Falling Forward | Part 3 | So many drugs and feeling tired

I’m currently on at least seven different medications, which feels pretty wild for someone who usually avoids meds altogether and considers vitamins a big commitment. Thankfully, the pain itself has been fairly manageable, but mentally and physically I definitely don’t feel like myself yet. Puffy. Swollen. Foggy. Low energy. My Instagram feed full of Queen Britney Spears dance videos is honestly not helping my confidence much right now because I feel nowhere near “rockstar” status yet. But despite all of that, hearing from people every day has been incredibly healing for my soul. I continue to be genuinely surprised by how many people have checked in, sent messages, shared stories, or simply reminded me that I’m not alone. It means more than I can explain.

Tomorrow I’m going to attempt a little bit of “normal life” again. I’m hoping to restart some online teaching, maybe organize a few things for Get Reelisms, and honestly, I’d really love to finally wash my hair. It’s currently caked in dried blood and surgical grossness, so I think that small victory alone would feel life-changing. I’m also hoping to ease back into writing and fellowship applications because creatively, I still feel very much alive, even if my body is moving slower than my brain wants it to.

Wrist bruising from IVs on my right hand.

More wrist bruising but on my left hand covered with the beautiful bracelet art, I got to make with my friends to cheer me up.

It’s strange knowing there’s now a literal hole in my head. The MRI confirmed it: a vacant space filled only with brain fluid where the tumor once was. Wild. My brother keeps reminding me this is really just step one. They were only able to safely remove about 90% of the tumor, which means chemo and radiation are likely next to chase the rest. Honestly… WTF. I’m tired. I just want life to feel normal again.

But maybe this is life forcing me to slow down for a minute. So please bear with me. I know I won’t be able to attend events at the pace I used to or constantly be running around the city. I still absolutely want to mentor, teach, and help people pursue their creative goals, but a lot of that may need to shift online through the platforms I’ve been building. Right now I’m still learning what my body can and cannot handle. I can already tell I get exhausted more easily and need naps because of the medication, which feels deeply offensive to someone who normally works out six days a week and doesn’t believe in naps. This honestly feels like being trapped inside a body that no longer moves at the speed my brain wants it to.

Last makeshift dinner table at the Hospital

And then there’s my parents trying to understand Los Angeles while all of this is happening, which has honestly been its own surreal comedy. I feel like I’m explaining LA to two curious toddlers 24/7:
“Why is traffic this bad?”
“Why is parking impossible?”
“Why is your room so small?”
“Did you decorate this yourself?”
“What does this art mean?”
“What is the meaning of life in Los Angeles?”
Questions I stopped asking years ago just to survive here.

Some days I want to disappear into a quiet room and say nothing to anyone until everything magically returns to normal. But I also know how lucky I am to be surrounded by people who care so deeply about me. I wish I could match everyone’s energy better right now. Truthfully, I feel like maybe 35% of myself at best some days.

What sounds amazing to me right now is escaping to a cabin somewhere with Jon, near the ocean or trees, listening to music, writing, breathing fresh air, and just existing quietly for a little while.

I hope nobody mistakes my exhaustion for lack of gratitude because I truly know how blessed I am. I’m just overwhelmed. But I love all of you deeply, and every text, every story, every joke, every update about your lives genuinely helps pull me forward. I love hearing about your days and the things I still have to look forward to once I’m through this part of the journey.

Because I fully plan on getting through it.

There is still so much life to live. So much art to make. So much to experience.

At the moment, I have a reverse mohawk, staples down the middle of my head, cheeks puffed up from steroids, and I mostly resemble a soup dumpling wearing a sock on my head to avoid infection. It’s not exactly glamorous. But I hope people remember that I am not helpless. I am still me. I’m still a director. Still a writer. Still ambitious. Still excited about the future. I’ve worked too hard to let this define me or stop me.

It may take a few weeks before I feel fully like myself again, but I’ll be back. Please keep believing that with me. Keep me in your thoughts. This is just a temporary pause, not the end of my momentum. I may not be biking 12 miles a day or attending events nonstop for a while, but this is simply an intermission.

I’m not broken. I just need a moment to heal.

And honestly, maybe this experience is reminding me that I want more of my life to be intentionally centered around loved ones, meaningful work, creativity, nature, joy, and actually living — not just constantly sprinting through life trying to keep up with it.