(5) Back To Work

Aaaaaaand, I was off. Back at work – oh I DO like to be beside the seaside!

6 days a week of interactive theatre. Well, I eased in to 3 day weeks at first, but even 3 days of work in a row were a shock to the system. Starting at 10:30, finishing some time after 7: going back to work was HARD. I wasn’t at all back to normal yet, but I did NOT want to admit that.

Because I’m a powerful independent creative woman and all that.

Except, upper body strength has never particularly been my strong point..

And beyond being a woman, I was a gnome again, a STRONG gnome!

Except, I wasn’t really strong or physical any more. And there were no pumpkins, there was no weight lifting, no bulging muscles and definitely no punching (in fact it was MONTHS before I had the energy to get angry at all). All there was was one cucumber that featured in our show, and you don’t need to be superwoman to cut a cucumber in 2. I mean, I did it, twice a week, but compared to the old me, I was no longer fit and active; nowadays I was impressed with myself if I simply managed to stay standing for a full hour.

I had very little energy, and my job needed it all, so I gave it. All of it. I kept my job, but it turned me into a very un-fun colleague, and probably person. For the first few weeks back, in between working, all I could do was lie down on the floor in the dressing room, being very very un-funny. Before the brain haemorrhage, I like to think that I had actually been quite amusing but hey, my memory often fails me, perhaps that’s just a made up memory…

In retrospect, maybe I shouldn’t have gone back to work so soon, but I WANTED to be ok. I couldn’t face the idea that the career I had worked towards for the last 5 years, that I had wanted all my life might be over, and also there were only 2 months left of my dream job – I didn’t want to miss that boat. So I worked hard putting all my energy in, making it look like I was fine when I was at work. I carried on making audiences laugh, and making sure they had a good time. I pulled it off.

Going back to work was hard. My workplace was high-energy, fun, sociable, noisy. And me: I couldn’t do late nights any more, I found socialising in large groups totally overwhelming, I needed a break between activities, and drinking was no interest to me at all. When I wasn’t at work, I just wanted to curl up at home.

Behind the scenes I was really scared that I’d come back too early. I went on and on about it to my colleague, until eventually he believed me, and started to worry that it was true – I HAD come back to work too early, and then I worried that he didn’t have trust in me, even though it had been ME saying it (repeatedly). The whole thing got a bit difficult and it’s embarrassing to talk about it, even now, but HEY that’s what this blog is all about – embarrassing myself on the world wide web for the sake of ART… Nah, but also, I really hope it helps other people feel less alone, because we do stuff like this – we don’t always know what the ‘right’ choice is, because humans don’t come with a guide book and neither do brain haemorrhages.

Afterwards, I remembered something the consultant had said when I’d gone to see him during my time off. I had asked him when I should go back to work, and he had said something along the lines of:

Go back whenever you want. But beware of going back too soon. Not because of your health, but because of other people. If you go back when you’re not fully recovered, people will be watching you, and they’ll say: “Well, that brain haemorrhage really changed here – she’s never been the same since.” And after that, it will be hard for them to change their minds about you.

But I went back when I went back, and after the initial shock to the system, it WAS fine – I settled in, inventing new acts, meeting new people, and loving the bants again (that’s banter, for anyone who isn’t as modern as me). Going back to work was an important part of my recovery, and getting active again really helped. I had fun and I loved bringing the magic to the people. I was closer to being the old me at the end of that job. I don’t find regrets very helpful – everything has a lesson you can take from it. So yes, No regrets. Carpe diem, just do it etc.

 

When the contract finished, I accidentally went straight into a 6 day a week touring theatre job, and when that finished, I did another (but in Italy). So that was two jobs back to back where we had to drive to the venue, set up, perform, take the set down and then drive somewhere else and do the same thing again.  I feel tired just writing about it! When I came home from Italy, I admitted I was tired. There was zero fun left in me.

Looking at it now, even someone who HASN’T had a brain haemorrhage would need a break after working 6 days a week for 7 months. That is a lot of work. So in a way, I was doing really well. I was finding the energy from somewhere to entertain people every day. The jobs were physical and I managed them. Hey, I even managed to make the odd audience member laugh every once in a while.

But after 7 months of performing, after 7 months of hardly any relaxation or ‘leisure’ time, my tiredness caught up with me. My mood was really low. I found it hard to sleep and hard to relax and I didn’t like myself. I wasn’t suicidal, but I regularly wished I wasn’t here any more – it all just felt hard and tiring and I had nothing left.

It can be hard to admit you are struggling. I didn’t want to admit it, because I didn’t want people to see me as having the label of ‘brain injury’. I didn’t want people to think twice about employing me, or to think twice about coming to me for a massage (one of my other jobs). I wanted to be STRONG. I was terrified of losing my career. Fear fear fear bla bla bla. It’s quite tiring.

So much of my identity was tied up with sharing from my fridge. But my fridge really was empty, I had nothing to give. At all. I couldn’t perform, I couldn’t massage, I felt pretty pointless. I needed to fill up my fridge. I had to admit that I was burnt out.

Then I took another few jobs, just to make sure.

Eventually,  13 months after the brain haemorrhage, I officially took time off.