"Look!" I exclaimed, flecks of colors in my hair and under my nails. "That little wall in the kitchen is yellow, like a bright sunshine yellow. And above my bed, that little wall is blue. And over here, I didn't have the right kind of kermit green I wanted, so I mixed it a little, can you tell? Is it too splotchy?"
She smiled at me. "You need to work on a show."
It was true. I was in a stretch of no creative work coming my way, so I wound up doing things at home like building blanket forts, re-arranging furniture, or baking apple pies. It took an outside perspective to make the commentary: gee, Grace, a little bored?
I somehow always forget what it's like to close a show. The performance high takes so much energy and focus out of you. I pretend it doesn't - every time, I pretend it's just work, I'm doing what I love, and the people doing it with me are my hard-working, intelligent coworkers. I don't cry at closings, even if half the cast is moving out of state in a few weeks. It's not like I'll never see these people again. (Not the way some of them instagram their lives.) No one is dying. I feel, intellectually speaking, totally stable. Stories end. There's got to be the last page somewhere. It doesn't mean life is over.
I spent the entire weekend sleeping. I lost Memorial Day entirely to laying on the sofa. I didn't even watch TV. I tried. I tried reading a book. I kept closing my eyes and hiding under a blanket.
I don't live alone this time. My boyfriend finally nudged me. "Are you... okay?"
"Yeah. I just. I'm fine. I guess I'm just tired. And. ... and... I WANNA BE IN A PLAAAAAY." I hid my face in a pillow, laughing at myself for taking so long to realize what was happening. My cognitive mind might be totally on track, but the rest of my body systems are exhausted. It feels like jet lag, which is seriously strange, considering you've only traveled back from Neverland. It wasn't real, so it shouldn't feel like this.
Thank goodness I have a couple weeks before I start teaching full time. After that, I have months of space - I auditioned for two shows that I did not get cast in, so it's a little like looking into an abyss. I guess I'll have to fill it with blanket forts and apple pies.