Today was a good day.
Honestly, it didn't start that way. It didn't truly start turning into a good day
until intermission.
Wait…intermission? Intermission for what?
Godot.
Waiting for Godot.
My favorite play.
No
matter where you are in life you can find something that makes sense to you. A
line or two, a look exchanged between the players. The pace of the show is such
that you don’t get a whole lot of time to relish in the moment before you’re
plunged into the next. I love it.
Tonight. Tonight was good.
Today. Today was not so good.
I woke up out-of-sorts. I got my kids off to school and
attempted to go about my normal routine.
When I found myself reading the same email for the third time and still
not comprehending what I was reading I finally gave in.
I went to the kitchen and mixed up a batch of mint
chocolate-chip ice cream. Once it was
ready I poured myself a new cup of coffee (it was only 10 in the morning),
dished up a bowl of ice cream and plopped on the couch.
Obviously today was bothering me. Over the past year or so I've become very
self-aware and I knew I needed to poke this bruise until I figured out why
it was there. Otherwise I was just going
to fret all day.
Before you say, “Duh Kristin, it’s Valentine’s day. The
first one in 16 years that you don’t have someone.”
That wasn’t it.
Er, that wasn’t all of it.
I needed figure out what was going on in my head.
I did a lot of thinking, a lot of turning thoughts and
feelings over in my mind, looking for the source of the unhappiness. I talked a bit with a friend, talking through
things was beneficial. So was the ice cream.
Really, ice cream helps.
It took two cups of coffee, two rather large bowls of ice
cream and about four hours for me to sort thru what was at the center of it all. Once I untangled it, I acknowledged the feelings
and set them aside to be processed later.
I’m not ignoring the feelings. I’m not pushing them away, hiding from dealing
with emotions.
Instead, I’m saying, “Yes, I feel that. I know why. Now is not the right time to work
through it. It can wait.”
Needless to say I was emotionally exhausted.
Really didn’t have anything left. But my day was far from over.
Months ago, I told an actor-friend that I would go see them if they got cast show they were auditioning for. Well,
he got cast. The show? “Waiting for
Godot”
I hoped he’d forget that I had said I would go.
He didn’t. He even
offered to buy my ticket, if the ticket price was going to be a
difficulty.
Last week, when he reminded me of my promise to see the show,
I told him that if I could find someone to watch the kids, I would go on
Valentine’s Day. At the time it sounded
better than eating heart-shaped pizza with the kids and going to bed
early.
I honestly didn’t think I’d find anyone to watch the kids.
I did.
Why is this a big deal?
Why did I not want to go?
Anxiety. I have an
irrational fear of doing new things.
And this was fraught with newness.
It’s not the paralyzing fear of a panic attack, but it can
get pretty close to that. I made the decision
a long time ago that as long as my anxiety doesn’t interfere with my life, I wouldn’t
have to take medication. I haven’t taken
medication for anxiety in about 8 years.
I knew I was going to be spending the evening fighting the “flight”
part of my fight or flight reflex. All
that adrenalin pumping through my system?
Exhausting.
After the day I had digging around in my head and heart, I
didn’t think I had it in me to deal with all that too.
Then he sent me a text.
Saying that he wouldn’t be able to say hi after the show, because someone
important was going to see the show and give the cast feedback.
Well crap. He hadn’t
forgotten. And my kids were totally looking forward to pizza with Grandpa.
So I packed the kids in the car and took them to Grandpa’s.
I went through the drive thru and got fries and a soda. (my
comfort food) Then I drove to the
theatre. The show was at the community
college. A big massive campus of
concrete buildings and parking lots.
At this point it was
only about 6:15. The curtain was
7:30. I knew it was going to take me
that long to get into the building.
The whole drive to the theatre was breaking it down into
small bits. Okay, just find the right
parking lot. That’s it, find the right
lot.
Okay, great. Found it.
Now, all I have to do is park. Don’t even have to turn off the car. Just park somewhere where I can watch
everyone else walk in. Simple. Easy. Done.
I sat in my car.
Eating my fries and slowly watching the people get out of their cars and
walk towards the theatre.
At this point it gets a bit easier. I’m already here. It would be stupid to drive
away now.
At 6:58 my mind won the war and I got out of the car. I walked through the concrete maze to the
theatre. My inner monologue slowed down
a bit more and I no longer had to constantly talk myself through each step.
I bought a ticket. I
found a seat in the corner.
I did it. I made it
in.
Now, just please, I don’t wanna figure out small-talk. Please.
Let no one notice me.
So I employed my Jedi mind tricks. “You don’t see me, you
don’t want to sit next to me. You don’t see me.” It worked – no one sat near me, or tried to
talk to me.
And then the show started.
Within minutes I was transported away from my exhaustion and hurt. I was
absorbed in the banter these two lived in. Who are they? What are they?
Oh how I love this
play.
I started smiling at my friend’s first entrance and didn’t
stop. As silly as it sounds, I am so
proud of him. He was awesome. He nailed it. Awesome, adorable, and amazing.
In the shows we’d done together he’d been a chorus member or
had a bit-part. This was totally
different. Was it a flawless performance? No, but it was a perfect performance.
Intermission came.
Light came back up. I was still smiling. Sitting there, I realized a hard truth.
This was my first time ever going to a function alone. And
it was Valentine’s day.
No group of friends,
no significant other. I could see an
endless stream of future nights like this, were I was alone, surrounded by a
sea of people.
But I was having a good time. I was glad I came. I even
managed small talk.
The show ended and I scurried back to my car. I wish I could have seen him after to express
how awesome I thought his performance was.
I totally wanted to bring him home and set him on the couch and ask him
to recite his lines so I could dissect them, pull them apart to find all the
truths hidden in his words. I wanted to ask him about how he got there. The rehearsal process my favorite part of
working in the arts. It’s amazing,
taking words on a page and turning them this beautiful, fully realized world.
That, and as bizarre as it sounds, I wanted a sweaty-actor
hug. I wanted that post-performance happiness that can only be expressed in a
hug.
Really the only thing that could have made my evening better
was someone to come home to. But then,
if I had someone to come home to, the whole thing wouldn't have been such a big
deal to me.
So, thank you. thank you to the friends I talked with this morning, thank you to my dad for hanging out with the kids tonight. and thank you to my actor-friend - for being...you.
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