Facebook strikes again, always punching me in the gut with their “On This Day” app. All of my memories that are currently popping up from 2016 are theatre related. Every day from May 13, 2016 until July 3, 2016 I was at the theatre. After July 3rd, I was five and six days a week on, one or two off until mid-September. I was bouncing between four different shows in varying capacities. I was leaving the house at 8am and not returning until midnight, hoping for a few furtive hours sleep before starting again, desperate to fit in line and music memorization. For an actor, a dream come true, right?

Wrong.

Last summer destroyed relationships. I’m not exaggerating.  DESTROYED.  There are people who no longer speak because of the nonsense that was our shared theatrical experiences. I’ve lost a best friend, a long-time partner in the arts, and all sense that the more casual friendships and acquaintanceships will ever again result in creative collaboration. I’m not claiming to be a  victim here, either. My mouth and my personality get in my way sometimes. I can’t let things go. I can’t just let someone off the hook when I perceive their behavior to be bad or lacking. I demand an often-times ridiculously high level of quality, particularly given my geography. I get insanely frustrated when every member of a cast or crew isn’t pulling their weight.  That’s not exactly a recipe for interpersonal success.  

I am also much harder on myself than anyone else can be. I beat myself up for my perceived wrong-doings. I don’t forgive myself. I retreat to a place inside myself, sometimes as a sort of “time out”, sometimes as self-preservation, oftentimes to evaluate the scenario from other perspectives. I always try to make things right. I’ve tried with these broken relationships, too.  I’ve not been successful, rather, ignored.

I really miss doing theatre this summer. I feel a profound void to have been away from the stage this long. As with anything,however, there are plenty of upsides. I adore having so much time to enjoy my life. Joe and I are better than ever, spending tons of really good time together. I’m enjoying the amenities in my community for the first time in maybe forever. I’ve had summer experiences that I haven’t had since I was a teenager- pool visits, lake time, tennis, golf, all of it. It’s remarkable how rested and happy I am.  People constantly comment on how good I look, on how nice it is to see me out and about.  It’s the “Summer of George.”

But Facebook continues to rub my face in my relationship failures, I’m actually fairly upset. I can’t let go of some of the loss, and- it bears mentioning AGAIN- I’m sad to not be doing theatre work this summer. When I sat down to write this, always writing as therapy, I intended to introduce you to the characters, summarize the rise and fall within the confines of last summer, and leave the story for you to interpret. Then I started to get way too detailed, way too bogged down in minutiae that means nothing to anyone who wasn’t part of the day-to-day of Summer 2016. Suddenly it popped in my head:

 

They don’t care.

 

I can’t get past these splintered relationships because I care so intensely. They don’t.  I’m making myself crazy, indulging in painful musings that revisit five months of me putting every bit of myself into a job that resulted in…..nothing.  Absolutely nothing. Well, I guess according to TimeHop it’s something.  My answer arrived over the holiday weekend:  less Facebook.