You may have noticed I’ve not been blogging all that much of late. I’ve been a bit preoccupied.
Do not misunderstand me – I have happily dived in and let it consume all my time because frankly I’ve been having the best time.
And tonight sees the shows we’ve been working so hard on come to their inevitable climax – the first of the real performances themselves. You’d think I’d be excited, and a good chunk of me is, but I’m preempting the sadness that will no doubt come after the last performance.
I’m not good at endings. I’m not good at just living in the moment without overthinking what things will be like afterwards. Like when Hubs and I went to see a special charity screening of the film Bill, where all the cast would be there – I spent weeks looking forward to it as they are some of my favourite actors and writers (they were the cast of Horrible Histories after all), but the day before I suddenly realised I wouldn’t have it to look forward to once it was over and then I got sad. It’s pathetic.
“Being part of something special makes you special”. I’m not sure who said this. It might have been Rachel Berry in Glee. But whoever it was, it feels true.
I’ve had literally the most amazing, stressful, time with these plays, and met some of the loveliest most positive and uplifting people. And as of next week I wont get to see them all twice a week for rehearsal and general larks. Granted it will be nice to have a semblance of normal life back though…
Since we moved to Northampton I haven’t really met too many people to form any friendships with; I’d like to think that I’ve made a few with Duston Players, but my stupid anxiety screams at me that they wont want to talk to me once the show is over and I’ll never be invited back.
This last few months has seen me really step out of my comfort zone – I was on live radio, I’ve published a stupid video of me talking on Facebook (which I never, ever do ’cause I hate the sound of my own voice), I’ve been taking photos again, and generally trying to brave my way through the aforementioned anxiety. And I’ve not done too badly. Sure, there’s the performances to go yet, but frankly if I end up on my arse (again) it doesn’t matter as long as I keep laughing. Which isn’t hard to do when you’re performing with some very funny people.
If you’re reading this, Duston Players, then I want to thank you, all, for helping my find myself again. And I promise to try not to cry too much after the last show…