Sick or Hungry? (part 1)

I don't remember when I stopped eating during 2002, the Year From Hell.  I remember my body and brain going into "fight or flight" mode at one point soon after it all started but I can't say exactly when or how long after the trigger event.  I may have gradually lost my appetite, or it may have happened suddenly.  In any case, there came a time where I didn't eat very much, if anything, at all.  I just didn't want to, or didn't remember to, or felt too sick to.  I've talked to people about it, and I'm always surprised when some of them say, "Oh, I'd love to have that problem!"  No, you wouldn't.  The problem with the "problem" is that I eventually could no longer tell if I was sick or hungry, because they felt exactly the same.  My stomach would cramp and I'd become nauseated, but because I couldn't tell the difference between illness and hunger, it turned into a vicious cycle:  if I ate, I ran the risk of vomiting.  If I didn't eat, I ran the risk of painful stomach cramps that sometimes doubled me over.  It felt as though someone had reached into my abdomen and was squeezing my stomach or that it was trying to burst through my skin. 

I remember one time in the summer of 2003 when I was visiting my friend Tony for a game night; my stomach hurt so badly that I had to leave his basement apartment to see if the fresh air would help me feel less ill.  My friends were concerned, and as I sat on the cement wall of Tony's stairs, one of them brought me a piece of bread and stayed with me until I ate it.  It was hard to chew and swallow because the nausea was so bad, but I did it and eventually felt better.  The thing is, until I DID feel better, I didn't know if I would.  I didn't know if that stupid piece of bread would make me throw up or not because my stomach felt exactly the same either way.. 

Later that summer, I visited my friend Matthew on Pioneer Day.  I was assisting with some training for work and we'd gotten done later than expected, so Matthew's Pioneer Day celebration was over by the time I got to his apartment.  We talked for a little while, but I was tired and didn't stay very long.  As I stood up to leave, I almost passed out and he had to hold me up until I was steady on my feet.  I don't pass out.  I've never fainted.  I blacked out once, when I was 10 and sprained my foot, and that was only for a few seconds.  I got very faint last year after giving blood and trying to help someone who fainted in the recovery area.  Pioneer Day 2003, though, I came very close to passing out.  Matthew was worried, but I reassured him I was fine and was able to drive home without anything else happening.

It was during this time I started getting bad tension headaches.  I'd become dizzy and get tunnel vision and nausea and barely be able to drive home.  The only thing that helped was sleeping for a couple of hours.  Now I know that my occasional headaches can largely be prevented by eating or drinking, but at the time it didn't occur to me.

When I began to recover, I sometimes had to remind myself to eat.  I had to remember that sometimes, quantity counted more than quality.  If, for instance, nothing but cookies was appetizing, I ate cookies.  Sometimes it was my "whitey white" sandwich of turkey, white bread, and mayonnaise that I ate at least once a day for two or three weeks straight.  Sometimes it was toast or celery or jelly beans or pancakes.  I learned to eat what I was hungry for WHEN I was hungry and not freak out about it, because at least I was eating.

I don't know if this is brave or stupid.

Ten years ago in June I began a journey through a major depressive episode.  This is not something I really talk about very much, partly because it was such a dark period of my life and partly because it's one of those things no one really talks about.  However, over the last few years, I've become an advocate for diminishing the stigma of mental illness, and over the last few weeks I've been thinking a lot about what I went through.  A part of me is still trying to make sense of it, I think.  Most of me is really happy that I'm here.

I'm usually reluctant to talk about that two or three years because it's awkward, uncomfortable, and sad, none of which I like being.  There were some really horrific things I dealt with.  There were times I don't want to remember.  There were also miracles.

I don't think of myself as some kind of hero for getting through all of that.  I am stronger for having done it, I know, but I'm not anything that special.  Maybe, though, talking about this can help someone else.  Maybe it will be good for me to confront some of it from my current perspective.  I don't know.  I do know, though, that I'm going to write about it...whether you like it or not.  Ha.

Bluh

Apparently I have that Cold From the Dark Side that's been making it's evil way around.  I can hear out of both ears for the first time in a week, and that's pretty awesome, but I'm SO TIRED.  I just don't have a lot of energy--I tried to walk my  normal speed at work last week (for the three days I was actually well enough to be there) and wore myself out walking down the hall and back.  I hit the Nap Wall every day around 1:30 and 5:30 PM.  My voice is probably a third lower than it normally is.  It's kind of like having the flu without the body aches and fever.  Fun!  I guess I just have to accept that I'm not going to be 100% for a while, and work with the 50-75% I have right now.

I think I'll go to bed at 8.

There's a reason we call it Hell Week

It's formally called Tech Week, but everyone calls it Hell Week.  Getting onto the actual stage, in costumes, with set pieces, and lighting, and mics, and sound, is an entirely different animal than rehearsing in a taped-off or demarcated space elsewhere.  As we do our dress rehearsals, things change, sometimes at the last minute, because they don't look right or don't work logistically.  For instance, we've discovered that women in beautiful bustle dresses look ridiculous pushing a carriage set piece around the stage, so those four weeks of practice now mean nothing to me except that I have to get the carriage piece onstage so the men in uniform can take over.  For another instance, we've discovered that it's hard for one of our beautiful leading ladies to make a brief entrance, run (literally) around the theater to make another entrance, and sing an emotional song without panting.

Because we're using a trap door and a lift for some of the scenes (Mary magically appears in the middle of a nightmare scene!), the people using the trap had to practice getting on and off it on Monday and Tuesday nights.  We had to reposition a few people to let the trap work properly and safely.  That took several minutes each night.  People have been repositioned because of lighting, which takes time.  People are dealing with wigs and hair pieces that sometimes don't quite match their natural hair, so that takes time to resolve.  Props get changed, we find out how fast the quick changes are (I'll be changing in the lobby in front of everyone, which is awesome!  No shame!), we find out that some crosses work and some don't.

It's an exhausting process.  I haven't been home before midnight since Sunday, and I don't envy those who are driving from longer distances.

However, as we do these things and tweak the show to be even better, you come to a moment where it all finally clicks and you have A Show instead of just a series of rehearsed scenes and transitions.  The story comes alive and almost makes you cry because it's a real story now.  Last night, I posted on Facebook, "Holy cow, we have a show", because we do.  And it's beautiful to hear and see.  I can't quite express how grateful and humbled I am to be involved.

Notes

Rehearsal went pretty well last night, but there were some glitches, most of which can be blamed on the boom-box we're using for the track.  Once we get up on the stage with the monitors and speakers there and can hear the track better, it won't be such a big deal.  As it is, we screwed up a few times.  Now we know and can watch for those things.

Part of the rehearsal process is getting notes from the costumers, producers, director, music director, and dialect coach (if there is one for the show).  "Notes" is not always a fun process, but you can always learn something--it's better to be told you've messed up and fix it before opening than to wonder and consistently mess up during the run.  We all want to make sure we do things right, and we almost always try to take notes with gratitude and good grace.

My character in this show needs a Scottish accent.  I have less than 10 lines, but I still want to make sure I'm doing what they want me to do, so I was pretty worried.  A friend kindly recorded a Scot neighbor of hers saying my lines so I could get a better idea of what I was doing, and a dialect coach was hired.  After our 45-minute session with him, I felt good about what I'd learned and highly relieved I wasn't required to use a Yorkshire dialect like three of my fellow cast members.  Scottish is hard enough to do, but Yorkshire is very tricky!

I've tried to practice the sounds (sometimes I'll read aloud to myself in the dialect) but I haven't had a lot of time to do it, so I was a little worried about rehearsal last night because I knew the dialect coach would be there.  After we were done, I anxiously approached him and he said, "I only have one note here for you."  He turned his notebook so I could see it, and showed me this:  :).  That was my only note!  He said he appreciated the subtlety of my accent and it was exactly what he was looking for.  It's good to know that my efforts have paid off and I don't sound like an idiot up there.  Most of the time.

Real site is down.

So my regular blog seems to be down for the count.  I don't know why, but I DO know that my work computer magically got a massive trojan virus on it and I had to change my passwords on EVERYTHING I'd accessed for the month before my system had to be wiped.  I think my dear HeidiAphrodite was a victim.  My brother's working on things and we should be up and running soon, but he's starting a new job and juggling cars (literally--you should see it) so I'm going to be posting here for a bit.

Unfortunately for you, it's 4:54, I'm wiped the heck out, I have to go home and do some laundry and eat and then go to rehearsal, so you won't be getting anything but an update and possibly a new theme. 

Enjoy ha ha.

So. Here we are.

I'm keeping this blog active because I can, but I don't know if I'll actually post much here. If you want to read the real Heidi Aphrodite, head over here.