Kaleidoscope

It's been a long time since I last wrote--a year and 10 months and a couple weeks give or take. I never really intended to stop writing but so many things happened at once and I was too scared or worried or raw or nervous to sit down to a keyboard.

It started with my show ending--6 years of 'Lockup' ended in a random phone call after the holiday break. I knew that something was up--the episode order had shrunk but we were going into an election and that was to be expected. But we were filming in a new location and I was FINALLY getting the chance to step up and become more of a story team leader. And we had a great location and a great team and it felt like Jim finally saw me as being good at  my job.

I was so excited and then so very crushed.

And rather than think about what was happening, I went into crisis control. How do I get the most days out of the show, how do I get to be the last one standing and how do I make everyone notice me. I didn't think about how upset I was or what a stumbling block it felt like. I did what I have always done since a child--be good, be perfect and don't let them see you break.

And it worked for the most part. Until it didn't.

I was upset once the show was done and there was no real attempt to move any of the story people to other shows at the company. All the AEs and editors were giving other shows, they moved around some of the support staff but the rest of us ended up with food from Islands and a slap on the back. I don't think I realized how personal I took it until I had some distance...

But I didn't write about it because I couldn't be honest without hurting my career and I couldn't make it  like a roman à clef which could be worse. So I just didn't write at all.

But why not write about something else? Because I was too scared.

During the same time the show was ending, I started having breathing issues. At first I thought it might be panic attacks or stress but my lungs didn't feel right. Then I thought it was my asthma flaring up due to seasonal changes until I blacked out lifting weights on the floor at the apartment.

This was new.

But every doctor I saw thought it was asthma or my weight gain (which happened after I stopped working to due to my blackout) instead of listening to me. It took three trips to urgent care before they took my blood oxygen properly--I had a level of 79 which is VERY BAD. But even after the ER visit they still were not sure--I had inhalers and pills and x-rays and tests. I couldn't walk about half staircases without sounding winded and I spent my time thinking about lung cancer or COPD...

I was so scared and tired I couldn't write.

Eventually my doctor guessed it was possibly untreated bronchitis and after 9 months they put me on aggressive steroids. It took awhile (and I am still not fully recovered) but they think it was that with some new allergies mixed in. I still have times when I can't breathe well and I have to sit or take a moment but I try to force myself forward.

I just wasn't ready for all of this change.

So I had to hide away from the world. Lick my wounds and take some space to resettle in my head and my heart. To heal and get perspective about what was happening around me, to me, for me. And it scared me away from this because I didn't know how to share. I forgot about how so much of this is about honesty and ownership. Of my words and my life.

Sorry if this seems to ramble but I am in the process of still adapting to change. Hopefully this will help--it always has in the past.