For me, performing is a high. I don’t even get nervous anymore, which is a great gift of age. By the time I get to the performance stage, I am at the point that I don’t have to think too, too much about what my next line is, or where my right foot is supposed to be (unless it’s the Act 1 finale, in which case, I just make sure Bizzy is about one foot in front of me and off to the left so I can watch her, without watching her, you know what I’m saying?), and I can just flip over into right-brain out-of-time happiness.
And, by the way, I highly encourage you to find the thing that does that for you (maybe you have already. If so, you understand what I’m saying ya?) because it’s a wonderful place to be.
Of course, coming down from that high is another story altogether. I miss the music, I miss the cast, I miss making harmonies with a large group of people, I miss making people laugh. I miss it all. Plus, I’m just plain old garden variety exhausted. This show was in particular hard to come down from because I had a bunch of real-world stuff to deal with that got legitimately put in limbo while I did the show that then had to be, you know, dealt with.
Still, it always seems to take a longer time to recover from this than my left brain thinks it should. Because here it is, in the third week since the show closed and I’m still tired. I have to remember that my left brain has very little to do with it, because while my body and right brain were performing, it was having a nice little vacation. If my creative self (and that includes my body) needs a little fallow time, then I have to let it take as much time as it needs. My left brain can handle things in the meantime.
So, if you talk to me in the next little while, and I seem a little dull, that’s only because my creative self is off in a hammock somewhere snoozing. Shhhhh.