Push it down

I opened my eyes this morning, having slept on the recliner in the living room (as I do most nights), with the front and back windows wide open. It was another crisp, cool, sunny, Autumn-like morning. Just like yesterday. Autumn is for football, and snuggles, and hoodies, and hot coffee with my hot husband. Yesterday, I started crying as soon as I got up. This morning, as soon as I opened my eyes and saw the sunlight and felt the cool breeze, I felt the tears coming again. (Push it down, Kathleen. Push it down.)

I got up, brushed my teeth, and then took Kellogg for a walk. Came back inside, fed Kellogg, and fed the cats. (Feeding the cats was Doug's job. Shit! Push it down, Kathleen.) Opened Facebook. Saw that one year ago today, I'd posted about leaving for Hawaii in 35 days and getting married in 41 days. Started to hyperventilate. (Push it down, Kathleen.)

Drank my coffee. When 8:00 came, I had an instant where I thought, "Gotta make Doug's coffee and wake him up." Just for an instant, mind you - and then I remembered. (Push it down, Kathleen.) Watched the morning news. Decided it was too nice outside to stay home all day, so I took Regina George (the new-to-me wheels) for a long drive with the sunroof open, the windows down, and the music blasting. Regina has a really good stereo system, and I wanted to see just how good it is. No lie, I had the volume maxed out, and there was no distortion. 

So there I was, cruising along... and everywhere I drove, there was another reminder of Doug: here, a theatre where we worked together. There, a store we shopped in a few times. Over there, a restaurant we went to whenever we had the chance. (Push it down, Kathleen.)

And then a Beatles song came on the radio. Doug LOVED the Beatles. (Push it down, Kathleen.) I changed the station before I started to cry. The station I flipped to was in the middle of Sawyer Brown's This Night Won't Last Forever. 🤦🏻‍♀️ Yeah, I know it's a breakup song, but the chorus (where I joined it in progress)... 

I know this night won't last forever
I know the sun has to shine sometime
I need some hope for a bright tomorrow
To show this heart's gonna mend just fine

Yeah, dude, I can relate. Especially to needing some hope. (Push it DOWN, Kathleen.)

Flipped the station again. Adele. (SERIOUSLY?!? Push it DOWN, Kathleen)

It was around this time that I decided I needed to find some serious rock music and crank up the volume, hence driving down Main Street blasting Rush's Tom Sawyer so loudly that I'm pretty sure it was heard in Watertown (sorry, folks). So, I've become what I used to make fun of: an old person driving a decidedly uncool vehicle, but blasting really good music as if that makes me cool by association. It does not, for the record.

Got home in time for a zoom call with a woman who runs an activist organization, and now here I am, exhausted. It occurred to me - and honestly, I don't know why it took so long for me to figure this out - that I'm exhausted because of how many times every day I have to tell myself to push it down. I'm exhausted because the only way I can be as functional as I am (which, admittedly, isn't very functional at all) is to push aside my feelings. Rather a Scarlett O'Hara approach ("I'll think about it tomorrow"), though I lack Vivien Leigh's beauty. I also lack her alcoholism, so at least there's that.

Of course I'm tired all the time: I'm constantly trying to bury my feelings so I can do the few things I actually manage to do. Compartmentalizing like that is hard work. I'm trying to go the "fake it 'til you make it" route, but honestly, I don't have any reason to believe the "make it" part is ever gonna happen.

And then, as often happens when I'm driving with no particular destination in mind, I had an idea. It started when I was thinking about how much I miss theatre; the Zoom script reads are fun, for sure. But they're no substitute for spending weeks developing a character and watching her slowly come to life. I miss that. I need it. Acting was part of what kept me sane. I need sanity.

And then, it hit me. The Idea. An idea that, much like the Grinch's, was probably a wonderfully awful idea: what if I combined my need for theatre with the "fake it 'til you make it" concept? What if I were to sit down and design a character - a character who is what I wish I were, and then make my entire life into a 24/7 performance art piece, living as if I were that character?

It's a tantalizing idea, taking "fake it 'til you make it" to such an extreme. Would I slowly transform into that character, or would it always be a performance? Would I really want to become that character? Is the mere idea disingenuous? Pathological? Would I have a psychotic break and think I'm actually that character? And would it be so bad if I did?

I don't have any answers here; I'm just thinking out loud. It's a really interesting concept to me, though, so I want to explore it more. 

So, there you have it; a glimpse into the weird shit that my brain comes up with when it's not preoccupied.

And now I'm going to watch golf and take a nap.