… and here we are.
Four days into rehearsals for performing at the international festival, I had a tachycardia episode. Unfortunately, as a university group it has been reported to the students’ union and (surprise surprise) there is a meeting tomorrow morning at which I will inevitably be told that I am too much of a health risk to be taken to Harrogate on Monday. I can’t even get a doctor’s note or ask my cardiologist to be able to vouch for me because I’m still not officially diagnosed, even though when I’ve seen him he’s said that I am safe to perform, and even drive!!
I live to perform, I love it, it’s one of the times I can just forget everything and expel it by pouring it into my music or acting. This specific production I’ve already had to miss out due to my sub-arachnoid haemorrhage in February. I was out of hospital, but due to the lumbar puncture I was in incredible pain and struggled to walk, let alone leap about on stage. I did the men’s make up, which was brilliant, and was the stage manager (we were short on techies, so it worked out rather well). But after that, I have been looking forward to this so so much. Everybody who knows me has been bored to death of the songs, tales of amusing things that happen in rehearsals, and how much I was looking forward to it. It’s really set me back mentally, I am in a very dark place at the minute. I can’t talk to anyone in the group because the union have previously stopped me from performing with another group because of mental health reasons. I can’t tell my mother because she is currently downstairs entertaining various aunts, uncles, cousins and second-cousins. My dad’s there also.
I’ve just had a five minute break from writing (not that you’d know) to say goodbye to everyone and they’ve all wished me good luck with my studies and with Monday’s opera. Immediately ran back upstairs to have a small breakdown.
So I’ve turned here, as I said I would, to get everything out and to try and feel a bit better. I don’t want to see the morning, and I don’t want to try and cling to the small delicate thread of thought that’s saying ‘They might have just made adjustments… you might still be able to…’. I’ve had enough experience now to realise that’s it’s easier for them to turn around and say ‘No’. I don’t blame them. But it’s made me fall into a big black pit that I don’t want to climb out of. I want to stay here and suffocate, just let death take me. It would improve many things: I wouldn’t be a problem to anyone any more, not in any sense. It would be stopped, it would be over. A few people might be upset for a while, but then they would realise the lack of disruption in their lives. It would be for the best.
I do understand their thinking, I know it’s an insurance thing and Health and Safety, but it doesn’t stop it from breaking my heart and my mind every time. I don’t know what to do. This writing isn’t really helping like I hoped it would, so I might just leave it here. I’m sorry for the whining and what must seem like narrow-mindedness, but if you were in my position you’d be feeling exactly the same.
I can’t live like this any more. It’s killing me in more ways than one.