A comin'

Folks, I fear a crash is a comin'. Tonight is the final performance of our show, and tomorrow I have to wake up all the same and face my life again without the glorious protection of the theatre. Without the high of being paid to collaborate with a range of artists to create something utterly new. Without the rush of presenting yourself, your thoughts, your actions every night in front of a crowd of strangers and being applauded for it. Without the freedom and joy of feeling you are achieving one of your higher purposes in this world, especially when other ones seem so slippery and unattainable.

Oy.

I don't really have a plan for how to navigate this transition. I'm going to try to take a dance class tomorrow morning (if the cast party doesn't kick my ass too hard), and then I have an acupuncture appointment, but that only takes me until 1pm on Monday; after that, time stretches out in front of me. It's likely I'll get sick; that's my usual default distraction in cases like this. Or perhaps this time, I can find my way to a less destructive transition tool.

I know I've sorely neglected both my blog and my friends, so I will endeavor to pour myself into those areas. And once upon a time, I had a dream of a California garden, so perhaps I can use my freshly earned theatre paychecks to begin that project.

All of this, of course, is an attempt to keep myself from doing nothing but obsessing about my other, underlying, important above all else project, with its frustratingly elusive results and my complete lack of control over it.

We've got some big dates coming our way: Our 5 year wedding anniversary is June 13th, and then there is Father's Day, and finally, at the end of July looms the one year marker. I am really angry about that. I am not at all ready to be a year away from their birth and death: we just passed the 10 month marker and I really can't believe that much time has passed. When I think of how much we have accomplished, and how far we've come, it seems like a shockingly short amount of time. But when I think of how close I still feel to having been pregnant with them, to having held them in my belly and then in my arms, to having had to make that final, awful decision to let someone wheel them away, knowing we would never kiss them again, I feel completely offended that the world has had the audacity to have spun nearly 365 times since then. I want to scream with rage about that.

But one step at a time: July will come, but first I have to face tomorrow.