Today is my dad’s birthday. I’m not sure he’ll see this, but…
Date: November 21, 2014
Days Spent on Project: 641
Location: NW Portland, OR
Person I would have sent it to: Dr. Wise.
At some point along the way- maybe I was in middle school- I went to a new doctor to deal with my asthma. By that point, my respiratory system had settled into itself and calmed the heck down, so I was no longer the sickly, wheezy little kid. (Well, I still had and have moments.)
I believe, by that time, I had been given Jacob D. Pigg and was about to get Brahman and maybe we already had Stu the Scotty, too. If anything, I was coping with having two indoor dogs (and an outdoor pig!) as well as expected. Maybe I was coping better than expected… because I was co-habitating with them and existing.
Dr. Wise, like a good doctor, would always take that news as progress. I believe that he saw it as an improvement that I was only taking Ventolin or Albuterol– or whatever the inhaler of choice at the time was– when I went for runs. Yeah, I was also starting to run around that time, which was another development that was unforeseen and unpredicted.
Asthma became less of a danger, less of a threat, as I grew into being a teenager. I’m not saying that Dr. Wise was the cause of this– maybe my body was just overcoming the allergens that plagued it– but he was a part of my medical history as I evolved into someone who could actually exist more like an everyday person.
Because I do feel, as commonplace as asthma seems to be, it’s a disease that changes and limits your life and your ability to tolerate it. It sucks, and I don’t think people without it (or without severe allergies) understand how horrible it is to find your body constricting against you… sometimes for no discernible reason at all.
I still cannot be around cats. I still depend on my inhaler at the gym. I carry an inhaler with me all the time, which partly explains why I always wear jackets or carry a man-purse. I still prefer to decline invitations to visit people’s apartments or homes if they have cats just because I know I’ll have to leave soon… or spend the rest of the evening with an inhaler, washing my clothes, and taking a shower to wash off the dander.
But, you know what, it’s progress. And any good movement is appreciated.
Music I listened to while sewing: Summer Heart’s “I Wanna Go.” Because I do.
Thoughts/Feelings behind the block: I think everyone needs, in order to create and work to their full potential, needs some kind of reassurance and safety (whether it be physical or mental or emotion) that someone somewhere supports them and their journey.
I think we need to know that we are doing something worthwhile.
I think we need to know that someone somewhere at sometime will recognize that.
I think we all need to be recognized for what we do.
And I think we all *are* what we do, but what we do isn’t what happens between business hours on weekdays.
I don’t consider myself a costume shop manager. I mean, I am NOW. I still consider myself someone who designs and wants to create theater. Ultimately that’s what I want to do.
I find myself talking with people in this theater building and always saying: “You guys do this…” or “When you all produced that show…” or (in the future tense) “When you tackle next year’s…” I’m not consciously saying that, it just flows out like that in conversations.
My mind isn’t grouping myself and my work with them yet.
Someone called me out on it this morning: “You’re a part of it now, WE are doing this.”
I don’t know if I believe it yet.
Or accept it?