad as it was, but I do have to check and make sure we’ve got warm water before I begin something like that. Using cold water to get hair dye out… Oh, I’ve done it. Like most things, when you get old enough you get to experience them sometime in life. It isn’t pleasant. Cold showers even less so.

Class today. Dutch is pretty much the furthest thing from my mind right now, but I’ll give it a go. Don’t want to miss 2 classes in a row.

Will put in time on the newsletter this week. Finish up my test final recordings. Work to learn my lines.

Notes: my left thumb still hurts like Hell. Problems picking things up and holding them. Sleep is odd. Somehow I manage to curl up and sweat my shirts thru. Then sometime later I wake up in a cold, wet shirt, freezing my proverbial ass off. Had another ice pick in my head last night as I was watching tv. Started at the right temple suddenly, just like it always does. The pain kept up for about an hour. I managed to eat more food yesterday; been slipping back into a small bowl of soup for the day and nothing else. Ate 3 times yesterday. Taking lots of paracetamol. Haven’t yet pulled out the oxycodone. But I’ve contemplated it.

Hoorah; my shrink appointment is this week. I can talk about it all. Headaches included.

Fix me. Fix me, fix me, fix me! I’m so tired of reacting this way. Even when I think I’ve got it under control, those damned headaches come at me. I do my best to get thru them, but… It’s not like I’m capable of much. All I can really do is hold my head and massage that point at my temple, hoping a bit of pressure on it might eventually ease it off. I’ve never vomited from these headaches. But light and sound hurt me, and I can’t do much. Probably time to get them documented as real migraines. Or cluster headaches. Whichever. Maybe I’ll even get a drug to help when they come on. Usually the best thing I can do is go to sleep and hope it solves itself.

…Ach. I’d hoped, really hoped, that a few meds might be just what I needed. That all I really lacked was a small edge on my emotions. I’m finding that’s not the case. Dr T is finding that’s not the case. A comment during our last appointment: Well, you obviously have issues… Sure I do! I’m bipolar I, depressive baseline, and 53. You can’t get there without gathering a few issues along the way. *sigh* Thought I’d been pretty honest with myself, facing my fears, but my continued physical problems point to something else. I’m just stuffing things. Either that, or I’m developing brain cancer or something. Can’t count out that possibility, can we? Happy thoughts, happy thoughts…

That pain at my temple… It’s still there. Very low key. But still there. Better close the drapes. Make sure I wear my sunglasses when I’m out there. Close the blinds in the classroom, even; it’s often too bright in there for my eyes. Pretty obvious I’m on that edge; the pain has been coming at me for days now.

Hm. Maybe I should break out the big pain pills…

Was reminded this morning of a meeting on Thursday evening in Den Haag that I’d like to attend. It’s a feminist meeting, an open discussion of the issues we’re facing today. My bro’s band practice is moved from Wednesday to Thursday, so he’s not home and I’m free to do whatever. Thinking it may be a good thing to do. Hook up with like minded people. T’s encouraging me to go. It’s even at a venue close to the train station and really easy to find. I’ve written it into my agenda.

Finding the more I concentrate on me, the less I think about everything else. Good medicine. So my thoughts are all about me: my reading, how I feel, should I do my cuticles again, etc. Nothing heavy in there. I’m purposefully emptying my head of all that crap attached to baggage. Let other people worry about other things; that’s not my job.

From here I’ll brush my teeth and hair. Get dressed. Gather up my books for class. Chill.

I silenced my phone last night, and I think I’ll keep it that way.

Tit for tat.

A Heart Full of Hope

My alarm went off at 2. I was ready for it; no whinging as I sat up in the cold room and looked for a pair of socks to keep my feet warm. Came out, did as I said: a cup of hot cordial for my throat, lights on, everything set. Ended up only taking an hour and a half. Slurred my words, pulled sentences in a new manner. It’ll be a unique delivery, that’s for sure. Whether or not the director likes it will be another matter.

Today I need to listen to all the recordings, see if I can clean them up a bit, and finish them off so I can get them to a file sharing site. Plus there’s cleaning, and reading, and relaxing to do.

Going to change one of the role names. I’ve got a Ted Billingsworth in Act 3 that’ll change to Ted Anderson – simply so my John Smith can echo the Matrix and say ‘Mr. Anderson’. See if anybody catches that.

Per usual, I’ve got 10 or so messages hanging out there. Queries and questions that remain unanswered. The director mentioned that most theatre companies in NL operate on a relaxed basis – meaning they’re not totally on the ball. Yeah. I guess so. But they’re also getting newsletters out and hyping stuff; they could get off their high horses and answer me. Especially *ahem* our old PR person. She managed to share some photos and stories she liked, but she’s not answered me nor participated in any way with the theatre group’s page. I have a feeling she’s just gonna slide away and never answer anything I ask.

Found my notes on side vids and ideas for visuals. Most are doable. We’ll need actors and time. But I can make the shots. I can edit it together. I can get it. Sent a message off to the director about it, along with all my notes. Probably another page he’ll kind of ignore. He’s had a lot from me like that. Pages of notes, messages, thoughts, changes. Other than the first group, he’s not shared my motivational analyses for any of the roles. Disappointed with that; Act 3 needed it the most. But, okay. His call. He knows what I want to go for. The vids, if I do them, will be totes under my control. I be the film director, and I got the history in work to prove it. Need to storyboard out some of the bigger stuff. Make sure I’m considering all the shots I want to incorporate.

Happy to say the only pain I felt from all the dental work was a little bit of soreness where he shot me up with novocaine. Other than that, I was pain free. Numb free by dinner so I could eat a good meal without fear of biting the inside of my mouth. I’m very pleased.

May spend a few hours just reading today. I’ve only got three weeks to read over 400 pages in this new book, so I’ve got to shoot for an average of 20 pages a day. Natch things got screwed up last night, so I’m already off and behind in what I need to do. Well, if my bro heads off to the comic shop I’ll have the day to chill in my chair. Perfect day to fall asleep reading my book.

I know I’m still moving too fast. Way too fast. For my bro, for the director, for the entire flipping world. But, as usual, the longer I spend pulling apart all that needs to be done, the better I’ll be at delegation. It won’t be ‘help me with videos’, it’ll be ‘you need to do lighting, you need to do FX, you need to corral the actors’. Throw me into something without thinking and I will do it all myself because the knowledge of what I need to do comes at me from all angles. Let that knowledge come first, and I can work out what (sorry; being honest here) idiots can be trained to do.

Excited to hear that the director and Board want to approach the police to use a good fake gun. You have to log that with the police so they know you’re in a play. Eeeeee! They think it’s good enough to invest that kind of time. I mean…they have to go to the police, explain themselves, sign a bunch of papers. It’s a thing. 😀 And my words are worthy of that time and effort.

This may be the best time of my life. Right now, right here. Having the freedom to explore all these side areas, and the energy to actually DO them!! Having people helping me, supporting me, actually taking tasks off my back -! This is all new to me, and I’m loving it. I want to blitz this city with video and flyers and information. I want to get people excited – as excited as I am.

Been dreaming of holding that camera in my hands again. Getting all those weird angles and shots I always go for. I got my experience on old fashioned cameras, those ancient things that actually held film. Won some awards for my pictures, too. So I know how to frame and shoot for maximum impact. Now I’ll finally have a decent vid camera in my hands and (hopefully) the quick ability to edit my stuff. I’m very excited to begin that process again.

I’m very excited about everything. For two years I watched this group. Analyzing their strengths and weaknesses. To be given control over their weakest area, the one place I know I can do a great job AND they really need me, that’s a heaven sent dream. It’s like being handed a house, all for your own. All you have to do is paint it, mow the lawn, and fix up a few squeaky hinges.

Off I go, with a heart full of hope.

It’s a go

The last role is cast. Barring disaster, the production will happen.

Showed up around quarter past 6. The director was in the cafe, as usual. Found him deep in conversation with someone. We went out for cigarettes and a chat, all three of us. Sadly, I can’t tell you the other guy’s name. And I do mean sadly: he was one of those few that gave me that ding! feeling. Immediate connection. I talked up the play, he talked about joining the theater group. He’s Russian, very cool, and someone with whom I could indulge in a bit of flirting from time to time. Hoping he actually will come to the play and get involved.

Saw two actors last night, both female. One was (in the director’s words) a weirdo who contacted him on FB. She’s just in from Italy, and her messages told us she didn’t speak English fluently. But she had long experience in Italian theatre, so he wanted to meet with her. The other actor was a friend of someone already in the cast. She’s from Dublin, and we immediately hit it off in that easy manner that makes me think we could be real friends outside of the group.

The director chose two scenes, and asked me to stand in as the extra characters. I snickered to myself. While these are scenes we’ve used before in auditions, he hadn’t seen my interpretation of them yet and I got this feeling that THAT’s what he was really after. And it was fun to be grumpy Ted, grunting out his replies. It was fun to be fearful Alex, shamefully admitting to self mutilation.

Most fun of all, tho, was the glowing interest showed by the actors. There will come a time – soon – when I’ll step down as the writer and be the actor. I will not correct other actors to my vision or my interpretation; I’ll let them do it their way. But during auditions, I am still the writer. I am still the genius with the inspiration, the master of words, the holiest of holy. And I get a bit of that, especially last night. The actor from Dublin is also a writer, and we chatted away, she giving me gushing admiration for the script, my book, etc. The questions like: How did you come up with this? The slightly fearful and hesitant look everyone gives me when I tell them this is based in fact. Heady, heady stuff. Aaaaaah! 😉

Down to earth. I must admit to some trepidation. We’re set to premiere in February or March, depending on venue availability. Those are the months I’ve typically had massive health problems. So I’m already looking ahead. Reviewing my behavior in the past to figure out how better to protect myself. I will NOT be the reason this has to be pulled at the last minute. My priority is clear: the play is number one. I will forgo my language lessons, my exercise, any socializing, anything that endangers that priority.

I’m old enough to have experienced those rare moments in life when everything just comes together. You’ve got to be ready to seize that. Go for it. Those are the doors to step thru, to get you to another level. I recognize that now. This is one of those moments, or can be if I can juggle things just so. That’s the trick. You’ve got to juggle all the elements, keep things exactly where they should be. And the longer the set-up, the harder it is. This is a nine month set-up. A full pregnancy. And you betcha; this is my baby in every sense of the word.

So, like any expectant mother, I’m gonna be extra, extra careful. The baby takes priority, and becomes my reason for saying no to some things and yes to others. I am excited and a bit frightened. I have dreams for my baby, dreams that it lives and grows beyond me and the small start I help to give it. I’m worried, too, about what could happen to it. But I want it – I need it – to go out there. Pit itself against the critics and nay-sayers, and find out how strong it is. Support it, no matter what.

Was going to say I’d go out for a walk and do this or that today, but the truth is these last two later nights have really thrown me. I’m tired, and could use a day down in front of the tv, napping. So I’ll take it. Errands be damned. Homework be damned. Exercise and fresh air be damned. This is expectant mother stuff. I’m napping.

Taking care of myself starts today.

It’s a go.

Trust your core

What’s your core like?

There was a time when I’d go to the gym and avoid all the hard stuff. You’d find me on those machines that isolate one muscle in your legs or arms, pumping away. But you’d never find me on the floor, holding both legs up, breathing in. Good golly! Voluntarily lift both legs up off the floor? Do you know how difficult that is?

But things have changed. I’ve changed. I no longer dance around the outside of life, trying one thing or another. I’m in the core. And I’ve found, to my surprise, my core is very strong indeed.

Yes, I’m back at the gym and feeling damned good about myself. I’m also making a metaphor.

A word out to anyone reading right now: if you’ve been struggling – and it doesn’t matter with what – and you’re still trying, good on you. Your core is strong. Stronger than you probably give yourself credit for. Those of us with issues tend to focus on our negatives; I struggle so much or It just seems twice as hard for me as everyone else. True. And you’re still trying, aren’t you? You’re still seeking solutions. Give yourself a pat on the back, no matter what your ‘trying’ looks like. Because most of those people out there who make you feel bad about yourself…they’re the ones who are weak. Their core is so flawed they have to try and steal some of your strength to even begin feeling okay about themselves.

…Been thinking on a friend I lost to suicide. She keeps popping up in my brain lately. Don’t know why. I’m not one of those people who mark the date of death down on a calendar and mourn every year – tho I can always tell you the season a person died in. I can tell you what the weather was like. Isn’t that odd? I can tell you my father died during the heat of an American Indian summer. I can tell you my mother died in the still crisp air of a Wisconsin spring. I can tell you I heard the news about my friend during the heat of summer. But dates, months, years…those I’d have to search out.

Generally, tho, if I can’t get someone or something off my mind, it’s important in some manner. Since I don’t know what this particular someone is doing in my brain, all I can do is put my first thought out there: if you’re thinking about it, please don’t do it. You don’t go thru your suicide; everyone else does. And you will be missed by people and in situations you could never even imagine. That’s the problem, too: you can’t see it right now. These words are for you. I’m telling you there are people in the world that care about you. People who’s lives will be greatly affected by your death. You imagine it isn’t so; you think your death will cause no fuss or muss in anyone’s life. You’re wrong. It will be something that never leaves the people who love you. Never, ever.

And your core is much stronger than you think.

…I have a crazy theory. One not based on scientific observation. One that is purely gut instinct. I think there are two types of people in the world, broadly speaking. One is prey, the other hunter. And I think those of us with what’s termed mental illnesses are the natural hunters. Thousands of years ago, we’d have been the warriors. The protectors. Our nervous energies and multi-faceted (and sometimes paranoid) thinking would have been spent every day by chasing animals, setting traps, fighting. We have very little outlet for these natural tendencies in the modern world. And the way I see it, it’s the most natural thing in the world to turn these tendencies inward where they fester. We end up hunting ourselves, worrying over every thought, every desire. We are told our natural fight instinct is wrong in today’s world. We must learn to be passive and accepting. Here, take this pill. And do NOT misunderstand my words: I am all for medication. I credit it with an awful lot lately. Plus, let’s face it: some aggressive tendencies need to be curbed. But medication doesn’t do it all – not unless you’re in a straight jacket and they’re pumping you full of shit that’ll whack an elephant out. So, I’m going to try a new way of thinking. I’m going to hunt life.

What, exactly, does that mean? I don’t know. I’m making it up as I go. I do know it involves seizing more opportunities, doing more. I know it involves making conscious choices to be happy. Turning my brain away from negatives and emphasizing the positives. That’s particularly difficult for me because no one ever taught it to me. But like the Dutch language, it’s something I need to learn. Not because it’s mandatory. Not because anyone is on my ass about it. But because I want to.

It is a choice I’m making based on my core. Based on a deep strength I’m finding within myself. This is the part of me that stopped me all those other times I contemplated suicide. This is the part of me that went to the doctor and admitted she needed help. This is the part of me that loves the mornings, that talks to birds and trees, that wakes up with hope in her heart.

To all the fellow hunters out there: I know the need to test yourself. To find out for yourself. I also know the traps hidden within that search; we are all too good at our natural hunting instincts to not lay traps for ourselves. You are strong. Hunt life, not death! Go after it with all you’ve got. After all, what have you got to lose? If you’re already contemplating ending it all, you’re on that brink. You’re not afraid to gamble.

Trust your core.

Beginnings

Beginnings are tough. The first word on a page. The first day of a new job. Seems just about everything in life turns into a metaphoric pair of shoes: you gotta wear ’em in a bit and get used to them. And until you do, you’re a bit uncomfortable. A little too aware of where they are rubbing at your heel or pinching your toes. Hopefully the shoes give a bit with time, and the heel rubbing and toe pinching stops. Meanwhile, you hang in there with that new pair because you just bought them, or they look good, or you so want them to work for you.

My metaphoric new shoes were my return to the gym. I found it tough just walking thru the door because it’s been too long. Kept to the exercise bike and treadmill. Too long = I’m weak as shit, so no big push until I can do the bike and the treadmill without sweating. No weights, either, until I know my wrist won’t start hurting again (this is the third day without pain, and I’m just enjoying it). Felt good to stretch out and use my muscles. But now I’m telling myself how I need to go and do it again and… Ugh. Again? And again and again and again? Is there no end?

…You were expecting an end?

That’s the topper, isn’t it? We live in a false world full of ends. Stories end, films end, days end, years end… But that’s not true. The story continues, the film could go on, and we live in an unending time continuum. It would be better just to say ‘here’s where the story stops’ or ‘here’s where this day becomes the next’. ‘End’ is a misnomer.

We have come to expect ends. An end to life, an end to pain… We tend to call the culmination of our dreams ‘the end’, although it’s really just another beginning. Dieters dream of their restricted meals ending, schoolchildren long for the end of the school year. Focusing on ends pushes our vision into the past: the end of an era, the end of ‘the good old days’, etc. We want to wrap things up in tight bundles: here it is; finite and complete. Take a picture, and bemoan about your memories for the rest of time.

This behavior blinds us to the continuity surrounding us. To the flow. To seeing how one thing leads to another, then another.

Too many people seem to be asking ‘how did we get here?’ when the answer seems obvious to me. Stop viewing time as frozen bits of truth. The past does not contain our truth. It only contains the seed of what we are now, and if you’re blind to that you’ll never recognize it even if it bites you on the nose.

Look to the past to discover who you are. Look to the future to find who you can be.

I have looked to my past. Kept my eyes inwards, downwards, searching, asking. I can’t bemoan any of that right now. It’s served me well in many instances, and made me a better person.

But now I look up. Literally. Used to walk down the street looking down, watching where I put my foot so I didn’t trip or turn an ankle. Now I look at the sky and trees. It’s amazing what I see when I stop looking at the ground. I forgot the world held so much color and variety.

Often I’ve been called a ‘starter’ rather than a ‘finisher’. I can finish projects – make no mistake about that. But I’ve started more than I’ve finished. In the past, that’s been used against me. Shamed me. This morning I can only see my behavior as evidence of my underlying optimism. I kept starting. Kept trying to reset. Toss away the shame of ‘not finishing’ and see what you were really doing: continual movement, continual attempts to change things in positive manners. Me grasping for me. Oh, little girl! You did so well! You just never gave up, no matter what. You hated yourself, you hated life, you didn’t understand so much, but you just kept at it. … Now, that’s a solid feeling. One that doesn’t flutter in briefly and leave me the next moment. It is deep and heavy, yet light…

I have allowed so much shame to cover me in the hopes that it would bring me love. I let myself be used physically, like a bag of garbage. I let myself be lied about, let the worst be thought about me, without one word of defense. I let others’ judgements rule me: how I should act, what I should want, how I should look or be.

…I suppose in my world, being yelled at for this or that was the only attention I really received. Being good never got it. I was never good enough to be praised for being good, only told I could never be the best, the prettiest, the most talented because there would always be someone better than me. Getting yelled at, though… Now, that I excelled at. I was the worst ever. The most base slut on the planet, the worst drug addict, the biggest liar, the most horrible thief, the worst person you could ever know.

It seems I could be the best at something, then.

…Yikes. That’s a hard one to swallow. Years of bad behavior in a textbook case of an unloved and unwanted child seeking attention.

That’s my seed from the past. It grew me into who I am today. But who I am today, when I step outside the door, is totally up to me. I can go out there loaded for bear, ready to take issue with everyone and everything.

Or I can take my seed and go out with gentle patience and understanding. Knowing my seed can’t grow under certain conditions. It’s part of what it is.

My new beginning.