Refocusing

(Me and my roommate at the opening of her show, Inventing Van Gogh. It was Day #2 of the meds. 01/10/09)

I talked to CCM a couple of days ago. Things no longer feel strange between us. I'm grateful for that. It even seemed fine when I introduced him to The Engineer last week (man, it's been a long time since I blogged about what's going on with males in my life, hasn't it?). We're only fringe friends, but it's enough.

CCM has needed glasses for a long time. He tried them once, years ago, but was bothered by how sharp everything looked. He stopped wearing them because he thought the world was prettier when it was blurry. Last week, he finally got a new pair of glasses (probably because he REALLY needed them to drive in the dark... being a passenger in his car was a little scary). He's getting headaches because the muscles in his eyes haven't adjusted yet. And he as a person hasn't adjusted either. He's still getting used to the idea of everything being in focus. It's going to take him some time before his prescription is part of what he thinks of as "normal."

I, too, am adjusting to a prescription that I had been doing alright without. I, too, am adapting to a sharper focus. And I, too, am having a hard time feeling normal. But for me, there are no new lenses in front of my eyes; the changes are happening in my brain. I know it's good for me. I know it's better than where I was without this prescription. But that doesn't make the switch easy.

The hardest part about this particular transition into medication is feeling alone.

I told both of my roommates the day I went on the meds. They're incredibly supportive and great to talk to, but we have different schedules, so I never know when or if I'm going to see them to talk things out. I notified my Voice professor and Acting professor (and I'm sure they'll let my other professors know). But that's not exactly a huge support system.

Hiding it from my classmates is complicated. I truly believe that not telling them is the right decision (as I mentioned in Jagged Little Transition). But as a result, they all think I'm nuts.

We've been having a Ballroom Dance workshop instead of our normal Movement class for the first couple of weeks of classes, and it has been hard on me. We keep drilling the guys' parts of the dances by ourselves. Then when we're tossed into pairs, the girls are expected to figure out our own parts on the spot (everything is reversed or the order is different). And normally, that wouldn't be all that difficult for me. But right now? My brain has no idea how to process it. Especially because we keep changing direction. Practicing it one way and then doing it another results in me having no idea where I'm going.

You know, if you told me on a normal day, "You have to go clockwise now because four steps ago it was counter-clockwise", that would make sense. But right now? Sorry, but I have no idea what I did four steps ago. My memory is completely shot. If you told me on a normal day, "You step between his feet here," I might normally assume that in the next beat he steps between mine. But now? I take that to mean that I ALWAYS step between his feet, which results in knotted legs and bruised toes. I don't know if I'm going forward, backward, left, or right. And since the guys in my class aren't exactly pros, I can't blindly trust my partner's ability to lead.

When I didn't understand things, our instructor looked at me like I was an idiot. And when I became frustrated and was fighting back tears (I'm an emotional person in general, but it's been particularly tricky to keep under control this week), I saw my classmates judging it as, "There goes Angela, overreacting again."

I wanted to scream and cry and kick and stomp and go off into a tantrum like a 3-year-old. THIS ISN'T MY FAULT! I'M NOT CRAZY! I'M NOT STUPID! I'M NOT A BAD DANCER! AND I AM NOT PATHETIC FOR WANTING TO CRY RIGHT NOW!

But they don't know that I'm dealing with things that I'm not telling them about. And if I even alluded to that, they'd say, "Leave your emotions at home, Angela. Be a professional." And normally, they'd be right. But I cannot do that right now. Literally. Cannot. It's not a matter of will; it's a matter of physical ability.

I haven't really been eating, which I'm sure isn't helping my stress level. I had breakfast on Thursday, but that was all. I had breakfast on Friday, and then forced myself to eat a little at lunch because I knew it would be a long day. Saturday I skipped breakfast, so I decided I should eat a real meal at lunch. I looked at the food, but I just didn't want to eat it. I ended up eating it in three sittings over the course of about four hours. And then around 10pm I ate some Tostitos with Ranch Veggie Dip and called it dinner. Today I had a granola bar for breakfast and a 6-inch turkey sub for lunch, so I think things are improving.

My understudy rehearsals for The Imaginary Invalid have been this weekend, which is probably the worst time for them to happen. Brain power and memory are vital, and mine seem to be on vacation in the tropics. The Assistant Director is running rehearsals. She gave me a note on a step in the choreography that I normally get right, but did backwards for some reason (I blame Ballroom for getting me in the habit of reversing everything). When we re-ran the song, I did it wrong AGAIN, and was frustrated by my own inability to do such a simple thing. I was clearly upset, but then had the sense to take note of my own reaction and made a special attempt to not become exasperated for the rest of rehearsal.

I informed the Ballroom instructor and my Assistant Director about the meds after the fact. I wasn't planning to, but I needed them to know. Maybe that was the wrong thing to do. Maybe that's whiny or something. But I was upset. I needed them to know I wasn't crazy. And I wanted them to give me a little slack, as I'm not getting any from my peers (and for good reason).

I was feeling so alienated and upset yesterday that I actually called Moby to tell him about everything. I don't know him particularly well, but I just had this feeling that he was someone who would listen and wouldn't judge me. He was sweet and helpful, and did a decent job of calming me down. He told me that I have to cut MYSELF some slack. Yes, I'm going to be off for a few days. I need to acknowledge and accept that, and not freak out over it. I think he's right.

Let's see... Roommates. Voice Professor. Acting Professor. Assistant Director. Ballroom Instructor. Moby. We're up to seven people who know (eight, if that one 2nd-year is still reading this blog). The way things work around here, that means there's a good chance that every single person in my grad school world will know in about, oh, half an hour. Fan-freaking-tastic. Oh well. I stand by my decisions to tell the people I told, and I'm just going to hope that they're better secret-keepers than I give them credit for.

Today is Day #4. Things are getting better, but they're still not perfect. I did notice today when I was having a conversation with Two-Shots-Up just how much easier focusing is. I didn't have to continually remind myself that I was in a conversation. I didn't have to fight as hard to stop myself from zoning out, changing topics, or interrupting. And it was... nice. It reminded me why I'm doing this. There is a benefit. This is a good decision. I just need to give it time.


May you cut yourself a little slack.

~A~


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