When you injure yourself badly enough, you are not just limited physically, but your mental state takes quite a blow. What's worse, is sometimes the physical and the mental team up, and you are not much more than a blob on the couch, figuring out your timing between now and when you have to pee.
In late November, I had won the lottery for the Toronto Fringe Festival for their 2014 season. I already had a few notes down for a play idea, and, based on the timeline I had when I wrote my last play, I had more than enough time to create my new show. When January came around, I didn't have much more written, but I still wasn't concerned. I have always been one who thrives under pressure, whether it came to deadlines in school, or troubleshooting on site for events and work, I am in my element. However, by the end of the month, I was in a full leg brace, trapped on the couch and stuck with noting BUT time.
And that's when I became trapped.
There I was, sitting on the couch, leg propped, with a cup of tea and a blank screen and nothing coming to mind. I had no motivation, no inspiration, and no direction. I could barely decide what to watch on Netflix, let alone brainstorm plot points and dialogue. The last time I wrote, I had a full work schedule, dealing with stresses of life and otherwise, so I mastered the art of time management. I would go to the laundromat and write between loads, I would have endless notes in my phone I wrote on my commute to work, I had scribbles in between notepads at work, I would edit pages as I packed boxes for my move. I even created a scene when I suddenly had to take a trip to Ottawa for a personal matter. I somehow found the time to write a 60-minute play when my free moments were sparse at best.
When I was sitting there with an endless amount of free time, I had nothing. I had no drive, no spirit, not even any real excitement about being able to write again, because I was still trapped on that couch. I couldn't go outdoors safely because of the weather, I could barely bathe myself, I was sore, exhausted, and concerned about how badly I had hurt myself. The one time I did try to go out, I ended up hurting myself further. I essentially became a bummed out bum with not much else to do but wait. I know it may sound like I'm whining, but when you're trapped in a basement apartment trying to maneuver your next bathroom run, it can bring you down.
So, with all this time time and not much writing, I had to come to a very upsetting crossroads: I could try to push through and have a mediocre (at best) show for fringe, not up to my standards, and lose money and (self) respect in the theatre world, or I could drop out of Fringe, getting 50% of my application fee back, and letting another company in that were more prepared and would have a better chance of success. Dropping out, although better in the end, was a huge blow to my confidence. Even with the pressure, I couldn't pull through and complete my task. I had failed myself. I had created a goal for myself, one which I had succeeded in before, but this was a first for me in a very long time.
Yesterday I officially sent in my withdrawal to participate in the 2014 Toronto Fringe Festival. The process was a lot easier than I thought, but the gravity of it has not set in. It sucks, but it's better this way. The show I'm working on, even though it isn't close to being a final product, has become something more personal than I thought it would be. It's something that could be really good, even if only for me.
Admitting defeat and accepting my own failures is not something I will ever get used to. I've always been far too stubborn and bull-headed to admit my own limitations. This time, however, I'm actually glad I was able to see the big picture. Sometimes you need to also accept the bullshit that comes into your life. I was not expecting to hurt myself, and I was not expecting to have these troubles. But they happened, and I have had to adjust my life and change plans, because, well, shit happens. You have to take life as it comes, sometimes you can succeed, some times you can't but you definitely can accept the wins and losses as they come to you. I think this is that 'delicious ambiguity' Gilda was talking about.
Is this that thing people call 'growing up' and 'maturity'? Because it's weird.
-janeovision
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