Spent the whole day downtown with my company, working on finding a good downtown press rep, reading through the script we’ll be producing in December, grant research and applications, making personnel decisions, etc. I like days like that. You know how summer camps, or maybe, if you were a dancer, an intensive, where you have accepted that your whole day will be devoted to one thing so there’s no anxiety over anything. You can’t eat until it’s eating time, you don’t have to rush anywhere because there’s nowhere else to be, and everyone just sort of does their own thing but you’re doing your own thing together.
I restricted this morning, which led to me getting quite “empty”-feeling by mid-afternoon. I almost left my friends’ apartment for lunch, but I didn’t. I did have a snack at their place, though, which I was proud of. We had sushi tonight, and I ate a lot. Because my mind is a bit in ED-land, it gave me some anxiety to eat a full meal. And then, of course, I bounced back the other direction and considered bingeing on my way home. I didn’t. So that’s something to be proud of.
Something wonderful about my company is that I trust them. However, I’m used to staying quiet, holding myself in, keeping opinions to myself so as not to offend, not to cause rupturing. Yet, in the last few months, because my contract is signed, it’s been some years of friendship and collaboration, and also, I think, because I’ve progressed a bit in my own recovery, I have begun to speak my mind.
And I have opinions. Not always, but often. And of course, working with a company that’s finding its footing requires decisions and conversation– a terrifying thing for me. And although I speak up now, share my opinion, disagree often, I still feel like a bitch when I do it. It’s like having a differing opinion, or an opinion at all, is distancing. If I’m on the “losing” side, I feel stupid. If I “win,” I’m a bitch.
It’s just so much easier to keep quiet and not make waves. To blend in to the background.
Yet, just as much as keeping my true feelings in comforts me, one of the reasons I love the theatre is its transparency. Perhaps it is simply that, like the privileged therapy room in theory, it’s a place where you can bare your soul and be crazy and scared and angry and joyful with no repercussions. If I leave all the business aside, that is a pretty miraculous gift.
I just love it.