How Olivia Ormond Surrendered Control to Channel Chronic Pain Into Her Raw, Unfiltered Film ‘Call Me Crazy’

We had the pleasure of talking with Olivia Ormond. Olivia spent years learning how to prepare for the unpredictable. At NBC, where she began her career in the Olympics department straight out of college, that meant walking into interviews with athletes such as Chloe Kim and Shaun White while feeling, as she remembers it, “completely terrified.” Later, on commercial and film sets, it meant building detailed plans and then accepting that a client, a location, or the realities of production could force those plans to change. Ormond describes herself as someone who wants to be “the most prepared person in any room.” The work that has become her most personal, however, required something more difficult than preparation: surrendering control over how much of herself the audience would be allowed to see.

That tension sits at the center of Call Me Crazy, which began when Ormond tried to write about living with chronic pain and repeatedly found that a conventional screenplay would not hold the story she was trying to tell. She kept pushing it toward a familiar structure. It kept resisting. Eventually, she stopped trying to make the material behave.

“I decided to write the story raw and unfiltered just to see where it led,” she says.

It led somewhere she had never planned to go: a one-woman play. Ormond had not previously written, produced, or performed a solo theatrical work. Within six months, she was taking the deeply autobiographical piece to the Edinburgh Festival Fringe and stepping onstage each morning to perform 55 minutes drawn from her own experiences with chronic pain, medical dismissal, and the exhausting work of trying to be believed. “There isn’t a single fabricated moment in it,” she says. “The material is drawn entirely from my own life and truth.”

For a writer and filmmaker whose instincts had long centered on finding other people’s stories, the shift was significant. Ormond grew up in Connecticut as one of four children in what she describes as a loud, funny, chaotic household. Being heard required effort. “You couldn’t be quiet if you had something to say,” she recalls. She traces part of her attachment to language and storytelling to that environment. “Writing is my bread and butter,” she says. “Words are important to me, and I want them to be used with purpose.”

That conviction followed her into an unlikely first professional arena. Ormond knew little about sports when she interviewed for NBC’s Olympics department and says she was not especially interested in them. Instead of pretending otherwise, she talked about storytelling, particularly her interest in finding narratives that might escape a more conventional sports lens. The outsider perspective became useful. She went on to work across Olympic coverage, UFC, skateboarding, hockey, and other sports, often approaching athletes not as a devoted fan but as a viewer looking for the human stakes beneath the competition.

The approach also taught her that creative conviction has limits. On a Ralph Lauren piece earlier in her career, Ormond and her team produced work they believed in, only to learn that the agency wanted to move in another direction. The lesson was not that the work had failed. It was that authorship inside a professional production exists alongside collaboration, client expectations, and compromise. “Not everyone will share your exact vision, and that is ok,” she says. More importantly, she learned to protect the morale of the people who had made something good even when they were being asked to change it.

Call Me Crazy tested the opposite side of that lesson. Instead of adjusting her vision to fit someone else’s brief, Ormond had to stop forcing her own story into a format that no longer served it. The solo play eventually became the foundation for a film, using dark comedy, romance, and discomfort to examine invisible illness and the particular indignity of having pain doubted by the people charged with treating it. The film narrows those questions to an intimate encounter between a woman with chronic pain and a stranger, where the desire to be seen collides with an equally strong desire not to be reduced to illness.

Ormond does not want the work to stop at recognition. “I want people to feel seen,” she says, but her ambitions extend beyond representation. She is interested in how storytelling about medical dismissal might travel into clinical conversations and contribute to better communication and advocacy, particularly for women living with chronic conditions.

There is an irony in the fact that someone who values preparation so deeply has made her most revealing work by following a story beyond the plan she had designed for it. Ormond still prepares meticulously. She still believes execution depends on craft, experience, and discipline. But theater, filmmaking, and her own life have all made the same counterargument: eventually the day arrives, something changes, and control becomes less useful than attention.

“You do all the preparation possible,” she says, “but then you have to step onto the stage, and deliver what you have in that moment .”

For Ormond, that has become more than a rule for live performance. It is also a description of what happened when she finally stopped trying to make Call Me Crazy into the story she thought she was supposed to write, and began telling the one she actually had.

Yitzi: Olivia, it’s so nice to meet you. Before we dive in and talk about your amazing work, our readers would love to learn about Olivia Ormond’s personal origin story. Can you share the story of your childhood, how you grew up, and particularly the seeds of all the creativity and genius the world has seen since?

Olivia: I grew up in Connecticut as one of four kids in a very lively, chaotic household — one filled with lots of laughter and plenty of noise. The fight to be heard was definitely there; you couldn’t be quiet if you had something to say. I think my creativity and drive to express myself stem largely from that environment.

Having something meaningful to say is important to me because you want people to listen and connect you with things that matter. I love visual storytelling, and I love writing. Writing is my bread and butter, so words are important to me, and I want them to be used with purpose.

Yitzi: Please tell us a bit about how your career first started, your early breaks, and your first major projects.

Olivia: My first job out of college was working for NBC in their Olympics department. I knew nothing about sports and wasn’t particularly interested in them at the time. However, I went into the interview and spoke passionately about storytelling — specifically uncovering narratives that other people might overlook.

That perspective gave me a distinct advantage, and it’s why I was hired and advanced within sports storytelling. I’ve covered the Olympics, UFC, SLS skateboarding, hockey, and more. Even though I don’t follow these sports in my spare time, that distance gives me the vantage point of an everyday viewer. Approaching it that way has allowed me to capture some incredible stories.

Yitzi: You must have remarkable stories from your career. Can you share two specific experiences from your professional life that stand out?

Olivia: During my first year on the job, I traveled to the Olympics and attended the USOC Summit, where I had the opportunity to interview prominent athletes like Chloe Kim and Shaun White. Being fresh out of college made that an intense, transformative experience. I was in awe and completely terrified, wondering what I was supposed to say, but navigating that environment gave me tremendous confidence moving forward.

Those memories have stayed with me because being thrust onto the world stage provides incredible character building.

Yitzi: There’s a common saying that our mistakes can be our greatest teachers. Do you have a story about a mistake you made early on and the lesson you took away from it?

Olivia: Mistakes are truly our most important tool. Because I approach storytelling unconventionally, there have been times where that method didn’t fit the brief. Earlier in my career, I took creative leaps of faith that didn’t always land.

For instance, we produced a commercial for Ralph Lauren. My team did an exceptional job and created a fantastic spot, but the agency ultimately wanted a different creative direction. That experience taught me a major lesson: not everyone will share your exact vision, and that is perfectly fine. You have to adapt to the client’s needs. More importantly, it taught me the importance of maintaining team morale — celebrating the quality of the work we produced even when we had to pivot. Executing the job under changed expectations is a challenging lesson, but a vital one.

Yitzi: There is that related idea that hearing “no” often serves as redirection rather than rejection. Do you have an example where missing out on an initial path led to an even better opportunity?

Olivia: Many times. When I first sat down to write about my journey with chronic pain — which eventually became Call Me Crazy — I spent a long time trying to force it into a traditional screenplay format. It wasn’t working, and the process was deeply frustrating.

Finally, I decided to write the story raw and unfiltered just to see where it led. It naturally evolved into a one-woman play, a format I had never written, produced, or performed before. Embracing that format elevated the material substantially. Once I captured the story authentically on stage, I was able to adapt it into a feature film that conveyed exactly what I intended. It’s difficult to write authentic dialogue when you aren’t working from the inside out; that creative pivot redirected the entire project.

Yitzi: What has been the most challenging project or role you’ve taken on so far, and why?

Olivia: The one-woman show was easily the most daunting and vulnerable undertaking of my career. There isn’t a single fabricated moment in it; the material is drawn entirely from my own life and truth. Putting that out into the world was terrifying.

Producing a theatrical piece for the first time and taking it to the Edinburgh Festival Fringe — all within a six-month window — was intense. Having to step onto the stage every morning to perform a 55-minute personal piece was demanding.

Yitzi: How did you manage that level of pressure?

Olivia: I took it one day at a time. I’m a natural planner and strive to be the most prepared person in any room, but live performance requires accepting whatever the day brings. You do all the preparation possible, step onto the stage, and deliver what you have in that moment.

Much like being on a film set, unexpected hurdles will always emerge. True execution is where thorough preparation, practical experience, and adaptability meet. You have to trust your work and take pride in how you navigate those daily challenges.

Yitzi: Please tell us more about this project. What is Call Me Crazy about?

Olivia: As mentioned, it originated as a one-woman show addressing the realities of living with chronic illness and navigating the medical system as a woman — particularly the struggle of not being believed or heard. The piece uses dark comedy to explore medical dismissal and finding one’s voice.

The short film explores these themes on an intimate scale through the lens of a one-night stand gone wrong. The protagonist wants connection and visibility, yet refuses to be defined solely by her chronic pain. It balances comedy, drama, and romance while examining the tension between wanting to be desired and staying true to oneself.

Yitzi: What core message do you hope viewers take away from the film?

Olivia: I want people to feel seen. Living with an invisible illness or chronic pain is profoundly isolating, especially when healthcare providers dismiss your experience.

My goal across the play, the film, and future projects is to remind people that they aren’t alone and that a community exists. On a broader level, I hope these conversations encourage greater advocacy, understanding, and meaningful reform within healthcare.

Yitzi: Looking back at your career, what are five key lessons you’ve learned — perhaps the hard way — that someone starting out today could benefit from?

Olivia: First, with writing, consistency matters above all else. Write every single day, even when time is tight; your best ideas often surface unexpectedly.

Second, let the story guide you rather than forcing a rigid structure from the outset. Allow the narrative to surprise you.

Third, when directing or leading a set, prepare meticulously, but learn to release control on the day of production. Adapt to obstacles rather than clinging rigidly to your initial expectations.

Fourth, budget constraints don’t have to compromise quality. High production value comes down to key creative choices: prioritize a skilled Director of Photography, strong editing, and excellent color grading.

Fifth, cultivate a positive, supportive set environment. We are making art and entertainment, not performing open-heart surgery. When your crew feels valued and enjoys the process, the final work reflects that energy.

Yitzi: What self-care routines keep your mind and body grounded?

Olivia: Running, walking, and physical movement are essential for clearing my head; many of my strongest script concepts come to me while running. I also practice yoga.

To unwind creatively, I watch unscripted television to step away from narrative structures. Most importantly, I prioritize living life outside the industry — traveling and spending time with friends. You need genuine life experiences to have meaningful stories to tell.

Yitzi: If you could inspire a broader cultural movement to create positive change, what focus would that take?

Olivia: Right now, my primary focus is reforming healthcare communication and advocacy for patients who feel overlooked, particularly women navigating chronic conditions. The current system frequently lets people down. I want to move these conversations beyond creative storytelling and into clinical spaces where practical, compassionate changes can occur.

Yitzi: It has been a pleasure speaking with you, Olivia. I wish you continued success and look forward to connecting again.

Olivia: Thank you so much. This has been wonderful.