The Memory Of

"Take this sorrow to thy heart, and make it a part of thee, and it shall nourish thee till thou art strong again."
~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I woke up this morning with a profound sadness. I have no idea where it comes from. I could attribute it to the legacy of depression that comes down to me from my family - two of my uncles on my father's side ended their lives abruptly - but that would be a copout. I don't have to own anyone else's depression. As much as it might be chemical, it is also my choice, just as it was my choice (and has been for 10 years) to go home after a play rather than hanging out with castmates at a bar. I usually come home, wind down, and begin to empty my mind through whatever means I can find: writing, playing guitar, sending out a few emails, maybe some Photoshop work. Whether I'm on stage or directing, doing a show takes a lot out of me, so I need to empty that before I go to bed or else that insomnia comes around again and I'm up all night thinking...feeling.

Wow...it sounds like I'm a big mess, doesn't it?

C: You think you're the only one who feels these things? A lot of people feel sad, they just don't write about it.

S: You think? I can't always tell what other people are feeling. I just see what they do....

C: So you label that and move on. Have you ever heard of the "benefit of the doubt"?

S: Yes, I have, smartass. Sometimes it's just easier to consider the worst case scenario and be nicely surprised.

C: Or maybe, Eeyore, it's easier to think that people, for the most part, have good intentions and when they do something wrong, they just might be human.

S: How did this turn into a conversation about other people letting me down?

C: How did you forget that this is a conversation between your conscious and subconscious? Do you think I don't know what's going on with you? (pause) Listen, I know that this is a big year of change ahead of you. I can feel the anxiety connected to that.

S: Damn, I keep forgetting I can't hide anything when I write these conversations between us.

C: I think you're leaving Playhouse for the right reasons. I think you're doing the right things for your career by starting to network your way towards Warner Bros.

S: Thank you.

C: But I also know what a leap of faith these things are. You're solid in both places right now.

S: It just can't keep going the way it's going.

C: Right.

S: And I can't become what I want to be by remaining what I am. What I do at Playhouse gets lost in the competitive atmosphere controlled by two people. What I do at work is rewarded and counted on, but it's so wrong. It's not what I'm meant to do.

C: So take that leap of faith. Change your life this year. Know that there will be mornings when you'll wake up a little sad -

S: I wrote that I had a profound sadness. Look at the top of this entry.

C: There will be mornings when you wake up a little sad, and that's just the aftermath of having done something you love doing the previous night knowing that it's going to end soon. You forget how great it is when you're not doing it, and you forget how much you're going to miss it when you're in the middle of it. This is about right for you, you know....

S: You think?

C: With every show you've ever done - I'm talking about beyond college - you're experiencing things a few weeks ahead of time. You know what that sadness of the final performance is going to be like. And then...what? What's beyond that? It's completely unknown.

S: Ohhhh that's scary. New school, new theater company, new roles.

C: But do you know what's great? You don't have any concept of failure with that. You don't see yourself returning to Playhouse to direct or produce -

S: That would be the failure.

C: So this bold move to walk away from ten years could be the thing that breaks life open for you. Think of all of the weekends you've spent there, the late nights rehearsing and all of the people you've worked with. You came to every cast having to prove yourself all over again because your reputation at that school has been smothered time and time again, but you did it and now you have all of this experience behind you.

S: I sacrificed a lot to get here.

C: And you're wondering if it was worth it.

S: Yeah.

C: You have one thing that many people don't have when it comes to the creative world, and that takes sacrifice.

S: What...? What do I have?

C: Instinct. You know how you react whenever something creative is broken down into structure, laying things out into a formula for everyone to follow? It's against everything artistic, isn't it?

S: Yeah, I guess I don't understand it.

C: That instinct will always be there for you. The sacrifice - while others have gotten married, had children, moved into big houses and indulged in their lives - helped refine the thing you love to do. The sadness in the morning is part of the artist that goes to bed at night. You don't put any of it on, it's part of your DNA now. DeoxyriboNucleicArtist.

S: Cute.

C: And before you begin to think about what it is you're not, and what you don't have in your life, show that depression the fact that you're sitting here working through this having a conversation in a virtual world.

Okay, so maybe that actually qualifies me for psychiatric help, but truthfully, I feel a little better now. When the credits start rolling, all it means is that this particular movie is over. There's always room for a new one, and if I'm standing alone at the end of the next one, all I can do is keep looking forward and try a new leap of faith.

"There is no future
There is no past
I live this moment as my last
There's only us
There's only this
Forget regret
Or life is yours to miss
No other road
No other way
No day but today"
~ Jonathan Larson