i slack, i slack?
Well perhaps not - it’s just been a painful (literally and figuratively) mess of months. In attempt to find some ritual peace, quiet, mental and physical well-being, I thought it a good idea to attend a yoga class about which friends were raving in December.
There-in the pain began. Long story short about the disc tears and bulge. Long story long about the medications that gave me panic attacks and twitching arms and tics, long crying jags, and physical therapists who just might as well have been labeled physical sadists. It took me a long time to find the course that seems right for the healing - which i think I’m about halfway through. And I don’t know where the psyche heals in all this.
Being in chronic constant horrible crying jag chronic pain made me realize how much I get out of doing my art and having my art done - because I couldn’t. I missed a trip to Cornell for the Alumni Playwrights Weekend reading of my play Out of Orbit, I missed a trip to North Carolina for the premiere of my play fisssshhhh. I haven’t seen a play in 7 months because I can’t sit comfortably to get through the evening. Somewhere I feel like I’ve lost the compass for my soul, I’ve lost me.
Even now, I’m partway back. Not all the way back. Every outing is considered in how much pain it might cost me. I feel like I’ve lost a lot of independence. My social world has dwindled, my ability to keep on top of my work and my submissions has dwindled. Any and all efforts regarding writing really had to go into the the making money kind of writing - so I’ve become a pitching maven - but man is it weird to tell the development exec “no , I can’t sit on your couch or you’ll have to haul me out in pieces” while hoping the pain meds don’t cause too much memory loss.
And it kills me to look back on the last six months and say “what? what have I done?”
I’ve worked on healing. I’ve lain staring at the ceiling. I’ve swum. I’ve trusted my body to those to be trusted and those not to be trusted. I’ve given up. I’ve gone on. I’ve now an empathy for those who live in daily pain I hope I never take for granted again. What didn’t kill me makes me stronger - or so I hear.
I can’t imagine this won’t all find its way into my next play - or the one after that. Stay tuned.

