"You are now in control of the parachute."

Ok, picture this:
You climb into a perfectly healthy airplane with 15-or-so other people. You squeeze in, put on your seat belt, and the plane takes off. It's a small plane, so the ride is a little bumpy, but really not bad. You stare out the window as you climb through the clouds - it's been a few years since you've flown and you'd forgotten how much you like takeoff. The proverbial seat belt sign is turned off, and you unbuckle and chat with the people around you. Before you know it, you're being strapped to a bearded Aussie named Steve while watching the door open and the people in front of you begin their 10,000 foot fall. Steve scoots the two of you up to the door, you cross your arms over your chest, lean out, and...

Post-jump is all you get. Pictures from them were too steep for us!
I am aware that we (unintentionally) look like Christmas.

HOLY SHIT YOU GUYS!
I JUMPED OUT OF A PLANE TODAY!

By "I", I mean "Rich and I".
By "Rich and I", I mean "Rich and Larry" and "Steve and I".

It was crazy. Brilliant. Incredible. Insert positive adjective here. There really are no words to describe how amazing the whole experience was. We weren't even sure we were going to get to go up because of the weather - it was pretty cloudy when we got there and they hadn't done a jump all day because of it. We were lucky enough to be able to sneak in during the one window of clear sky all day. They were so anxious to get people jumping that we (shh! don't tell!) ended up skipping the training video/mini class session and just went straight into action.

The view from the sky was beautiful! As soon as we got below the cloud cover we had a great view of Chicago and the lake (and Gary, but meh, it's Gary.) Remind me to wear a sports bra next time, though. As soon as he opened the chute I got all kinds of painfully smashed. Probably the most terrifying part - for me, anyway - was when Steve handed me a pair of yellow straps and then said, "You are now in control of the parachute." ARE YOU KIDDING ME? HOLY ADRENALINE, BATMAN! haha

I called my brother after we left - he's been more than a few times and loves it - and we decided to go next summer when he gets out of the Navy. I'm looking forward to once again hurling myself at the earth!

There may be another post to follow about how I lied on my paperwork and how I later realized that the adrenaline surge felt almost exactly like being manic. If I feel like writing one. Hah!

Next To Normal - Because No One Said Life Would Be Easy

I'm the ME/spot op for Next To Normal this month, opening this past Friday, and, I'll tell ya what, it has been kind of rough on me. Initially, I was really excited to be working on this particular show, given that it revolves around a bipolar woman, and that's something I can relate to. Now that we're through tech week and opening weekend and I've stopped crying during every show, I'm starting to realize just how challenging this experience is for me.

I was diagnosed with bipolar two years and five months ago. I've spent a fair bit of time over that period trying to figure out how to explain bipolar, explain why "I don't know" is a perfectly acceptable answer to "How are you?", explain why sometimes I renege on plans, don't answer the phone or call you back, don't follow through, avoid people, and then WHAM! A piece of theatre - which, if you know me, you know is pretty much my lifeblood - that, in act I, makes me feel like I'm watching a part of myself on the stage, explaining everything I've been trying to, in song.

In the past, theatre has been an escape. A chance to pretend to be someone else, to get lost in someone else's life for a while. With this show, it suddenly ceases to be that escape and instead becomes a very real interpretation of the life I actually live. While bipolar manifests differently in different people and Diana's is more severe than mine, she and I still share the fundamental highs and lows.

At one point in the show, Diana is seeing her psychiatrist for regular medication adjustments and reports to him that she doesn't feel anything. The doctor notes that this means she is stable - a comment that has repeatedly made audience members laugh. This is, I think, the only audience reaction to this show that has really bothered me. Are they laughing because they're uncomfortable, or do they actually find this sad truth to be funny? I've had a similar experience with my own doctor, and it's not even funny in hindsight. I've been on lithium (see previous post), I've tried drugs that work, drugs that don't work, drugs that give me rashes and headaches, I've seen counselors, done workbooks, I've taken myself off meds, put myself back on meds, and I've self medicated (though mostly with exercise, caffeine, and the chiropractor). I put a lot of work into trying to stay myself, haha.

People have spent a lot of time trying to talk to me about controlling my mood swings, and in doing this show, I've learned that, for me, it's not about controlling my highs and lows because, in all honesty, I can't. I am made acutely aware on a near daily basis just how little control I have over the comings and goings of my highs and lows. What's more important is how I react to and use these swings. I am lucky enough to have a fairly high level of self awareness, but I'm still learning how to manipulate my depression and hypomania into something more accessible and usable and I'm sure I will spend the rest of my life working on that task - something I'm finally coming to terms with.

All I can really say right now is thank you to the cast and crew of Next To Normal. In some small way you have all, even unknowingly, contributed to my betterment and sanity.

Falling Awake

Lately I've been feeling stuck part way between stable and depressed. I can't quite seem to boost myself out of the hole, even though I can see over the top just a little bit.

I've had that skin-stretched-back feeling in my face a lot lately, and last Friday night I had a panic attack when I tried to go grocery shopping. I couldn't even be in the Meijer perking lot - I started crying, curled up in Joey's front seat, and requested french fries. I've found that if I have a panic attack and I acquire food that I can eat slowly, it will help regulate my breathing and calm me down. Might not be the best way to help diffuse, but there are definitely worse things to pacify myself with than food.

And, of course, there's the insomnia. I'm so tired right now I want to cry, but I can't fall asleep! And at 2am, it's too late to take my sleeping meds. Tomorrow I might try taking them at 9pm or so and seeing what happens.

Seriously, 2:09am! My "falling asleep" has become "falling awake".

Kneading

I hate being depressed and unable to take care of myself. I hate needing people. I hate needing someone to say "hey, Carrie, let's go for a walk" and then walk with me for an hour without saying a word - because, let's be honest, who can do that?

Frankie, baby!

"Being an 18-karat manic depressive and having lived a life of violent emotional contradictions, I have an over-acute capacity for sadness as well as elation."
-Frank Sinatra

Semantics Facebook Rant!

just wanted to save a copy of my Facebook status:

Here's the thing - and I may be getting caught up in semantics, here - but I absolutely hate the use of the term "disorder". I don't have a mental disorder, I don't have a mental illness, I'm just not average and therefore I've been given a label with a negative connotation and stigma attached.

I don't HAVE bipolar, I AM bipolar. It's not an infection that will go away with antibiotics, it's a part of me. Some days it's completely wonderful, and some days it feels like I'm bleeding hundreds of emotions through every orifice and they're really sticky and gross and no matter how hard I try I can't make them stop and I can't stop crying or laughing or raging or all three at once and my thoughts won't stop racing and I write run-on sentences.

Even those days are worth it when I can look back on them and think about who I would be if I'd never had that experience.

work, in so many ways

I've been overwhelmed lately. In the spring I auditioned for a show at the Civic, and got a part. We opened this past Friday, had a great audience, a fun show, and I'm looking forward to two more weekends of performances. This is, however, the first big part I've had in a show in eight years and it was definitely a stressful process. I'm no longer used to memorizing lines or tight, three-part harmonies with choreographed pseudo-ballet movement attached. I've really spent a lot of the rehearsal process re-learning how to be a performer, among other things.

A little over two weeks ago, I applied for the temporary master electrician job at the same theatre. I've now held that position for a week and a half, and while I'm not as stressed out as I thought I'd be going in, I'm still not used to thinking about the lighting for three shows at once, plus setting up for a fundraiser event. And I have an intern. As in, I'm someone's BOSS. It's crazy! I'm worried because I don't have a whole ton of experience, but they knew that when they hired me.

Two days ago, I got an email from one of the board members at Farmers Alley asking if I'd stage manage a two-day gala-type event that he and his family are wanting to put on in the space in November.

I also have nearly 1200 wedding photos to edit.

I am completely exhausted, but here I am, awake at 12:30 on a Sunday night, thinking about getting some tea before bed.