Out of treatment and out of sorts.
After a moving graduation day at rehab, an AA meeting (which I secretary) immediately following, and then a dinner party at Lars’ friend’s place, I was exhausted. Physically and emotionally.
Back in my younger years, I used to perform in musicals with a local church’s community theatre group. We’d rehearse for months on end, spend every living moment we weren’t in school together, and then we’d put on two weekends worth of performances. I remember that after the final performance of every production I did, I’d come home and cry.
It was all too much. All that time, effort, struggle, success, and the big finish. And then, nothing. It was over. And, even though I knew there would be another performance, another show, another string of months where I was constantly with cast mates working toward a common goal, it was always devastating the night of that final performance.
That’s kind of how I feel about rehab. Five months of work, struggle, friendship, facing foes, and now, nothing.
I have to remind myself that there will always be another show. And, when it comes to rehab, the next show, is living life. And, what a fucking show it is. Living. Living better than I ever have. Having the tools, the confidence, the friends, the wherewithal to get back in the game. And, this ain’t no Andrew Lloyd Webber number, honey. This is the real deal. No stage. No matinee. It’s one, ongoing show, and, I’m going to have to go back to the script sometimes.
People say that the only thing you can count on is change. It’s true. And, you can choose to be one of two types of people on this planet:
- A) The one who lives in fear that their little plans and designs will morph, ruining everything. The one who walks on eggshells planning every route to a T, accounting for every street sign and stoplight. The planner and the preparer.
- B )The person who lives in the knowledge that things are constantly in motion. That’s the beauty of the trip. And, sure, you can plan where you’re going to stop for the night, book the hotel in advance, but, the rest is enjoying the journey. The missed junctions turn up the best roadside diners. A wrong exit, a lesson learned, and an extra mile of views that really shouldn’t have been missed anyway.
I used to be a person A. I’m half way there to a person B. And, for now, that’s all I can ask for, just letting go a little. Enough. Enough to see that the rocky road is always more interesting than the smooth one.
Tonight, I went with Lars to see a double bass virtuoso performing with the Portland Baroque Orchestra. An exciting, diverse program full of twists and turns. All the performers, women, sat on the edges of their seats, faces beaming as they bowed their ancient instruments. Lars held my hand, and, I felt like a grown up. A rare feeling, that I treasure.
And there I was, right in the middle of the best show ever. My life.