*His cobalt shirt flees the scene.*
*Strength and grace led me here.*
*My squashed heart bleeds into black.*
30.7.08
FLOWING THROUGH THE FEAR
In a flash your heart smacks the wall of your chest. It becomes harder and harder to breathe and everything feels like it's closing in around you. The shroud of fear has gotten you again.
Unfortunately, fear is not just an emotional response reserved for life or death situations. We are born with it and as humans are exposed to people and situations that could cause us to fear unnecessarily. Traumatic events can be minimal in duration and size, but their effects could last a lifetime.
For my mother, the mere thought of leaving the house brings about intense feelings of fear. On a recent trip to visit my family, I was elated at my success at getting her out of the house! Driving aimlessly, we soon approached the Aquarium of Niagara Falls. I suggested we stop for a visit. After getting comfortable with the environment at the outdoor sea lion pool, my mom was able to make her way indoors.
Cozy and dark; along with the smell of marine life, it was as if we were floating serenely in the mix. Small tanks filled with various fresh and salt water creatures lined the perimeter of the room. In the center of it all was the bottom of a large round tank that held four sea lions.
Winding around the exhibit path, we heard the most horrible shriek. It was a child's voice and it echoed throughout the aquarium. When the screeching grew closer, I looked back and saw a father forcing his young son to look at the sea lions as they swam playfully in the bright blue tank. Kicking and screaming he tried to pull away from his father's clutch. The man grew more determined to control the frightened boy as he pressed his son's tiny face into the cold, sweaty glass. Eventually, the father took his son into the bathroom and both came out quietly moments later.
It was difficult to witness and not be able to help a scared child. My mother said, "That's making my heart hurt, I might have to leave." I responded, "It seems like he's trying to make him a "man" by forcing him to not be afraid." I reassured her by reminding her to just stay focused and breathe.
Fear is an emotion that can stem from past traumatic experiences, a true present danger or the unknown of the future. The level to which it escalates is dependent upon numerous factors. But, with gentle persuasion it is possible to come out from under fear's debilitating grasp.
My mother had connected with boy's tremendous fear. She became both emotionally and physically disturbed. Without the gentle help of another, she may have had a panic attack and missed out on what was otherwise a lovely day
Unfortunately, fear is not just an emotional response reserved for life or death situations. We are born with it and as humans are exposed to people and situations that could cause us to fear unnecessarily. Traumatic events can be minimal in duration and size, but their effects could last a lifetime.
For my mother, the mere thought of leaving the house brings about intense feelings of fear. On a recent trip to visit my family, I was elated at my success at getting her out of the house! Driving aimlessly, we soon approached the Aquarium of Niagara Falls. I suggested we stop for a visit. After getting comfortable with the environment at the outdoor sea lion pool, my mom was able to make her way indoors.
Cozy and dark; along with the smell of marine life, it was as if we were floating serenely in the mix. Small tanks filled with various fresh and salt water creatures lined the perimeter of the room. In the center of it all was the bottom of a large round tank that held four sea lions.
Winding around the exhibit path, we heard the most horrible shriek. It was a child's voice and it echoed throughout the aquarium. When the screeching grew closer, I looked back and saw a father forcing his young son to look at the sea lions as they swam playfully in the bright blue tank. Kicking and screaming he tried to pull away from his father's clutch. The man grew more determined to control the frightened boy as he pressed his son's tiny face into the cold, sweaty glass. Eventually, the father took his son into the bathroom and both came out quietly moments later.
It was difficult to witness and not be able to help a scared child. My mother said, "That's making my heart hurt, I might have to leave." I responded, "It seems like he's trying to make him a "man" by forcing him to not be afraid." I reassured her by reminding her to just stay focused and breathe.
Fear is an emotion that can stem from past traumatic experiences, a true present danger or the unknown of the future. The level to which it escalates is dependent upon numerous factors. But, with gentle persuasion it is possible to come out from under fear's debilitating grasp.
My mother had connected with boy's tremendous fear. She became both emotionally and physically disturbed. Without the gentle help of another, she may have had a panic attack and missed out on what was otherwise a lovely day
24.7.08
OUT OF THE STAGE DOOR
As I opened the stage door and headed to the basement the odor hit my nose like a lightning rod. It reminded me of the inside of a dirty old sneaker. At that moment, I knew I had to quit my job.
It was the anniversary of my surviving a brutal attack. Three long years had passed and I was feeling grateful to be alive. As I lay in bed that morning, I had deemed it my Re-Birthday. I decided that my life had to change; it was just a matter of when.
My cats, Clive and Duke came to coax me out of bed. I followed them into the kitchen and fed them while I brewed myself a strong cup of coffee. Cup in hand, I headed to the patio to clear my head. As I sat in my garden, I repeatedly affirmed that I would have a good day despite my dread of going to work.
My morning continued with my usual subway commute. It was 11 am when I arrived at the theater. While walking down the narrow stairs to the basement, I muttered "Why am I working somewhere that is so unhealthy for me?"
I plopped my bag on top of the too low, cramped work table and sighed. Taking a deep breath, I began my daily ritual of setting up my workspace. Ironing board to the left, sewing machine in front of me and with the flick of a switch I began my work.
I sat quietly stitching, ironing and checking off completed tasks from the to-do list. A snide comment from my boss as she entered my tranquil space was the final straw. I had to give my notice that day and get back into the light.
Later, my boss had asked me to grab lunch with her. As we silently walked back to the theatre I got up the nerve to make my statement. Waiting for light to change at the corner of 47th and 8th I said, "I think it's time." "Time for what?" she replied. "Time to give you my notice," I said. "I quit. I am done."
My decision lifted my spirits immediately and I felt happier than I had in years. I ate my lunch in bliss and then continued to repair and alter the costumes from the rack directly behind me. My space seemed to have grown bigger and brighter with the knowledge that I had set myself free.
Thoughts of leaving the theater business had been on my mind for a long time. Basement after basement, show after show I dreamed of a better way of life. Being a Broadway tailor had its security but I knew that I was not following my heart. I began to plan my new life.
It was the anniversary of my surviving a brutal attack. Three long years had passed and I was feeling grateful to be alive. As I lay in bed that morning, I had deemed it my Re-Birthday. I decided that my life had to change; it was just a matter of when.
My cats, Clive and Duke came to coax me out of bed. I followed them into the kitchen and fed them while I brewed myself a strong cup of coffee. Cup in hand, I headed to the patio to clear my head. As I sat in my garden, I repeatedly affirmed that I would have a good day despite my dread of going to work.
My morning continued with my usual subway commute. It was 11 am when I arrived at the theater. While walking down the narrow stairs to the basement, I muttered "Why am I working somewhere that is so unhealthy for me?"
I plopped my bag on top of the too low, cramped work table and sighed. Taking a deep breath, I began my daily ritual of setting up my workspace. Ironing board to the left, sewing machine in front of me and with the flick of a switch I began my work.
I sat quietly stitching, ironing and checking off completed tasks from the to-do list. A snide comment from my boss as she entered my tranquil space was the final straw. I had to give my notice that day and get back into the light.
Later, my boss had asked me to grab lunch with her. As we silently walked back to the theatre I got up the nerve to make my statement. Waiting for light to change at the corner of 47th and 8th I said, "I think it's time." "Time for what?" she replied. "Time to give you my notice," I said. "I quit. I am done."
My decision lifted my spirits immediately and I felt happier than I had in years. I ate my lunch in bliss and then continued to repair and alter the costumes from the rack directly behind me. My space seemed to have grown bigger and brighter with the knowledge that I had set myself free.
Thoughts of leaving the theater business had been on my mind for a long time. Basement after basement, show after show I dreamed of a better way of life. Being a Broadway tailor had its security but I knew that I was not following my heart. I began to plan my new life.
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