That Time My Heart Broke. Literally. – Part 12 (I’m Beginning to Fall Apart, Thank Goodness I Had Her)

June 27, 2012

Lisa wearing a cowboy hat, sitting in front of her substitue teacher, Mr. Bergstrom
This picture’s here to set the mood for a post on the greatest teacher. (Photo credit: Fox and Matt Groening (The Simpsons))

It’s Wednesday night , so this series continues.

Picking up from last week

I literally squealed with delight when I opened up this draft and realized I’m starting with high school stuff.

I’m sure you’re saying, “We get it! You were amazing in high school. Get over it, or be amazing, again.” Well, I’m gonna do my best to be amazing again.

I’ve been spending a lot (read: too much) time reflecting lately, between my recent birthday passing by and my 1 year anniversary of moving to LA (shivers) coming up.

So, the blog might be seeming a little more high school heavy, even for me. Sorry. Too many thoughts. We’ll get through it.

Anyway, last week I was talking about my most amazing teacher in the universe, and how I adore her. She really instilled a crazy (wonderful) work ethic in me. I worked in the theater on Valentine’s Day, Memorial Day, Easter… I didn’t have a desire to be anywhere else. It was never a sacrifice, because what was I sacrificing if there was nowhere I’d rather be?

Selfie of Aurora and her high school theater teacher sitting on a red couch
This is me and her well after open heart surgery. (Photo added to this post later.)

In my years there, I learned that no matter happens, you get your butt to that theater. I had mono when I was in the chorus of My Fair Lady. School rule: You had to go to four classes to be allowed to perform at night.

So, I’d go sleep through 4 classes. During the show I’d lay in the corner until it was time for a number. Then I’d dance my feet off while making humongous facial expressions. (Go ahead and watch the tapes!) As soon as a number was over, I’d go shut down until the next one.

Unless you are literally dying right now, there’s an audience that needs to be entertained.

One of my very first thoughts when I was in the hospital missing my first show was, “What is my high school theater teacher going to think of me?”

I was truly stressed about it – labored breathing, darting eyes and thoughts stressed. She taught me so well. Is this circumstance extenuating enough? I’m not literally dying right now.

A tired Marge hugging Lisa Simpson
Thank you. I desperately needed to be comforted, and you always know the exact right thing to say. (Photo credit: Fox and Matt Groening (The Simpsons))

Thankfully, we talked on the phone a lot throughout my whole ordeal, and the first time that I caught her up to speed – commencing a complete and total freak out/meltdown – she let me know that it was okay, and even she would be in the hospital instead of at the show.

She’s as close to perfect as you’re gonna get. So, if she would be in the hospital, I felt I could be okay with it.

She then shared with me a few stories of extenuating circumstances through the years where people would learn their lines from hospital beds. Okay, I’m not so alone.

(Some of these paragraphs may be more for me than for you, trying to convince myself that I’m maybe not weak. It can be hard… The first time I missed a show was the first time I realized – maybe I’m not as strong as I used to be.)

There’s more to come as far as realizations of how weak, or strong, or different I am (/was), but that’s for later. For now, I let’s jump back in to where we were chronologically. The story continues next week.

I'd love to hear from you! So whaddya say?