Old stuff pokes through...

Show is down.....how do I feel? I am proud of the work...the actors and designers...it really was a great group of people. I will miss this group...these words spoken by these particular actors. You all know I constantly posted "rehearsal words" on facebook. The visuals too...I could get lost in the sights and sounds of this piece and as with the production of the Guys; I could see myself in the work. Finger prints I hope....nothing more.

The cast and crew gave me a lovely gift tonight night too....a larger version of the graphic design from the show...framed....it almost looks like they broke off pieces of the set to frame it.

I had a difficult moment with the show on Saturday...it really caught me off guard too...old ugly stuff that rose to the surface yet again.

Ok bear with me as I try to untangle my thoughts. There was an actor in the audience during the talkback Saturday who has seen many different productions of Buried Child. He said that with each production he saw something different. With our production, the theme that struck him most strongly was the need to be recognized. My breath sort of caught in my chest for a second. I remember the day before we started rehearsals writing in huge scrawling letters across my script...

"TO BE SEEN"

I would look at that every day we had rehearsal. That is why I wanted to do this play I suppose...well one reason. There are more than I can even articulate. That is what resonated so deeply to me...not being seen. Not been seen at all...not being recognized as an individual....not being seen as having value.

Then something happened that really tossed me around as a drove home. I was approached by two of the actor's mothers. Yes...their mothers. Now it doesn't matter who....and I am pretty sure they probably think what their moms did was way out of line. But I don't. Each of the moms pulled me aside and in whispered voices thanked me for getting their child on stage again. Each one had this look in their eyes as though they knew how much their child needed to be doing this work. One even said..."this is who they are and they had forgotten. Thank you for helping them to remember."

Each time...I rambled something stupid not knowing how to respond. I wanted to thank each of them for recognizing the humanity and the gifts that their children have....but I could not articulate that....not yet.

I got in my car...and felt grief...again...and such joy for these two people I know. Their parents see them...I know, probably not all of the time, and they would probably be embarrassed by what their moms did, but I was moved by it. I tried to shake off the grief that swirls around my own relationship and history with my mother. I still don't exist for her and I suppose the work I do to move past that will never really be finished, since a moment like this can still feel like I am slicing open a scar.

I am trying to let myself feel this....but to be frank....I have been so good over that past few years at letting things roll off my back or just letting things be...that I think I am not letting myself feel things at all...I get all philosophical way too fast....so it was good to just drive home slowly and cry some tears for some old scars. Maybe that is why my heart is having trouble too. I have forgotten how to get angry....how to actually feel things so I can feel better. Maybe that is really what is breaking my heart.