Sunday, July 16, 2017

Sometimes, you really don't know what you got 'til its gone

Hello All!

Let's begin this post with a picture.




There. Now the stage is set. 

Tomorrow marks 7 weeks since my hysterectomy. A few days ago I had my post-op, hey how you doin', follow up. After my Dr. asked me how everything was and if I was feeling good, she said, 

"So, we did a biopsy (of my uterus)."

"Oh, ok." ( I guess it shouldn't have come as a surprise that they did this, but I hadn't really thought about it so it was)

"AND," pause, "You had massive amounts of fibroids!"

I followed this up with a blank stare and some shocked silence. Eventually I said, "What? Really?"

"Yes, that was a surprise!" said my Dr. with real honestly and strangely over the top enthusiasm.

"So, I had fibroids and andenomyosis?"

She glanced at my file, "No, just fibroids."

After few more seconds of trying to take my new diagnosis in, she said something along the lines of fibroids, the kind I'd had, presenting very similar to andenomyosis and that it can be very hard to diagnose. Well, clearly, or not clearly as turned out to be the case, it was a misdiagnosis. After all, she had been sure that I didn't have fibroids. During my appointment in November 2016, she had said that all the bits of things in the muscle of my uterus were most definitely andeomyosis, not fibroids.

So, I'd run with that. I took that condition on. I researched it, joined a group, wrote posts about it, got along with most of the symptoms of adenomyosis AND THEN, turns out I didn't have it at all.

I don't know why, but I felt like a fraud. It was like I'd run around telling everyone that I believed Batman was real guy, and had convinced other people that he was a real guy, only to find out that he wasn't a real guy and I should never have believed in Batman. (Don't worry...I don't really think Batman is a real guy. Or do I?) I was shaken by the misdiagnosis to the point where, by the time I got in the car, after she released me from ever having to see a gyno again (unless my ovaries go nuts), I was half crying, half laughing. 

When I got home I looked up fibroids, and the type of fibroids I had (Intramural fibroids if you're curious.), all the symptoms were spot on with adenomyosis. As well, the only for definite sure-ies way to get rid of them was a hysterectomy. So while I don't regret having the hysterectomy, I truly do wonder if I would have waited longer, or if I would have tried a different treatment approach before saying yes to a hysterectomy. I was left with a feeling of, not regret, but a touch of frustration that my decision to have surgery was based on a condition that I didn't even have. 

In the end, when it's all said and done, I'm feeling MUCH better than I did before my surgery. I probably would have made the same decision since my time of the month was taking up most of my month, my social life, my energy, my well being.

Besides, what can I really do about it? I've had the hysterectomy. My abnormally large uterus that commanded respect, like Batman, is but a legend. I guessing  I really would have just liked knowing the real state of things instead of finding out what I got until after it was gone.

Let's end with a short video.



Until next time,
Respect!
Cin




Monday, June 5, 2017

Post-Op Post



A week ago at this time I was somewhere between naps. Currently I’m trying to find the right words to describe surgery, my short stay at the hospital and my on-going recovery.

What can I say really? I went into the hospital on May 29, 2017 with a uterus and came home on May 30, 2017 without one. I assume by now it's been incinerated and tiny particles of my uterus are now part of a cloud and will soon rain down on strangers in a distant land.

Or on friends and family here in Canada...sorry about that.

If you read my post about my diagnosis of adenomyosis you already know that previous to my hysterectomy I was the owner of an abnormally large uterus, a fact that my gynaecologist/surgeon reminded me of not once, not twice, but three times during my time at the hospital. 

When we were having our pre-op chat she asked me, much as she had at my appointment in February, if we had discussed Mirena, a type of IUD. I said yes we had but that she had said it wouldn’t work for me because my uterus was too large. After a quick scan at my chart she said, “Oh yes that’s right. It is very large and quite wide. The poor Mirena would be lost up there and wonder what it was doing in this monster.”

In our post-op, hey you can go home now chat, she said everything went well, but that they'd discovered I did indeed have fibroids as well as adenomyosis and that my uterus was (emphatic hand gesture) "quite large". (I didn't ask for details, or if they'd had to use a truck and cable to get it out. I just nodded and smiled.)

And now here I sit, or rather recline on my bed like a lady of leisure in my room, without my monster -sized uterus, contemplating my recovery. Aside from a bit of pain, mild discomfort, and times of fatigue I feel okay. I have a month off work and I really hope to make the most of it. Over the last year and a half my life has been interrupted more than once by my condition. I have said no to many things, events and people that enrich my life. I have turned down roles in plays, dinner dates and phone calls with friends, put off writing stories and playing music because I was in pain or tired or had simply run out creative energy. I truly hope to get my life back to where I want it to be.

I want to write more, act more, play more. 

I want to be more than I am right now.

That’s a lot of pressure isn’t it, Cindy? Yes, you are right. It really is. A few weeks ago, I asked my husband what happens if I don’t live up to the freedom of not having a uterus. He just shook his head and asked, “Who is putting this pressure on you?”

“Nobody but me.”  I said.

If I go back to work not having done anything except finish all of Silicon Valley or read two or three books or sat on my front deck and watch the clouds drift by will I have failed my new-found freedom? Or will I simply taken that freedom and used it to give myself a break from feeling like I always should be accomplishing something?

Or worse, what if I really don’t have anything to say, to write about, to learn on the ukulele that hasn’t already been done by 1000 other people and I no longer have an abnormally large uterus to hide behind and use as an excuse to not do anything? What if this is it? My creative drive has actually dried up and I may as well get used to my future accomplishments being things like catching up on Suits. (which is a great show! I mean no disrespect!)

However, I know I'm just being silly. That last paragraph was self-indulgent nonsense. While in the next month I may not write an epic saga or become an expert on the ukulele I know that my purpose here and now, no matter how big or small the project, is to be creative. It is the force that drives me. My new-found freedom and need to be creative is not new-found at all. 

It’s just been hiding for a while behind an abnormally large monster.


The best to you,
Cin: Now uterus free.


Wednesday, February 15, 2017

Massive Hysteria


I don’t mean to brag but, I have an abnormally large uterus.

Or at least that’s what my gynaecologist told me last November as she studied with, dare I say, intense awe at my uterine ultra sound scans.

It’s hard to know how to respond to a statement like that. And she said it not once, but twice!  Emphatically, along with “It’s huge! And very chunky!”

Instead of saying, “Oh go on with you! I’ll bet you say that to all the girls!” I just said, “Okay…"

The inspection of my scans continued in between glances at my file and explanations of what I didn’t have.

“You do not have fibroids!”

Back to my file.

“Your ovaries are fine!”

Back to my scans.

“You had an endometrial biopsy! Who gave you that?”

Back to my file.

“You have…”

Back to my scans.

“Andenomyosis!”

“What is that?”  I asked. The word meant nothing to me except that it sort of sounded like endometriosis and as it turns out, sort of is like endometriosis. You see, while endometriosis is when the endometrial tissue grows outside the uterus in all sorts of places, adenomyosis is when the endometrial tissue, instead of just growing in the uterus like good endometrial tissue is suppose to, grows in the muscle of the uterus. So, every month, when my uterus gets rid of the tissue in its painfully dramatic fashion, it also gets rid of the endometrial tissue in the muscle of my uterus.

While I listened to my gynaechologist give me the story of adenomyosis and all the issues that come with it, my symptoms suddenly made perfect sense and I was flooded with relief. I wasn’t crazy! It’s not all in my head! My pain is real and I have good reason to feel miserable a great deal of the time!

After the explanation she immediately launched into a talk about treatments. They were four-fold.

“One! You could have an ablation, but I would not recommend it (didn’t she just do that?). It won’t work and you will come back to me saying you’re in more pain!”

“Two! You could get an IUD that would release progesterone into your uterus thereby slowing the bleeding! But, in a uterus of your size (thanks?) I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“Three! We could try pain management with a stronger pain killer and continued use of Tranexamic Acid to slow the bleeding.” (You know, the stuff they prescribe to people after they’ve had dental surgery? To stop the bleeding?)

“Four! A partial hysterectomy. What would you like to do?”

I sat quietly for a few seconds, mulling over my situation and the four, but really two, options laid out before me.

“Um…” I said, “Let’s try pain management first and then if that doesn’t work…a hysterectomy?”

“Ok!” she said as grabbed her prescription pad and started writing. "I'll prescribe enough for three months and then you can come back in for a follow up."

I thanked her very much but before I left I needed to have a peek at my scans. I leaned over her desk to get a good look at my large, chunky uterus. The endometrial tissue was all over it, peppering the entire surface. It looked like a constellation with a concentration of stars in the top left corner of my uterus. I pointed that area out to her and said a lot of my pain seemed to be focused right there.

She said, “Well yes! Look at it! This area…”and with a gesture akin to jazz hands she exclaimed, “This area commands respect!”

I did not laugh. I did not say, “Damn right it does!” but smiled because it was one of the best things, regarding my physical self, that I’d ever heard.

And now, here I am on my 44th birthday. Last week, after three months of not so much pain management as much as learning that stronger meds don’t really help, and my life is still being interrupted by being bouts of stabbing pain, I’ve decided to have a hysterectomy. I am nervous, but I know, once it’s all said and done, I will feel a whole lot better.

And I will look back fondly at the girl who once had an abnormally large uterus that commanded respect.




Sunday, January 1, 2017

2016: Let's Break It Down!



Hello Everyone and Welcome to 2017!

2016...am I right?

Yes, sir before the clock struck 12 last night, a lot of people said they would be very pleased to see the back end of 2016. Once midnight hit they let out a soul wrenching “Happy New Year”, or texted a meaningful “Happy New Year”, or screamed nonsense to the night gods and swore they will never drink again and please for the love of all that’s holy, do not move me from this snow bank. You know, normal new years stuff.

 And then, after the cheering faded away, and the attempted singing of Old Lang Syne lost its luster, they let out deep sigh of relief that 2016 was over and now hope with every fiber of their being that 2017 will be grand.

 2016...not the best year, but was it as horrible as some people are saying? All years have tragedy, heartache, events that make us shake our heads. Every year we all go through a myriad of ups and downs with both the world and in our own lives. Every year we look at each other and ask, “Gah! When will this year end?” or say, “Fast the way the old year passes, fa la la la la”, and yet, when we think about last January, it’s hard to remember what we did, or what happened in the world. A year is a long time. Good things will happen. Bad things will happen. Events you planned, will come to fruition. Happenstances that you never thought would happen, will happen. People you thought were funky keen on January 1st could quite possibly be your enemy come December 31st. (It’s good to have goals right out the gate.)

Well, whatever the reasons, I’m not going to dwell on the negative. A lot of sadness occurred, and events that I refuse to talk about because they send me into a white-hot rage took place. In my personal work bubble, I’m just going to say that I, and most of my co-workers, have found this year to be somewhat challenging. We all hope that work wise, 2017 will not be a repeat of 2016.

So, in celebration of hope, I’m going to go through my year and list positive happenings from every month. This is for me, mainly, but I join you to stick around and share in my reflection of 2016, the year many people were itching to say goodbye to.

January: I’ve got my calendar beside me, the big one we keep in the kitchen with all our what’s happenings on it…And…wow, the memories are foggy. OH, a lovely man who has now directed me 4 times asked me to be in 2 plays this year. That was very flattering and I was happy to accept.

February: Oh boy…ok, not going to lie…this was a dark month. I’m struggling here. Right, on February 7th I went crazy and bought tickets for myself, my daughter Sorcha and her friend Cas for a Supernatural (as in the TV show) Convention. It was happening in October in Toronto. It was something to look forward to.

March: I had a couple days off to myself, but they weren’t supposed to be. They were supposed to be spent with my daughter, during March break, but March break turned out to be the week after. This may seem mean to be happy to have time alone, but sometimes you just have to binge watch something silly to feel that all is right with the world.

April:  On April 15th, I went to a play that had many people in it that I like and have worked with before, but this one was extra special because my husband was in it. Sean and I met in college in a drama program and we worked together in and out of school a lot, but the last time Sean had been on stage was almost 20 years before. I was so proud of him and I’m excited because this we get to be in a play together.

May: Through the Writers’ Federation of New Brunswick, I received an honourary mention for a short story I’d written called, “Falling Into”. I’m very proud of this story, but honestly, I wrote it to get rid of some demons and wasn't sure if anyone else would connect with the tale of a young lady who wakes up one morning to find that her spine, her metaphorical spine, has left her to go do all the things she doesn’t have the courage to do.

June: At work, I took the plunge and joined a particularly challenging team. It almost broke me, and I only lasted 8 weeks, but I learned a lot and don’t regret it. It may be strange to find something that brought a HUGE amount of bone crushing stress to my life to be somewhat positive, but it was. I won’t do it again. Don’t make me go back, but it was.

July: Very good friends of ours from Toronto came to visit for a weekend. They are some of our favorite people and always bring happiness and good vibes into our lives. It was lovely. Also, Sorcha and I took an overnight trip to Moncton to spend time with great people. These friends are always a breath of fresh air and it’s always nice to spend time with them.

August: This is the month my year got better and it was in large part to going on a road trip around the east coast with one of my oldest and dearest friends. It was exactly what I needed to break from a lot of the stress chains that were preventing me from seeing how much good I have in my life. I can’t thank Kim enough for that trip. It was beautiful.

September: Sean and I had a getaway to St. Andrews, New Brunswick. We went whale watching, ate at some great restaurants, stayed at a beautiful spot, saw a friend I hadn’t seen in a few years and bought 2 of her beautiful paintings. If you’ve never been to St. Andrews drop what you’re doing and go now. You won’t regret it.

October: This month is usually our best month of the year and once again, it did not disappoint. I could go on and on about our trip to Toronto for the Supernatural Convention, but in brief I'll say it was an incredible experience. Not only was the convention itself a great time, but we had perfect weather, saw lots of good friends, and went to the Royal Ontario Museum. It was an exhausting, but highly memorable and exciting 5 days.

November: This was the month of plays. Both my daughter and I were involved in productions and they went up only a week apart. The play she was in, “The Lion King”, was an absolute joy. All the cast and crew worked so hard to put on this much beloved musical.  It was beautiful and I was, and am, so proud of all of them.

The play I was in, “Waiting for the Parade” was on of the best plays I’ve been in. It was perfectly written, with well developed characters and it was a challenge I needed in my creative life. I’ve been playing around on the piano since I could sit at one. I took lessons off and on in my teens, but had only played publicly once. (I was 14, it was a recital, I'm sorry Anne Murray for butchering one of your tunes.) In the play, my character played the piano and sang and ordered people around all at the same time. I was nervous, and thought I'd maybe taken too much on,  but after I enlisted the help of the very talented and inspirational Margaret Craig, my confidence grew and I did it; I played the piano on stage, in front of people, and survived. Not only that, I screwed up, big time one night, and survived. And while I did a bit of...ok a lot of...ego beating back stage, once I’d settled down, I felt prouder of myself than I’ve possibly ever felt. I'd messed up in front of a live audience, I'd had to quickly find a way out of it, not melt down and stay in character. It was an actor’s nightmare and I lived it in front of 200 people and pulled through. What's that universe? Why yes, I'll take that high five. Thank-you.

And finally,

December: A look at our calendar shows that the Rule’s were a social bunch! It was month of dinners, phone calls to loved ones, parties and long chats with great friends. Last night, New Year’s Eve was full of laughter and absolute silliness, a perfect ending to any year!

Other events, unfortunately trying ones, peppered our year and gave it a hue of stress that made for some tough times. My Mum suffered an injury so severe last February that we weren’t sure if she’d ever be able to walk properly again, but she healed and overcame a lot of odds. She’s a pillar of strength and I admire her beyond words. My job is beyond crazy, but I made it. I’m still standing and come January 3, 2017 I’ll be back at my desk, working away, hoping things will get better. My daughter has had her ups and downs too and Sean, but we’re a close family and we stick together. We have each others backs. We’re each others rocks.

Strong family, wonderful friends, good fortune and a happy home. We had them at the beginning of 2016 and we still have them now.

So while for some 2016 was a year to forget, it gave us a lot to remember and to cherish.

2016...am I right? It was a pretty good year.

Cin






Friday, August 19, 2016

The Long Road of Memories



Me, Cynthia, Liza, and Kim: June 1988

Almost 30 years. That's how long we've known each other. Of whom do I speak? Well, I'll tell you.

 In September 1987 I started grade nine. We had just moved to Ottawa, I didn't know a soul, and my new school had close to 2000 kids. My grade nine class alone, had close to 900 kids; more kids than were at the junior high school I'd left behind in Victoria.

I floundered through my first day in a sweaty haze, never quite shedding the embarrassment of having my book bag on the lap of a  boy I didn't know for the bus ride to school. ( My bus was crazy full. 3 kids per seat, and those of us at the last stop, in the aisle. My bag had no choice but to cozy up to a stranger.)

I remember sitting on the front step of the school at lunch time, not being able to eat  because of the ever tightening knot in my stomach and wishing I was anywhere but there. Most of the kids had at least had tour of the school before they'd started, knew at least one other person, but I was hopelessly alone and often that day, completely figuratively and literally,  lost. It would have gone down as one of my worst days if it hadn't been for Liza.

After school both she and I stood outside the entrance closest to the office. She looked nice, and like me, lost. We started chatting, wondering out loud really, where on earth we went to catch the buses home. Through a series of quick questions, I discovered that like me, she was new to Ottawa and knew no one. I immediately clung to her like a life raft and desperate not to have my second day be like my first, asked her if we could hang out the next day.

As we made our way to where we thought the school buses might be, we saw Cynthia. She was in striped pink top and leaning on a wall. Liza introduced us. She and Cynthia were both a year older than me and had met in few classes earlier that day. Like Liza and I, Cynthia was new and knew no one.

We three then walked until we found the buses and that's where Liza introduced me to Kim. She was in grade nine, like me, but not new. However, she and Liza were on the same bus and became fast friends and often during my grade nine year, she would hang around with Liza, Cynthia, and I.  Come the next year, Cynthia and Liza moved, and Kim and I started to hang out on a regular basis.

So, why am I telling you this? Well the reason I'm sharing this tale is because high school is crazy. Friends come, friends go, friends become enemies one minute, best friends the next. I've stayed in touch with a few people from high school days and these three girls, the first people I became friends with on my first day of school almost 30 years ago are still in my life. They are still my friends.

Liza, I've not seen since 1990 and we had a gap of many years where we weren't in touch, but when I reconnected with her through social media 10 years ago, anyone listening to our long overdue phone conversation would never know it had been at least 10 years since we'd spoken.

Cynthia and I see each other every couple years. Her wonderful and talented daughter Kylah is my Goddaughter. When Cyn and I meet up, we fall right back into our friendship as if we lived next door to each other.

Kim is a world traveler. She comes back to Canada every few years but mostly lives abroad and travels more than anyone I know. She stays in touch though. Christmas cards and emails, visits here and there, including an amazing meet up in London, UK last fall.

And tomorrow, the two of us are going on a road trip. Kim is flying in from Ottawa and we are heading to PEI. Ever since she was very young, Kim has been an Anne of Green Gables fan. Red headed and spirited like Anne, Kim read all the books, collected souvenirs , and has an autographed picture from Megan Fallows, the actress who portrayed Anne in the mini series from the late 1980's, BUT she has never been to PEI. I've said to Kim, "I have picture in my hallway of you with a camel, standing in a desert in India. I can't believe you've never been to PEI."

To commemorate this occasion, to celebrate our friendship, I'm calling this the, "We've known each other for almost 30 years East Coast road trip." I'm beyond excited to share with my lovely friend the joys of the east coast, to be witness to watching her see places she's never seen, just as she watched me meet London and what in had to offer last October. It will be a week making memories with someone who has already been a part of so much of my life and I couldn't be happier.

And Liza and Cynthia? You're coming too.

Who's ready for a road trip??

Thursday, July 7, 2016

Kim Fletcher, your Birthday Blog Post is Ready!






   Just over a week ago I had a nice, long, catch up chat with my good friend Kim. It had been a substantial amount of time since we'd talked, but like I knew it would be, it was fine; exactly as if we'd never skipped a day without talking to each other. It's a comfort, a constant, and I never take that kind of connection for granted.

   In the middle of our call Kim said, "I graduated from high school 25 years ago today." I responded with, "Wow, you're right. That means 25 years ago at this time I was traveling back to Victoria with my family." Kim then said, "That means that we've been friends for almost 25 years."

   When I moved back to Victoria after living in Ottawa for 4 years everything had changed. My friends had grown up, some of my friends had grown apart, and many of my friends had grown away from me. I was adrift in sea of awkward circumstance that honestly, I had never considered would be a possibility. I had assumed that everyone would be so excited to see me! That people I'd known since I was 5 and professed to have missed me in the letters I'd received over the 4 years would be happy I was back.

   This was not the case. They were pleased to see me at first, but then, they weren't. No one was mean, no one was cruel. We just didn't fit anymore and it was with a very heavy heart that I began the second chapter of my life in my home town. Everyone had made plans for their future, but I wasn't in them.

   Everyone that is except for Wendy. We'd stayed close during my stint in the nation's capital and while I was a bit chocked when I found out she was going to go to Simon Fraser University in Burnaby instead of going to University of Victoria with me, our friendship remained intact. And before she headed across the Juan de Fuca straight she gave me a great gift: Kim.

   Kim and Wendy had become close friends in high school. Before I moved back to Victoria I'd heard about her from Wendy. I was a bit, not going to lie, jealous of this Kim as she'd been the special friend who'd got to experience the ups and downs of high school with Wendy while I only got to hear about it letters and late night phone calls.

There's  lot of hair in this picture...
   However, when I finally met this Kim at the movies (Beauty and the Beast) in August, a couple weeks before University started, all my jealousy melted. I liked her immediately. She was fun, smart, and kind. Plus she laughed at my stupid jokes, which is always a good path to my heart. I hoped that we would be friends, but wasn't sure if we'd meet up and figured our paths would only cross when Wendy came home from university on holidays.

   The first day of University was nerve wracking to say the least. I was scared and nervous about my future. When I hopped on the city bus to the big school, I thought was going to be sick. But then I saw a familiar face: Kim. She was sitting alone, looking a little anxious and invited me to sit with her. For the entire bus ride to UVic, I talked her ear off. I don’t remember what I talked about. I just remember being so happy that I wasn't experiencing my first day alone and I a strong feeling that we were going to become good friends.

   And we did. By the time Wendy came home for Thanksgiving, we were inseparable and anyone would think Kim and I had known each other for years. Many Friday nights, I would be found watching taped videos off of Much Music at Kim's place. I don't know how many times we watched those World on Edge, or Bryan Adams, or Roxette videos, but they never got old. We bonded over them and movies like The Shawshank Redemption and Gleaming the Cube. (Kim worked at video store. It rocked!
Oh my...how we swooned.

   After our first year at UVic, we both decided it wasn't for us and for the next while, we kind of lived parallel lives. We both took a year off, we both moved to Ontario a year later, we both went to college in Ontario where we both met Ottawa boys whose fathers worked for Bell Canada and knew each other. (The fathers knew each other, not our boys).

   Both of us married our Ottawa boys and settled in B.C. At first Kim was in Victoria and I was in New Westminster, but not long after, she was there too and moved to apartment not very far away. We both got pregnant in 2001 and had daughters only 6 and half months apart.

   However, it wasn't in the cards for our paths to continue running side by side-ish. In 2006, my family and I took the plunge and moved across the country to Miramichi where my husband had found a job in his field of animation. As Kim and I hugged goodbye and wiped away tears, I felt the 15 years of friendship and memories fill my heart to the breaking point. She had been with me through so many tough times, happy experiences, embarrassing scenarios that I'd care to not remember, and here she was again. Supporting me and helping me to embrace a future that was as uncertain and scary as it had been that day I'd seen her on the bus to UVic.

Kim and I in Ottawa, July 2014
  The last 10 years have gone by in the blink of an eye. Our kids have grown, we've suffered losses, celebrated gains and while we haven't experienced these things together, they haven't created a distance between us. We have grown up, but not grown apart and I think in 25 years one of us will say to the other, "We've known each other for almost 50 years."

   Kim, this one is for you.

Wednesday, January 6, 2016

So...the thing is...the play?


The play, Hamlet; it's what got us to London.

I've thought of that sentence many times over the last few weeks, but not what would come after it. My intention upon returning from our two week trip to London was to write, write, write. Not just about our trip, but new stories inspired by what I saw and what I experienced. I was so sure the desire to get down on paper, or screen, every detail of our trip would be present because I would want to remember everything, right? I would feel new, fresh and creative once again, right?

But that hasn't happened. We've been home for over two months and I've written one completely unexpected blog post about one moment of our trip. For the most part the words have not wanted to leap out of me like some sort of crazed beast. Instead they've stayed trapped behind a wall of routine. I often grab a notebook and a favourite pen, hold it too tight and stare at the blank page, but try as I might, the words don't come. The will to write fades and is quickly replaced with an achy sleepiness that is unfortunately becoming a state where I live out most of my days.

There is so much I could say about London but honestly a lot of our trip is still the "feelings", many things done and seen are still locked in a place of emotional experience not ready for words. And what tales I could put into words, I just can't find the energy to write it all down.

This is sad. This is frustrating. This is not me. Over the last few years I've taken to writing much like I've always taken to acting. It became a part of me. It kept me going. I needed to write. And now…it's slipping away.

It is a painful for me to acknowledge, as obvious as it is, that over the last year my creative writing has come to almost a standstill. London aside, there's a lot I would like to say, but I just can't. Like exactly why I'm very angry, often. This anger that I can feel living inside me, eating away on my nerves and sense of reason. Yes, this anger, I'm so very tired of it. It's like a poison. It's suffocating and it's hard to breath creativity into life when are gasping.

There is a lot I need to let go of, I just wish I knew how.

Or rather, that I had the courage to let go.

Because you see, the play, it was the most amazing thing and one day, I hope to be able to tell you why.