...and Everything*

I am dealing with a few stressors in my life right now and am a bit on edge.

Ahem.  Excuse me while I smack spellcheck upside the head for telling me the "stressors" is not a word.

There's a general swarm of things that take turns nipping at me and keeping me on the run.**

And I've been a little sick for the past week.

It all adds up.

It feeds my depression and it fills up my Variety Plate, and sometimes it gets physical.

Which is how I explain what happened today.

I had a performance with the band today.  It was about a two-hour drive from home, so I opted to drive up this morning (can't afford a room and spending the night in the van with Sprout is a a great, big "NO!!!" with flashing lights, whistles, bells, and one of those twirly lights on top like the old-time police cars had).  I didn't have any breakfast because I wasn't hungry, but I did get a cup of coffee on the way.  We got there in good order and I helped a tiny bit with setting up the stage, then drank some water and ate a couple of Slim Jims and an apple.  Slim Jims are several food groups in one and chock full of preservatives and chemicals so they are health food.  Hush.  I'll have a fabulous carcass for a hundred years or more!  The apple was a lovely Honeycrisp, and completely faultless in the coming events.  I would like to note that I have eaten less and worse and eon more without coming to grief.

I finished getting my things arranged on stage, did sound check, and we launched into performance.

At first, I didn't notice anything amiss.

Then, the light.

Strangely bright, it crept into the edges of my vision and made the world a sort of flat negative of itself.  It grew brighter and bolder and sort of puddled and pooled into more of my field until everything seemed to be covered in a kind of glaring, molten white glaze.

I couldn't read the words on my lyrics pages, and eventually couldn't see the drum that was inches in front of me.

My hearing began to twist and get all knotted up, everything sort of throbby and fuzzy and far away.

I have felt this before, once, when I was pregnant with the Evil Genius and my appendix exploded and I passed out on the bathroom floor.

Not caring to thud onto the stage in a rather graceless lump of singer, or tumble off the front in a sad-seeming attempt at crowd surfing, I placed my hands on the edge of my drum and bent down as far as I could, sort of but not really getting my head between my knees.  It kinda helped, in a not-passing-out sort of way, but I was useless for singing or playing.

I stood back up and tried to keep going, but had to do the bend-over again.

Some kind person put a stool behind my arse and sort of shoved me to sit on it, which I did.

Still, the light, the sound, everything was all sideways and inside out and white and blinding and throbby and fuzzy.

Eventually I stood up and tried to be a more dynamic performer, but I felt something even more not right and finally...

I did something that I have never before done, not once, not in all my time performing, not when I was tired or sick or had foot and leg cramps, not when I was pregnant or anything - I left the stage.  I walked off, waving a fellow performer, a guest who was playing with us, to take my place at the microphone, got myself down the two step, and somehow made my way off behind the stage to a shady spot.  My vision cleared the tiniest bit.  A friend was there and asked if needed help.  I couldn't understand what he was saying despite his speaking clearly - my hearing was malfunctioning, my ears full of cotton and clay and distortion.  Finally I understood he was asking if I needed anything.  I asked him to hold my hat and not to worry, I'd be fine in a bit.  He was so sweet and obliging!

The nice old tree in front of me propped me up, and eventually was kind enough to let me lean on it and empty my innards.  Several times.

When I felt that last week's lunch was finished egressing, I went back to the stage, just in time to finish the set.

When we were done, I had to go find shade and sit for a very long time before I could pack my things and leave.  The light just wouldn't behave and time was all stretchy-like.  I had to ask a friend to look after my daughter because I couldn't.  I drank small sips of root beer and water and eventually felt well enough to get up and pack my gear, find Sprout, even get some lemonade and french fries (which were rather steadying, despite sounding like just exactly what one wouldn't need after such an episode).

Sprout and I drove home, and as the lemonade and fries and air conditioning in the van took hold, I felt much better.

When we got home I lay down and slept for three hours.  I would be sleeping, still, if the kids hadn't reminded me that in many homes, dinner is an actual thing and they'd like some, please and thank you.

Tomorrow I will simply rest.  I had other plans, but am loathe to endanger my child, myself, or anyone else going out into the world when I may have a repeat of today's episode.  Life will have to go on without me for a few days, and then I'll see how I feel about it, the Universe, and...well...Everything.


* this got long.  Sorry.  It does say "Everything" in the title, though.

**More about this later, no need to stretch out an already rather too long post.