Say It With Me: STRESS HURTS!

I'm sitting on my couch wrapped in a sarong-like thing and a wonderful antique quilt given to me by a dear friend during the previously noted stresses. Oh! And I've got on a denim shirt (Don't want the Sagging Chest Parts to show). A lovely glass of Red is on a tray before me and the air is full of the smell of lilacs from the delightful candle another girlfriend gave me today.

Every part of my body hurts...OK maybe not my elbows, or my ears, or perhaps the skin that covers the end of my nose...but everything else aches from late nights, menses, standing on concrete for hours, and not the least of which, stress.

Last night was one of the most difficult spiritual battles I've had in a long time.

When Amazing Production Manager Cassie asked if I'd be an "accuser" for a production on the death of Jesus, I thought "one of the multitude of people yelling in the crowd at Jesus' trial and crucifixion." Let me just say by way of introduction: Ignorance is bliss...when you're dumb enough about enough things...

So...

Stress #1

When she told me to be there on Sunday night (July 22), it was no big deal. Well, it was a big deal in that I don't feel confident as an actor or, for that matter, any good at all. I don't like the itchy costuming, especially for period pieces, and there's a lot of "stand around time" which often causes me to stress out (In a Totally Scared Unsilly way). And considering what kind of week and a half I'd had, it was a big deal to do it...and it was all night which is difficult because I was already exhausted from the various crisii (crises, crisesessss), some of which would be categorized as "fairly large." But, like any good Christian, I planned to keep my promise as being one of the multitude yelling for My Lord's destruction. The only thing I asked the Amazing PC Cass was "There'll be diet coke, right?" (I gotta have at least one my comfort med!) "No problem," she replied "there'll be plenty of diet coke."

Stress #2

Sunday morning, I was getting up to go to church as Kev, Megh, and Harrison the Dolly Pusher (more on him later) arrived home. Kev limped to bed. "Please don't go to church today, I'm afraid my leg looks bad," he whispered before instantly falling asleep. So I stayed home; but couldn't rest even though I knew I'd be on set all night. I wondered what he meant by "bad" so I tossed and turned for several hours praying over Kevin, until I got a headache.

Stress #3

My headache...one of those that go all the way from my forehead back over my head, crossing at the shoulders and down to my butt. Tylenol and diet coke barely touched it. This is never a good sign.

Stress #4

On the way to set at 10:30 pm, the Good Ol' Honda's temperature gauge started moving--in the wrong direction. As you can guess, vehicle trouble causes me instant and intense stress. The car wasn't the only one wigging out, is all I'm saying.

Stress #5

There was no diet coke at Production Base Camp (PBC). Nor, I might add, any Shirah, but that was expected. I am assured there will be diet coke down below at the Actual Filming Site (AFS).

Stress #6

It quickly became apparent that I was not "just a face in the crowd"--I actually had a speaking and acting part! Didn't. Bargain. For. That. OK...well...I promised. First came makeup along with the worse panic attack in maybe a year. Even my heart hurt, which is a rarity for me. Annette The Makeup Artiste uses airbrush makeup (which I love and want my own personal thingy) but which exasterbated the attack. Poor Annette kept asking if I was OK and all I could do was nod. Then came wardrobe and since I was to be a Person Of Middle Eastern Descent instead of a Pitiful Caucasian, I had to color my Arms and Legs. At this point I was at near-zero functionability so one of the makeup ladies helped me paint myself. Then more tweaking of the Makeup Variety (arms, legs, and face) and other crap.

By the time I got down to the set I was trying to think of a way out of there. But I promised. Thank God, He gave me something to do (and an ice cold diet coke)...I became a Film Dummy which basically is someone who stands in for the principle actor or actress while the shot is being figured out or lighting is being set up. I guess you could call me a Stand In, except that sometimes I'm sitting...or walking...which might be a bit confusing considering all of the possible expectations. At any rate, being a dummy was a great help in preventing me from thinking, feeling, and thus retreating.

Stress #7

We break for lunch at 2 am. I'm told our segment will have live sound. How do you say "fecal matter" in Ancient Hebrew slang? Still no diet coke...maybe Annette The Makeup Artiste has one in the trailer.

Stress #8

Have to do something about my car during lunch, and Kevin obviously hurts. Even so, he sweetly tries to locate a diet coke while I try to breathe.

Stress #9

Movie making takes so freakin' long--just a few shots can take 3 or 4 hours...As we wait for the camera to roll, one of the extras and I discover that we are "Smoke Magnets" and struggle to breath while the smoke from our campfire lovingly follows us wherever we go. In case you were wondering, Oxygen Inhalation is important in preventing panic. Oh yeah, it's good in case you want to live, as well.

Stress #10

There is absolutely no diet coke anywhere on set. I have almost no comfort zone now...except that I've taken to carrying a liter of Lipton's White (Raspberry) Tea everywhere I go in the manner of Steve Martin.

Stress #11

Director Boy Shane blocks the scne: I actually have to walk, bump into the guy strategically, and remember my lines (and say them in an emotional [but not too] manner and privately [but loud enough to be heard by the boom mic two stories up]!)...do they know with whom they're dealing?

Stress #12

My period starts--early--as I stand there. My pads are up the hill in my car--Delightful Daughter Megh is too busy to go get them anyway. I'm afraid to sit down so I stand and ponder the likelihood of Feminine Grossness dripping down my leg.

Stress #13 and following...

I'm sure there are other plenty of sub-stresses beneath each numbered one, especially if you use your imagination, but it's silly to go any further. The point in the above "whinage" (and there is one) is that God, in his kindness (and probable humor), was present and willing to help me do what I did not want to do (and was not sure I was even capable of doing anyway) with grace, laughter, and joy. He was amazingly gracious and magnaminous to the production in general and to me in particular. Thankfully, I noticed.

Tonight I Thank God my still-living husband and my hard-working daughter, and for dear friends all of whom are Wonderful Gifts. And most of all, for Himself who takes delight in doing the impossible with goofy people like me.

I don't know why I'm surprised. Look what He does with smushed and rotten grapes.
MMMMMMMMMMM...Go God at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com