Right

Over Christmas I fell into a bit of a depression (ha -- "a bit") and gained a lot of weight back.  I wasn't sleeping, I was stressed out, and I was having some very dark thoughts.  I didn't know how to get out of the life I'm living (because it really isn't what I want).

When I got back from Christmas Break I discovered I could keep the insanity at bay by coming home and laying on the bed and coloring while listening to Disney music for an hour before I went on with the rest of my life.  I self-medicated by watching waaaaay too much telly and eating things I should *not* be eating (meaning sugary stuff.  I'm allergic to white sugar).

I even got to the point where all I wanted was a drink and a cigarette, which is bad.  I have asthma and therefore have never smoked, but I've been around smokers long enough now that when I'm stressed I instantly want a cigarette in my hand.  And I just want a nice hard cider or a rum and coke to take the edge off.

Not good.

I don't think you should have to go through life hanging onto the unhelpful idea of something to 'take the edge off' every day.  If that's the life you're living, something's gotta change.

So there I was -- stressed, depressed, trying desperately to pretend that everything was ok and that I wasn't going to do something drastic like shave my head or run stark naked through campus just to get fired and start over somewhere else.  (Seriously...you have no idea how strong these ideas were at one point)

It's a combination of things, really, that make me feel this way, but the biggest thing is that I'm not doing what I want to do.  I want to act, to tell stories.  I can write my way into oblivion but acting out stories is the THING I want to dedicate my life to.  The writing is a side job.  But not being able to do either consistently while I sit here and stew in my own juices was getting destructive.

And then the week of auditions appeared.

The weekend before, I fixed all my breakfasts and lunches ahead of time.  I planned out all our dinners.  I did laundry and put up outfits for the week.  And I started washing my face and exercising again.

It wasn't even conscious.  It was just...well, now I have something to look forward to.  Something to live for.

Quite melodramatic, but a telling picture of what matters to me.  Even though I won't get paid for this directing job, it doesn't matter.  I'm part of a story.  I'm treating it as a professional opportunity.  After all, I started out working crew (for Eve Redeemed), then tried out and got parts in two plays.  Directing is the next step, I guess.

I'm already ecstatic at the thought of rehearsals (even the early morning one), costumes, working one-on-one with actors as they create a character, the funny things that happen on set, set design, and performance weekend...the thrill of it is tangible.

I'm still stressed out (I still have to work my part-time job, after all) and I really need to learn to drive so I can get off-campus when I feel the need, but being able to put my creative energies into something lets the pressure cooker in my mind let a little steam off.

I can't really describe the thing that tilted back into place when this process of production started, only that something internally righted itself.

Which is a sign to me that this, being part of a story, is the thing I need to be doing.