White Knuckled Grip

I’m confused about the shape my life is taking. I spent eight hours rehearsing for my show this weekend, which was the most fun I have had in a long time, and then another hour auditioning for another show in which I did not get cast.

I was just thinking how Chris thought I was good enough no matter what. I’m not talking about my singing or acting. I mean that whenever I faced rejection in the theater world, I would come home and express my dejection and he would softly tell me that there would always be more plays to audition for. Something about his calm, matter-of-fact delivery always made me feel reassured, validated and worth something.

I thought I would get cast tonight because I felt like I had Chris watching over me. Then when i didn’t get cast, I thought it was because Chris had other plans for me, that maybe he was saving a place for me after next Monday’s audition. Why do I do that? Why have I made everything in my life a product of what Chris is doing for me. Wherever he is now, I’m sure there are more pressing matters than my budding community theater career. I need to stop placing Chris behind everything I do and everything I want. I have brought him back into my life to assuage the loneliness and the panic brought on by his eternal absence. I’m not sure if it’s healthy for me to think this way. Clay will say it’s fine. He says everything’s fine.

Chris’ illness and death are becoming distant in my memory and that terrifies me. I need him in the forefront of my mind. This is so bad for me, but I can’t let go. I feel bad that he had to die and I can’t just plug somebody else into my life. I don’t even want to. Except that I do want to. I’m so damaged that I can’t imagine anybody being able to endure me.

I’m confusing myself. It’s probably best if I stop trying to write about it just now.