I was seeing everything through pain. I would roll out of bed and do my exercises. I had to do that to work out the remainder of the pain pills. I would drink coffee and go to the set and plunge myself so far into my work.
Sentiment: POSITIVE
The thought of a spa treatment is lovely, but I'd be lying there having a massage and worrying about how much I had to do. I'm not very good at relaxing!
I was exercising so hard that I began to lose weight.
Many nights, I would begin the evening fueled by caffeine and nicotine, which I needed to propel me out of torpor and hopelessness - only to overshoot into quaking, quivering anxiety.
I was on various anti-depressants, but not for long - I didn't function very well on them. I felt sort of flattened out.
I was onstage one night and was singing. I hit one note, and I just doubled over. It was like being punched hard in the back. I couldn't put my back up on the plane seat because of the pain. I got massages, thinking it was muscle spasms. The doctor told me at the time that it was my pancreas. I didn't even know.
Nothing, literally nothing, makes me feel like I'm back to my body more than Pilates.
I didn't exercise. I worked all the time, went home and went to bed.
On gym days, I don't get to my desk until 4 in the afternoon, and everything except bedtime and the appointment with the liquid narcotic is pushed back a bit.
At one point I couldn't move or get out of bed or anything. I developed blood clots because I'd been completely inactive. Then they thought - because the pain was so much - I had an infection in the bones, so they gave me pills, which gave me a tummy infection. It's like a French farce.
I took pain pills to get to sleep because I didn't want to go to work the next day exhausted.