I’m exhausted at the effort. I reminisce more often than I’d like about the times I didn’t care. Or didn’t have to. I could work at a beachfront restaurant or a toy store in the mall. My reputation was enough to keep hiring me after I left for school or to work at camp. And I could live in a cabin or a crappy apartment with the contents of my life small enough to fit in a minivan. I didn’t have a mortgage. I didn’t have responsibility.
Is this a mid-life crisis? Am I having a mid life crisis? I want to abandon everything for a minute. Fall off the grid for a while. Just drive somewhere away from bills and jobs and theatre and and and and work in a bar and remind myself why having a real job is important. Why being a grown up at my age is important. What the word important even means.
I think I figured out some of my problem. The hazard of thinking too much. What I have decided is that I don’t get to be myself. Unless I am with someone under the age of 10, I am constantly putting on a face. The consummate professional. After shows I recruit people for my company. I choose the shows I work on based on whether someone from work might happen to see me. Everywhere I go, people recognize me from a job fair, or a performance, or a training I conducted. I just want to be normal. I want to drink a glass of wine for lunch and not think about the implications of someone seeing me. I want to feel free to perform in a ridiculous show without feeling like I’m going to get in trouble at work. I just want to be a person. A silly, sometimes stupid, mostly crazy, human person. I can’t even imagine what celebrities or politicians feel like if Human Resources can make me this crazy.
I count. I matter. The things I do influence people and how people interact with other people. I just have to keep reminding myself that this funk will pass. That as long as Jack and Liam and Craig and Sophia see value in me, it is likely that adults see value in me as well. That the brutal honesty of children is nothing compared to how well adults can mask their true intent. That 32 is a blip in the radar of life. That life will make sense again.