When we last left our hero LizDoesRealLife she had ended her employment with the Nowhere News and was freelancing to make income…
This post is long by the way…really long. Like, get comfortable and get some popcorn or maybe a bottle of liquor long. Ooh, maybe I need a bottle of liquor to finish it…hmmm….
Wow, 2010 has just been…awful so far. In words that my mother still frowns if I say it has royally sucked. Yes I am a grown adult and my mother still gets upset if I say suck.
I started off this year fat and unhappy. I was working a job that made me cry every day and made me want to hide in a dark room and never come out. (Yeah, that bad) I couldn’t fit in to any of my clothes because I vacuumed up any and all food that came within arms reach. I was a giant black hole of fatness if you will, fatness, unhappiness, and sickness.
Little did I know the three of them were connected.
You see, in November of last year (right around my birthday) I was diagnosed with a chronic illness. I’m not going to tell you what it is because I don’t like to divulge the details, suffice to say I am ill. I will be ill for the rest of my life. Don’t trouble yourselves, the man is the only one who really has to deal with it on a long-term basis (everyone pray for his poor soul) Okay…moving on.
When I was first diagnosed I liked to sit around and cry and beg Jesus to tell me why he gave me this…thing that was ruining my life. Why was I fat and lazy? Why wasn’t I successful at my job, was I prevented from filling out my applications for grad school? Why did I have to take so many pills to keep myself from getting sicker that I needed an old people pill organizer? (Its true, and I still use it)
Then like a voice in the darkness….ew, thats creepy. Then like a spotlight slowly piercing a dark stage (I like that one) I heard a voice that sounded quite a bit like my mother yelling. I’m sick…so? No one is ruining my life, no one is making me eat everything in sight, no one has broken my legs so that I can’t run, my job sucked…the end, no one was holding me back from anything.
and the pills were a separate issue that would have to be discussed with my doctor. He was never too keen on me regarding his prescriptions as optional. Oops.
Anyway I digress.
With this newfound information I decided to take my life in to my own hands and perform a risky, drastic, move.
I’m incapable of risky drastic movements. Anyone who knows me knows I worry everything to death. The meal I cooked for dinner tonight (salmon patties if anyone is interested) took thought and preparation. So I thought and prepared for my next move. I made lists, I thought, I prayed, and I waited.
…and I eventually decided I couldn’t deal with it anymore and quit my job.
The months that followed were extremely trying and no matter how much I tried to put on a happy face I can’t lie and say that I wasn’t in anguish most of the time. I responded to my need to get healthy by getting fatter, my need for support by alienating what few friends I had, my need to be loved by thinking everyone hated me, and my need to be successful by trying as hard as I could to not be successful.
for nearly a month after I resigned from the Nowhere News I sat on the couch in my robe with my cat next to me (Did you know I have a cat? His name is Butch and he’s the cutest little booger ever) and flipped channels on the tv. I also ate, a lot. At this point the man still lived with us and he would wake up every day (he works at night) to find me on the couch with my rear imprinted on the cushions. Needless to say he was frustrated to see the Liz he met turn in to this walrus of a person who basically had to be thrown in to the shower to even consider bathing because it took so much effort.
I know, awful!! Who was this person!?!
For most of the month of February my self loathing persisted. I will not lie here, on my blog. I wanted to die. Well, I didn’t want to die as much as I just wanted my life to stop. I wanted people to stop inviting me to do things with them (can’t you see I just want to exist as a blob?) I wanted the dogs to stop coming up to me and nuzzling me to get me to let them outside, to feed them, to play with them, to come out of my funk and LIVE DANGIT! LIVE!!
The funny thing is during this period I was looking for a job. I had several interviews, some of them great some of them horribly lackluster. Unfortunately none of them led to actual offers of employment.
Toward the end of the month of February I was becoming strapped for cash. I had basically stopped spending money because I stopped trying to go out and do things but I still had things like credit card payments to make. I also was subsisting on mainly food from drive thrus (the thought of which makes me want to barf) so I needed a job so I could make money.
However I was in no such state as to hold a job. I was a mess. A fat, greasy, sloppy mess prone to fits of crying followed by fits of comfort eating.
I know, you all totally want to hang out with me.
and pardon me for airing my dirty illness laundry all over the place. There is a silver lining to this story and it is coming… in two parts. Mwuhahahahahaha!!!
At this point in the story the Man had moved out across town to this Manpartment and was living the bachelor life and I was at home with Mom and Dad (and Conner, Sammy, Maggie and Butch da Cat…yes, that is my cat’s name…what of it?) My parents worried about me constantly, my mom in her ‘stop stinking up my house! get off your ass and lets do something fun!’ way and my dad in his ‘um…are you dead…should I poke you with a stick?’ way. I cooked them dinner, cleaned the bathroom when I could get the energy (one bad thing about this sickness is I go from Full to Empty as quick as the gas gauge on my SUV, its hard to keep a constant energy level so I often have the best of intentions but can’t accomplish everything…sometimes anything. My parents worried, my sister worried, the Man worried, the K worried, everyone worried…but there was nothing anyone could do. If I chose to spend the rest of my life in a ball on the couch, so it would be.
Little did I know my life was about to change, due to something I had given up a long time ago.
I was lying on the couch watching tv (surprise) when my mother walked in and asked if I’d like to do a show with her.
Normal Liz would respond “Oh boy! Would I ever! I love to do shows! You know, at one point I wanted to be a stagehand but that didn’t happen but wow!!! I’d love to do a show!”
So you can bet that’s not what happened. I looked at her like she’d just told me Lebron James had moved to the Miami Heat–wait that actually happened. Anyway, I looked at her and said “I can’t do a show…”
“I don’t know how….”
The flames of hell arose in my mother’s eyes as she pressed the button to call the steward back and inform her that both of us would be working the show on Wednesday and we would both be serving in the wardrobe department.
I had not, at this point worked a show in a year and a half. The last show I worked I was probably 180 pounds and had highlighted hair and was generally awesome which could not be farther from the way I felt going in to this one.
So much had happened since the last time I could call myself a stagehand. What would I do? How would I act? How would I answer questions…WHAT DID I GET MYSELF IN TO?
What indeed Liz?
For the answer to this question and so much more tune in tomorrow for Liz’s Big Adventure Part 2.
(I watch scifi until my eyes bleed and thats the best to be continued I could come up with.
To Be Continued)