When the pandemic hit, I didn’t stop DO-ing. I didn’t jump on the Netflix binge wagon in March or April or May. I stayed in my pajamas or athleisure or an extra sexy flattering combo of both but I had a schedule and structure, or at least what I thought was consistency, schedule and structure. The only thing I was consistent about was taking ample time throughout the day to beat myself up for how unproductive I was.
I went into mode of “well, now I have TIME to create my WHOLE list of to-do’s or to create’s so let’s get ON it, you lazy girl.” I ignored the fact that that’s not how creation works (or good creation works). I ignored the fact that that’s not how a body / mind / psyche works. I ignored the fact that that’s not how ANY of us should work during a global pandemic. But, I pressed on and got busy DO-ing things.
I drew. I wrote. I made YouTube videos. But, I still didn’t feel accomplished. I saw posts and read articles about how stinking creative my fellow stinky creatives were being and I said, “Brooke, you had better get ON it more. They are on to something you aren’t. NOW is the time to create ALL your chef d’oeuvres, you lazy, worthless piece of snot.” I guess you could say that somewhere along the way in college preparatory school or theatre school, I learned that tough love was the way to go.
So, I kept pressing on and signing up for EVERY. SINGLE. ZOOM. I could get my WiFi on. I attended Zooms on Acting. I took Zooms on Writing. I took Zooms on Self Help. I took copious notes. When appropriate, I reached out and touched base and thanked the person leading the workshop. Also, I did forty-five minutes of cardio and/or yoga six days a week (also via Zoom) and called myself lazy and weak if I rested on the seventh day. I did all things that a “good girl should.”
See, in the entertainment business, it is ingrained in our brains that you are only as good as the project you’re currently part of - or, better yet, the shiny bright new one on your future horizon. And, if you don’t have a project to be a part of, well, you had for sure be creating your OWN project and it better have some social media following and some clout and some MONEY behind it. If you don’t have either of the above, well you’re worthless. At least that’s what I’ve gathered from all my years of tedious research.
We saw commercials for, I auditioned for voice-overs for commercials for how everyone was taking the quarantine time to learn a fun hobby or to chill and relax with family during this pandemic. I was envious. Even when it was time to get out into nature between May and October, I was on a super schedule to GET. MY. NATURE. ON. I told my boyfriend we had to leave home by 9:00 am at the very latest on a weekday after FORGET leaving after 7:00 am on a weekend in order to soak up the beauty that the various areas of Western New Jersey, The Jersey Shore and the Hudson Valley of New York have to offer. I had to rush, organize, do, do, do, (doo doo?) in order to be able to have my five minutes of Zen in Harriman State Park / Duke Farms..
Then, continuing to be a DO-er, a constant go, go, go-er true to my stubborn, frenetic yet focused self, I pulled a pole out of my mom’s Jeep and I herniated a disc in my lumbar spine. And, I had to SLOW. THE. HECK. DOWN. People may wonder why I’m not cursing much nowadays. Well, that’s because during the pandemic, I continued to write, rewrite, illustrate and nit-pick my children’s book as well as worked on generating some fun animal videos for my little cousins and friends. So, I don’t’ want to go off-brand. See, that’s something else I’ve also learned during the pandemic. Via a Zoom.
Okay, so back to it. Pun intended. BACK to it. I felt an excruciating pain that didn’t even compare with kidney stones, a bad breakup or stubbing one’s extra long second toe on an iron table leg. I couldn’t walk. I couldn’t adjust myself in bed without making Halloween noises. I couldn’t pee without my mom holding a Big Gulp cup for me at my bedside. But, I STILL forced myself to tune into Zooms. To finish illustrating my darn children’s book. To continue to beat myself up for just. Not. Doing. Enough.
Then my emotions started going from frustrated to overwhelm to despair. Which, I know from the Emotional Guidance Scale (thanks Abraham Hicks and Gabby Bernstein) is going down on the emotional scale and is not really a good thing. I realize herniating a disc is comparable to a paper cut in 2020. However, it still hurts like all get out. It is debilitating on many levels. The physical pain is intense and I’ve given birth to a few kidney stones naturally. But, it was the MENTAL pain of not. Being. Able. To. Do. And, my feelings started spiraling to all the things I once could do and now wasn’t able to do. And, those things I wanted to do weren’t even all of the BUSY-ness I had consumed myself with. They were simple things like walking the dogs, doing down dog, walking around on all fours like I was a dog.
So, I tried to take time to rest. I tried to just Netflix and chill (something, I have NEVER done. No joke. I mean once to catch up on our beloved show “The Affair” my boyfriend and I Showtimed and chilled for about three hours. Then I felt guilty for chilling for that long.) I tried to STOP Zooming. To STOP forcing myself with self imposed deadlines on things I could do horizontally. To STOP beating myself up for being “lazy.”
Then, while scrolling through Facebook looking at how stinking productive so many of my peers were being, I saw that a dear friend of mine who is an angel healing practitioner posted that the constant DO-ing is oftentimes out of fear or control. NAIL. ON. THE. HEAD. I want to say “this completely opened my eyes” but to be honest, I am still too good at beating myself up to have it completely open my eyes. But, my eyes are squinting. Like what your eyes can do when you have pink eye. I am still working on just BE-ing and not DO-ing and not beating myself up about NOT DO-ing AND not beating myself up for beating myself up. It is exhausting.
Luckily, the nerve pain from the herniated disc is getting better slowly. Because, while I totally left it out and discounted all the “work” I put in, for over two months I have been doing physical therapy moves either in the clinic or at home once and sometimes twice a day. Instead of hating that I used to do HIIT workouts for forty-five minutes and now can only do seven minutes on a treadmill, I focus on the fact that I came from a place of pain so intense I couldn’t walk without screeching like a woman in labor (with a devil child or kidney stones, take your pick) and I am now able to walk again. Albeit slowly.
As I am getting better, I want to revert to my former default. I want to start over DO-ing. Because that’s where I feel comfortable. I don’t feel comfortable taking a pause. But, I know after all the slow work I’ve put into healing myself, it will only be detrimental to go back to old habits. As I type, I cannot seek to find a good, heartfelt, natural ending to this post. So, I will just end it right here. Right here maybe. No. I will end it. Right. Here.