The Music of the Afterlife....

As the dust clears, the fog machine packed away and the pyros set aside, I've had a chance to breathe again...well one day anyways!

It's hard to believe that Phantom is over - and yet I can hardly remember what life was like before it began! Considering rehearsals began at the beginning of June, it really has been a long run. Almost half a year in fact.

As I have previously blogged, Phantom has been both the hardest and most fulfilling show I've done to date. Fulfilling because it's been a lifelong dream to be in Phantom of the Opera, and hard because of the politics that went on behind the scenes. Having stepped back a little, I can now see that there are certain people who, for whatever reason, are just not that accepting of new folk. There's one girl in particular who, having just seen her facebook page I believe has made a snap judgement based upon the way I look which is rather sad, and others who for whatever reason either feel threatened by newcomers or who just have too much free time on their hands and prefer to spend it gossipping about others. The size of the egos in that cast in particular was always going to be a little full on - after all, it's Phantom. If there was ever a show to bring out the big guns, this was it!

Having said all that, one thing that was promised did indeed come to pass....I made some really good quality friends and that has been a joy.

I think the danger with finishing any show is becoming nostalgic and rosy-eyed about the experience, so in order to avoid that I thought I'd share a few things I WONT miss about Phantom. Here's my top 10:

1. fatigue...and having to rock up to work feeling hungover!
2. ingesting more than a few strands of synthetic hair from my hannibal wig every-single-night blech!
3. and while we're on the subject...the wigs - UGH thank god no more wigs!
4. stage make up and the disgusting things it has done to my face
5. those stairs - granted I didn't have the full "stair" experience thanks to my ankle, but trudging up and down those stairs was arduous at best!
6. costume changes
7. listening to a certain dressing room mate (who shall remain nameless) go on, and on, and on, and on about how insignificant, crappy and frankly time wasting being in the chorus is....*rolls eyes*
8. loads and loads of ankle pain
9. waking up in the morning to "Prima Donna" rolling round, and round and round and round in my head....
10. Sweat. Lots and lots and lots of sweat. Enough said.

So it's back to reality for me. I have tomorrow off in flex and I'm seriously considering spending some sanity money getting a massage and making a podiatrist appointment to get my feet done. Would be great to get a facial done too, my poor skin! It's only a matter of a month and a bit until Christmas, so I guess that's the next thing, but for now I'm just going to revel in the normality of daily life for a bit.

Thespian Theories...

I've been REALLY quiet on here over the last few weeks...silent in fact. Apologies! As those who know anything about me will know, Friday night is the opening of the Tamworth Musical Society's production of Phantom of the Opera.



When I began this journey about 5 months ago I was massively excited to be a part of an AMAZING opportunity to fulfill a lifelong dream. It's been one of the hardest, most painful, yet most satisfying things I've done with my music to date. I won't lie, the people in TMS are amazing, and talented, and sometimes REALLY difficult to deal with. I've been disheartened, and hurt, and offended, yet at this moment I'm on the cusp of it all being worth it.

Reflecting back on this experience got me thinking....why is it that we, as musical theatre actors, singers, stage management, producers, directors, musical directors, conductors, musicians, etc etc do this CRAZY thing that we do? What is it that drives us to pour ourselves out on to a stage that in the cold light of day is nothing but fake sets, smoke and lights??

The obvious answer is because we all have massive egos - and I'll be the first to admit that on one level that's true!!! We like the applause, we get a rush out of having people say how great we are. I think anyone whose honest will admit that they like being praised - we all do. I would also definitely say that as a kid and as a teen this was my drug of choice - the rush that came with being recognised for something that is unique, something that other people cannot do, something people WISH they could do - it was the only thing I had. I was an average student, I hated sport with a passion and I was about as uncoordinated as you can possibly get! I hung on to two weeks of the year when the Eisteddfod afforded me a decent degree of notoriety at school - I would bring in the certificates I'd gotten and feel special. I certainly didn't feel special at home that's for sure.

But I'm not at school anymore. There's no one I need to prove myself to. I'm in a job where I'm being recognised for the work that I do, for my organisation skills and for my efficiency. I am generally accepted in my workplace, and in my social circles, and if I never did another show no one would think any less of me. So the ego thing isn't entirely my motivation anymore.

So what is?

And for that matter, what is ANYONE'S motivation? The reality is that there are a LOT of people who don't get to take a bow at the end of the show - stage crew, lighting crew, pyro technicians, runners, costume people, the orchestra - all these people who remain just names in a programme. Even for me, in six months time its highly unlikely that anyone in this town will even remember I was ever in the show in the first place. I've hung in there despite the difficulties, despite even my own husband telling me to quit, despite even a torn ligament in my ankle that makes the 70 odd stairs between the dressing room and the stage incredibly frustrating and painful. I'm literally putting my physical self, my sweat, my energy, my time, my rec leave - everything - on the line.

I think the truth goes deeper than public approval. I look around at this mad, looney, exhausted, spent group of people who turn up every night during this gruelling week of tech rehearsals, their fatigued faces and bodies reflecting my own, and the truth dawned on me that perhaps the reason we do it is because we respect it. We all hold the belief that we can suspend the cruel, cold reality of this world for a couple of hours and create something out of nothing. We believe that what we do matters. We believe in beauty, in truth, in honesty, and we believe in the material so much that we'll pour ourselves out to make that material come alive for someone else.

And most of all, we want to make someone else believe in it too.

I'll never forget September 11, 2001. On that day I was at college, studying music at USQ and had rehearsals for an opera we were doing. We all turned up for rehearals our minds thousands of miles away in New York, when our director, the incomparable Harry Coghill, stood up and made an amazing speech about how what we were doing in the four walls of the theatre would resonate and radiate out into a world that desperately needs escape, and beauty, and purity. That speech has never left me and it reminds me in that moment when I'm standing backstage, listening to the overture, my heart soaring at the familiar music, that what I do on that stage over the next few weeks matters for no other reason than because it's who I am.

Until next time!

Time for an Identity Crisis....

Well hello....if you're reading this you're either one of my friends who has stumbled upon my new corner of the universe, or alternatively its at least 12 months on from when I started this and I've begun telling people about it.

So, here's the deal. 355 days from now I will be eligible to do the biggest thing I've ever done in my life - I'll qualify to have gastric sleeve surgery (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sleeve_gastrectomy) This is not a decision I've made lightly - in fact I agonized over the idea for quite a while before I even mentioned it to my husband. His reaction? He would have piled me in the car and shipped me off to Sydney then and there. The only problem is that my health insurance wasn't sufficient, thus the 12 month waiting period before I can have it done.

I only found out after I made the decision that my psychologist who I've been seeing for about 6 months actually had the surgery done years ago by the same clinic I'm going to. That I guess was a kind of confirmation to me that I'm in the right place and that this is the right thing. In addition my best and dearest friend and her mother are both considering having the surgery also, so there's certainly plenty of people in my life receptive to the idea. The only problem is, I really haven't told many people about it. There's like, two people at work who know, my GP, my husband and his dad, and two of my best friends. That's about it really. And that's probably the way it will stay for quite some time. I don't really want anyone to know because it's such a massive thing to have to go through, and its kinda private - intensely personal and very daunting. I just dont want the scrutiny that always comes with this kind of thing....people at work knowing why I'm taking time off work to go get it done, and then watching every little thing I eat afterwards like a hawk. Looking at my waistline to see how much weight I've lost, swapping war stories with those who've had it done, or knows someone whose had it done, or has a friend of a friend of a friend whose had it done.....I just dont want to go through all the comments, suggestions, etc. If I get a compliment, awesome - i'm all for that - but I'm just not too keen on being under the microscope after I get it done.

So, for now this blog remains between me and whoever stumbles upon it. I do have a burning desire to document the 12 month lead up to the surgery, because it is such a big thing - and it might help someone else considering the same. I also want to start being more aware of what I eat, and how it makes me feel because I know this will be really important post surgery. I also want to start looking at my relationship with food, how it has developed to where we are now, and how it's going to change when food is no longer a major element of my life.

So, to begin, I've been thinking lately about my identity. I've always been a very chubby kid. My grandparents used to pinch my cheeks and my chubby little arms and legs and it was cute for a while - then I grew to primary school and my chubbiness was no longer cute. I've been on a diet since before I can remember because my father was also a fat kid and had a lot of issues with food and fat. So, I have vivid memories as a child being restricted in my food - we'd be at a tennis tournament and my parents would be watching every morsel I put in my mouth at the pot luck lunch. I'd get in trouble if I drank too much milk (I LOOOVEEED milk) and I learnt very early on that it was pretty easy to steal cheese slices from my grandmother's fridge when no one was looking as these would not be easily missed. By the time I was a teenager my dysfunctional love affair with food - ANY food - was well and truly cemented.

It wasn't junk food either - it was milk, bread, leftovers, cheese, anything I could get my hands on that wasn't fruit or veg. I don't really know where the food ends and I begin. The only time I was a healthy weight in my whole life was when I was 14-15 years old - I lost my baby fat and was on weight watchers with my step mother (not officially since I was too young but I was following it along with her). I remember squeeeeeeezing myself into size 13 jeans and being REALLY excited. That was the last time I was a healthy weight - and I was MISERABLE. The mental and emotional abuse I suffered as a child was at its peak around that time. When I turned 16 I went to boarding school and scoffed food like there was no tomorrow. Bread made any boarding school meal edible, and croissants on a Sunday morning were a genuinely thrilling experience.  By the time I came home from boarding school the weight was well and truly creeping back on, and boy did I hear about it from my parents. My grade 12 year was by far the worst year of my life, and not because of my weight but because of the way things were at home. I was back on weight watchers, and I looked AMAZING in my size 14 dress for formal - but from then on things were never the same. University, really crappy college food, lots of study and very little activity meant that by the time I dropped out of my first uni stint with depression I was a shadow of my former self. You can say I've been recovering ever since.

The reason I tell you all this is to point out that my whole life has revolved around my weight and food - I dont really have an identity without dieting, calories, fat, scales and binge eating. It's really hard for me to imagine not being a big eater, and only eating a cup of food at a time. And it has to be energy rich food, so gone will be my days of pigging out at Christmas time, or having a big dinner with friends, or indulging for family events. My life will no longer be coloured by smells, sounds, textures and tastes of a good roast dinner, or my favourite chicken casserole, or a big ol steak.

So who am I without food? What will I do when eating a very small meal takes an hour to eat because I have to chew really slowly? I guess I need to find out now, because soon that will be my reality, and at that point, there will be no going back.

So stay tuned - hopefully in the next 355 days I'll figure it out - and before the end I'll be prepared for the new life that lies before me!

Failing at Life (otherwise known as 'I Wish I was a Smoker')

Yesterday I found myself doing something unexpected......

I watched a couple of my colleagues, packs of cigarettes discretely in hand, leaving the building to go have a cigarette as they do several times per day out the back of our office. They go out, they smoke, they chat about the weather etc. Often they go together, and seek eachother out so they dont have to stand out there alone. Rain, hail or shine there they are, at least three to four times in a working day, puffing away....

And for the first time ever, I wished I was a smoker.

Well, apart from the smoke, and the smell, and the taste, and the health problems, and the affect on my voice, and the bad breath, and the dependancy....

Ok, I admit it, I dont REALLY want to be a smoker. What I did pine for however was an excuse to walk away and do something that would PHYSICALLY calm me down. It was a horrific day, and coupled with a little PMS laced with not getting lunch til 10 past 4 in the afternoon I really didn't cope. I went home last night and collapsed in a ball of tears, anxiety and panic. All over nothing. That's what happens when you work in my line of business and are dealing with an anxiety disorder. There's no rhyme or reason sometimes. Sometimes, you just have to shut down. At least that's what I did last night. I felt helpless, completely at the mercy of my own emotions which in that moment are completely out of control. I take very deep breaths, I plaster a smile on my face and push through, knowing at the end of it I'll be drained, washed out and completely stretched thin. I hate it.

So today I made a decision. I realised that as much as I want to, I cannot complete uni at this time. I want to finish it, I really do, but I just can't continue to run this really ragged race. I feel like I'm failing at life. Everything is done half assed because I dont have the time or the energy to give it what it needs. I have so much on my plate, it's time to take the pressure down a bit. My work is too intense, too emotional, too traumatic for me to continue to push myself in my life outside of work to do everything I want to do. I hate not honouring my commitment to myself to finish this, but it's time for me to take a step back and get my life sorted out.

So tomorrow I have a letter to write, and a text book to sell. I still want to get my masters, and I reckon in the future I'll do it. But right now, I want time. Time to enjoy my home, my family, my life. Time to really devote myself to my job, and time to immerse myself in things that make me feel good rather than things that add pressure to me. Is that selfish? Is that wrong? The biggest regret I have is the hecs fees I've accumulated this semester without finishing. I hate to do that, but I just dont see myself passing. Not the way I am right now. I'd rather withdraw than have a failing grade on my transcript.

So, taking a deep breath and taking a step back. I hope it pays off.

Til next time.....

If Not for Knots....

So, today was a bad day. I guess I was due for one. I didn't realise just one bad day would turn into a whole week though! Between placement breakdowns, court cases that didn't end up happening, disasters and double booked meetings I am completely knackered. And to top it all off, I'm watching Seinfeld alone while hubbie takes a nap.

I am drained, exhausted, stretched thin with a disgusting knot in the pit of my stomach.

On nights like this it feels absolutely hopeless. I feel like I'm not doing anything of any value or purpose. I'm just screwing up other people's lives. I never finish what I need to finish in a day, and I'm just sprinting from one disaster to another but not actually fixing anything.

Everything is bad news, and I'm being piled up with cases that are absolutely hideous with no way of finding any solutions that will make people's lives any better.

Tomorrow I'll wake up, get out of bed and do the whole disheartening process all over again.

And instead of whinging further.... I'm just going to take my depressed self and go have a glass of wine. *sigh*

Until next time....

And the Sun rises....

So this morning I went up to my mountain (I've claimed it as my own with no authority other than I like it and it's mine!) known to the rest of the world as "Oxley Lookout". I go up there every Monday morning that I can gather my thoughts, pray, read the bible and reflect on whatever God has to say to me that day. It's a way of beginning my week with a "bigger picture" perspective - bigger than my own little life and my own little problems. I wanted to first share some pics of my city......

It's a beautiful place. From way up there, it's like everything is put in its place.

The most beautiful thing about my town is that there's a big timber cross at the lookout on the side of the mountain....

I had a good look at it this morning and I realised that if you follow a straight line from the way the cross is facing, it goes directly to the City Council building that is in the main street. 

I dont believe that's by accident. I got goosebumps, because it was such a powerful symbol of how Jesus is King over my town. He's King over the leaders of my city, and over the leaders of my country. He's right there, over everything. Tamworth belongs to Jesus! 

So, on to my bible study. Today I looked at Proverbs 8:32-36 which says the following: 

"Hear instruction and be wise,

And do not disdain it. 
Blessed is the man who listens to me,
Watching daily at my gates,
Waiting at the posts of my doors.
 For whoever finds me finds life,
And obtains favor from the Lord; But he who sins against me wrongs his own soul;
All those who hate me love death.” (NKJV)

I got a few things out of this verse. 

1. First of all, instructions make us wise. As much as it sometimes hurts the ego to be corrected and instructed how to better go through life, we have to acknowledge that it is possible, in fact it's probable, that someone might know better than we do. We cannot be the expert on every topic. In fact the majority of topics!! I cannot say I know much about anything, and I'm certainly not an expert on pretty much anything in this world. This doesn't just apply to listening to other people either, it also applies to listening to what God has to say. The person centred, egocentric "me" approach of this world would have us believe that we're the experts on our own lives. But really, the only expert on me and my life is God. The bible says that God knows every hair on my head - and that means that He is the only one worthy to be called an expert on my life. 

2. We should listen to God. Listening involves not talking. It's so easy sometimes to fall into the trap of using Jesus like a "genie" in a bottle - just putting in our requests and expecting God to give us everything we want. How much of our prayer time is spent talking? How much of it is spent being still, quiet, intent, and LISTENING. I know when I read this I immediately fell quiet and waited for God to speak. And sometimes you have to wait for a while before God answers. The point is you have to be aware and quiet in order to listen. 

3. We have to watch out for what God wants to do. And God doesn't always do things in the way we expect him to. In order for us to discern when God is moving we have to be watching out for Him from all angles. This part of the verse also talks about GATES not just one gate. God has many ways of answering prayer and moving for His glory, and you can bet its often not in the way you expect it! 

4. We have to wait for God to move. This is almost always one of the hardest parts - it's so difficult to not move on something prematurely just because its what WE want or its because its what we think we need. God's timing is NOT our timing, and it's really important that as Christians we ask Jesus to make us sensitive to the promptings of the Holy Spirit.  If God isn't telling us to move, we shouldn't be moving! 

5. God works in black and white - you're either in or you're out. In a world full of greys (some would say fifty or more shades of grey!) God doesn't operate that way. The bible is very clear - if love God, you hate death. If you hate God, you love death. God hates luke-warm - you gotta be all in, or you'll be all out! 

So out of these revelations I listed the following actions: 

- When someone gives me instruction, I won't be offended. I will take the instruction and learn what I can out of it. 

- I will incorporate into my prayer time a substantial amount of time for just being still and listening to God. Deliberately giving time to God to hear what He has to say. 

- I will pray to God for sensitivity to be able to see when and where He is moving - in doing so I will claim for myself peace in every situation because I'll know that whatever happens God is in control. 

- I won't move until God tells me to move. It's all about less of me and more of Him

- I prayed today that God would increase my excitement for him - the excitement I had when I gave my life to Him. Walking with Jesus is an adventure, and you're either all in or all out. There's no room for mediocrity when it comes to witnessing for Jesus and the excitement of my life. 

If you've made it this far you're a verry dedicated reader - I hope these thoughts have blessed you! Have a great week! :) 

Til next time! 

Living at the Hermitage!

So, this weekend, as every weekend, I have struggled with my free time. I hate weekends. I love weekends. Weekends truly drive me bonkers. Friday nights and Saturdays are absolute bliss. I enjoy them and whenever I start feeling a bit stressed I think to myself "its ok, I've still got time..."

Then Sunday rolls around and the morning generally goes ok. I go downtown, I get my grocery shopping done and when I pluck up the courage I go to church. I don't always go, the last two Sundays I've been too chicken but when I can I do because I know its the right thing. I always feel good about going, and I never feel good about not going, but i cannot really explain why I dont go every week other than to say I'm weak and a chicken, and sometimes the stress that I go through physically getting out of the car and walking into church, navigating the gauntlet of awkward hellos and handshakes and fake smiles is just not something I want to go through.

So I go to church, or not, and then by lunch time I have the thought "Oh look its midday already, half my day is over..." and then it begins. I start watching the clock tick down, and I start figuring out how I want to spend the rest of my day, knowing that tomorrow the roller-coaster begins all over again. I begin making lists of housework for the week, meals for the week, I write up schedules for study and generally for my time, and I repeat to myself over and over again to "live in the moment" and "not stress" about tomorrow while that little voice in the back of my head screams at me TIME'S UP! YOU BLEW IT! YOU WASTED YOUR TIME!!!

Then it's a struggle to not panic that my weekend is over and a new working week has begun. It has gotten to the point that when I get teary and panicky my husband gets exasperated, reminding me that he has to deal with this same issue every single Sunday night and telling me that it's ok to have relaxed on my weekend.

Its really hard for anyone who hasn't been there to understand the chaos that goes on behind my eyes. I hide it well, and in social situations no one would ever know the panic I feel when I'm somewhere I dont know anyone. I look for all intents and purposes confident, outgoing and friendly.

It's amazing what one can hide when you have a lifetime of practice at it!

Til next time....