Archive | February 2017

Acting, Smacting

Hello everyone if anyone actually reads this thing!  It’s a pretty Saturday afternoon and the wind is blowing excitedly outside around my body,so naturally, I am having random panic attacks out of no where.  I decided I would listen to some music and write an entry in my blog I have been wanting to discuss since the night of last Monday.  I’m certain I brought this topic up before but just in case, I will first explain my complicated relationship with acting and theatre before I discuss what happened.  Okay, so this is the part where the sappy, “but I just want to dance!”, underdog portion of this story will begin.  I promise I will try to make this as dry and sap free as possible!  If that is even possible.

I don’t know how to write a short story so I will skip many portions of my life and try to get straight to the origin of this story so I can tell my other story.  As a child I had so much, let’s say awkward or alien like, energy about life and fitting in with everyone.  So much energy that I would scare people away from me and during middle school my friends asked me what happened and why I was now acting different.  Middle school for me was a very tough time and I felt as if I was a visitor on this foreign inhospitable planet, therefore, I shut myself down before I could develop any interest in acting which I was actually good at as a child.  Acting without anxiety, how was this ever a thing for little me?  A middle school child decides to stop talking completely and live inside herself, wonder how this will turn out?  Well, bad would be a pretty big understatement as I still have crippling anxiety at the age of 25 struggling to have a regular life.


Okay, so many things have happened since I began writing this draft, and I’m going to quickly sum up what happened and then add on to it with an update.  I will also write another entry about my fifth theatre audition and how that was a bit crippling and depressing but still a master class on learning the craft nonetheless.

I don’t even know if I want to go into detail about what happened anymore and just give the cliffnotes version of what happened that night.  I auditioned for a brilliant African-American play, written by the same playwrite who wrote the play that inspired the breathtaking film Moonlight, and received my first callback ever but didn’t get it.  When things were looking down I was offered a position in the crew but because of my driving phobia (especially downtown at night!) I was turned down for now although the director whom I’m on a first name basis with gave me the same mumbojumbo about being sorry I’m going through this and he will keep me in mind for the future.  The plan was, if my friend could do it she’d be my ride, unfortunately there was only one spot open and she inherited it when I could no longer complete the job.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m over the moon she got the position over some stranger she’s basically my sister, but we all know situations like this tend to cause one hell of a pity party.

Long story short, with the director’s blessings, I was able to attend the dress rehearsal while my friend did her magnificent work with the stage manager backstage.  Like auditioning, lessons, and seeing shows, this is also apart of my training to become a theatre actress.  As many situations go, this experience was surprisingly aided with intense anxiety and depression, it made no sense at all since I was simply watching a dress rehearsal whilst other people worked hard on their jobs.  To someone that doesn’t suffer from chronic anxiety this would have been a nice treat, but oh no, in my mind this became some sort of hellish nightmare.  I learned a lot and enjoyed the hell out of the show (and even more when I saw it with a friend when I paid to see it recently), but I was plagued with derealization and a feeling of other worldliness as the show went on.  Then just like that everything hit me like a bus and came raining hard down on me like a hail storm.  If I couldn’t even sit through a dress rehearsal without having severe anxiety how could I actually be in one?!  Not to mention this always happens at night and nighttime is when my anxiety is at its utmost worse that not even Xanax will make me drowsy.

Despite my parents not wanting me to continue the life of a starving artist and thinking I’m confused I will still walk the yellow brick road to my success in theatre.  As us SGI Buddhists often say, NEVER GIVE UP!

Hopefully my next post will be about my most recent musical audition and the feelings that I am currently still reeling from that night.

Hugs and kisses from your next to normal unicorn,


I Hate Rollercoasters

Image result for it's always sunny the beach

(Photo Credit: It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia,  episode, The Gang Goes to The Jersey Shore) I know they weren’t actually on a roller-coaster during this scene but this exact moment reflects perfectly how I have been feeling. Ouch, I know!  Hello everyone, your sometimes functioning unicorn has returned!  The past few weeks, or months even, have been one hell of a roller-coaster and I’m in anticipation of when it will ever stop and I will be safe and calm again on the ground where I belong.  I’ve had a suicide scare, been constantly questioning whether or not I should commit myself to a hospital but afraid of how my parents will take it (I depend on them for important things and I do not want to break that trust), my anxiety-panic attacks-BPD episodes have decided to up the craziness and shake the cage of my already unstable emotions, been dealing with the horrifying ups and downs of my mom’s (best friend) recent diabetes diagnosis that is no longer comfortably calm, and I’ve been on new anti-psychotics that have been giving me crazy side effects when I NEED to be working now.

I know what you’re probably thinking after the first few words, “WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED”, at least that’s how my friends have been reacting, and my psychiatrist minus the curse word.  Let’s just say it was another west indie parent lecture gone too far that ended in me walking up the stairs with tears painted all over my face to my room like a zombie falling a part from each step.  So not to trigger anyone or relive that painful night I will not go into detail of what happened once I reached the comforting darkness of my room.  Long story short, my cousin threatening to call 911 and have me promise I will not do anything probably saved my life, and I just closed my eyes until I fell asleep.  It’s remarkable how therapeutic closing my eyes and falling into a slumber was.  If I was unconscious I couldn’t do anything at all.  Now, before I move on from this subject, I would like to take the time to address ANYONE who feels suicidal or hopeless at all in this very moment.  PLEASE go to the hospital or call 911 (or the emergency number of your country)immediately.  Reaching out to people that you know will help is also an option as I did or if going to the ER is not an option (it should be your FIRST choice regardless you matter and your health is very important) find a safe-place in a friend or family member that you can stay at for a little while as the irrationality clears from your mind.  And lastly, suicide hotlines exist for a reason and SHOULD be considered during times of crisis.  Here is a link to every suicide hotline in every country:

Okay, now that the very serious issues have been addressed, I will discuss less scary topics. Because I live in America, where you lose your parent’s health insurance once you turn 26, my parents have been putting the pressure on me as my summer birthday is looming eerily soon.  Yes, this is a bit of a first world problem rant and things could be worse, but I’m just discussing what’s happening to me at the current moment and how this is correlated to my anxiety and mental illnesses.  From the instance I was birthed into this world the idea of having ANY job, let alone full-time, felt about as possible as a flying ostrich.  Sure, I have overcome a great deal of accomplishments I never thought I would make it through, college on campus and commuting from home, getting my driver’s licence and driving to and from school, studying abroad in another country, and the list goes on.  Unfortunately, my anxiety and depression has been with me throughout all of these other worldly accomplishments.  Eventually, I was put on a cocktail of psychiatric drugs, and now having health insurance means more than everything to me now.  Not to mention the list of my cocktail keeps being shaken repetitively like a nest of hornets buzzing aggressively with unstable emotions.

I am so very close to walking inside the nearest hospital and committing myself so I can have a break for myself and get my current emotions and panic attacks sorted out like when I did outpatient therapy.  I have been thinking about those times lately and regret the at sometimes uncomfortable but ultimately comfortable feeling of being in group therapy, having my own therapist, being able to get my vitals just like that, having my own psychiatrist who actually knew what they were doing, a group of friends that never judged me because it was like talking to myself in a mirror, and the therapeutic activities they had for us.  I suppose this is the true definition of you don’t know what you had until it is gone.  My biggest fear with committing myself is wasting my parents’ money and wasting the time I have until my birthday when I should be looking for a full-time job I may never be able to weather without a few panic attacks or two.  Being a substitute teacher with a “part-time” job has been stressful enough on my anxiety and depression.

I am certain this is a huge problem for many people, no matter the age, and I want to let every single one of you that you are NOT alone and we can all get through this together, I promise.  To quote Les Miserables, “even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise!”

Love your caring Unicorn xoxo,