A friend of mine is directing a show that's long been on my bucket list. It's a role that - any other time - I could KILL. Auditions were last weekend, but given that I'd just put down Prowler last Friday, there was no way I could audition. The director was kind enough to offer to let me do a zoom audition, and I was going to do that today, but... look, there's no way I can memorize a heavy line load. And acting requires tapping into emotions (which, yeah, I can certainly do) in a controlled manner (which I cannot). The bottom line is that I know I can't do justice to this role right now. Which means that even auditioning would be a waste of time.
This isn't a show that gets done very often, so this was probably the only opportunity I'll ever have to do it. And now that's gone too.
This morning, a friend posted this to Facebook:
And I watched it and cried my eyes out, because I made Doug watch that series (against his will) last year, and he ended up loving it as much as I did. And he would've loved this.
I've started rewatching Downton Abbey (gotta have something else to watch as a break from all the zombie series and movies, right?), and I'd completely forgotten about Lady Sybil because my brain doesn't work anymore. I got to that episode yesterday, and I was doing okay until Tom started crying, "Please wake up, love. Please don't leave me."
And watching Z Nation last night, there was a throwaway line about Molokai, which is one of the two "sister" islands of Maui (the other being Lanai). Doug and I could see both Molokai and Lanai from our resort in Maui, and when Citizen Z mentioned Molokai in the episode, I actually started to turn to Doug to say something, and then I remembered he's not here anymore. And that's when I realized that traveling at all, ever, is pointless: the fun in traveling comes in the memories we make, but what's the point of making memories when I have to make them alone and have no one to share them with?
Doug and I never even got around to posting anything about our week in Maui. We never got around to going through all our wedding photos and making an album. And what's the point in doing either of those things now, without him? They're nothing but reminders of the fact that, for a brief moment, I was totally in love with a wonderful man who was equally in love with me. And now that moment is over and I'm alone.
I've lost so much in the past 71 days: my husband, one of our pets, my sense of adventure, my ability to find any beauty or joy or hope, theatre, travel, sleep, my ability to process information, cooking, sex, my identity... I may be breathing, but I'm not alive. Not really. I'm just here.
Right about now, I'd relish a nice psychotic break: give me hallucinations in which my husband is still alive. I don't even care if it's not reality: I'd be thrilled to spend the rest of my days in a happy delusion that Doug is still here. But I'm pretty sure I won't get that, either.
I'm so tired of crying. I'm so tired of being broken and having no idea how to unbreak myself. I'm just so fucking tired of it all.
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