The Endless Post Show Blues

A couple nights ago, I spilled a bowl of tortilla chips on my desk. It could have been worse. My desk has a glass surface, and the bowl harmlessly bounced before settling. The chips mostly landed behind the keyboard and not on the floor. Nothing was broken, but I spent an inordinate amount of time berating my clumsiness. The string of cuss words was epic, and I hope to store the rage I felt for my upcoming performance of Don John in Much Ado About Nothing (Sitka Performing Arts Center! March 27-29!).

I have reduced the number of lashes I dole out to myself for being clumsy over the years. With my ADHD diagnosis comes an understanding that I have more things than just gravity working against me. My lack of spatial awareness mixed with a lack of dopamine for attention to detail leads to many drops and spills, and when I am feeling well I can laugh at myself.

But I am tired. And a tired me has difficulty regulating my emotions, and so I’ve been cussing myself out for casual mistakes for a couple of weeks. Many nights, I’ve been waking up at 3. Sometimes I can fight it off and fall back asleep until 5am or so, but for the most part my sleep has been terrible. I’m freaking grumpy.

sleep is glorious

This isn’t my typical rise due to changing light levels, or summer sun, or crippling anxiety, or old-man-bladder. It’s a concoction that includes all those things and jet lag. We returned last week from our (now annual?) Great Shape! Inc.’s 1000 Smiles project.

It’s also possible that I have been in a consistent state of having the post show blues since last April. The 1000 Smiles trip feels like one large stage production. It has many of the same elements: a week of spending an enormous amount of time with other team members, temporary spaces furnished with a purpose, and a lovely sense of accomplishment during and after the event. It’s just like theater, except the blood is real and there’s a whole lot more of it. Much like the shows I’ve been a part of, I miss individual components of each production and I long to be around the individuals I spent all that time with.

This year we went to St. John’s in Antigua and Barbuda. Right away the trip was different from last year’s trip to Nassau. Antigua is almost 1,200 miles from Nassau, for one. It’s east and a lot farther south than I’ve ever been, so I wasn’t expecting to need my fleece in the dental clinic. (I brought it anyway; I am so cold almost everywhere I’ve ever been.)

I also got to visit St. Paul, a warmer version of the last St. Paul.

This was my second trip with the project and I was ready for what the work would look like at the clinic. I wasn’t concerned so much about whether I would figure things out. As the trip neared, I found myself more excited about interactions with the other volunteers than I was nervous about getting things done. And I got things done! My main job all week was bringing items back from sterilization. There were 649 extracted teeth in the 5 days of clinic, which meant I learned very early just what the hell a periosteal elevator is. I had so much help along the way, made some new friendships, strengthened some existing ones, and didn’t even have to see any of my roommates naked! (It was three to a room at a couples resort. Lots of effective communication was had.)

I also assisted Sylvia and Lexi with hygiene!

I wrote every day I was on the trip. I actually wrote every day in the month of January. I wasn’t on purpose trying to have any kind of resolution-type activity. There was just an event hosted by Memoir Nation where a bunch of folks were getting together to write. I’m a sucker for community, so I overrode my hatred of resolutions and goals and tasks and etc and joined. I ended up writing about 18,000 words. Most of that was journaling, and maybe I’ll one day go back and actually read it. I also wrote about 2500 words towards my 2024 fiction project, and I definitely had a couple of days where I felt inspired to write towards my memoir. (Probably about seasickness; it’s my favorite thing to write about these days.)

I often had writing partners for my morning writing sessions

It feels good, now, to see that 18,000 number. That’s a lot of words. But I’ve almost written zero since. I’m tired, yes. The side effect of resolution-style, get it done, goal-oriented hobbying is that I always have a load of guilt that starts the moment I miss once. Skip a day, miss the target production amount, or just plain give up, I always end up feeling like a failure. I’ve written about it before, and I’ll write about it again. It is nearly impossible for me to find the energy to hobby as soon as I fall short of my own expectations.

…Unless it’s write or clean up tortilla chips. Then I’ll write every time.

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