We've finished two weekends of Carrie the Musical so far, and I've noticed that, starting about Tuesday the following week, I start getting really restless. Irritable. Listless. Lethargic and anxious and almost explosive, all at the same time. That doesn't even make sense, but it's still true. There's a storm brewing inside me.
But why? Obviously, I miss the show and I'm eager to get back. But get back to what? The material? The camaraderie? The attention? The mental/physical/emotional workout of acting, balls to the wall? (Ovaries to the...rosaries?)
This role takes me to ugly places. It isn't "fun." I love it and cherish it, yes, but that's not really the same as having fun with it. But it's allowing me to explore some darkness that I otherwise would not permit myself to express, personally. In that darkness is a lot of vulnerability. It's hard to be vulnerable, especially in such a public way. There's something primal about exposing those raw parts of yourself... and getting to blame the character. It's not me, no. I would never do that. But Margaret... She's vicious.
There's also a lot of energy there, in the dark. It's constructive, in a way. When you're in the dark, your goal is to create light in some form. Sometimes, it just takes grabbing matches, but other times, it requires the furious and unrelenting rubbing of two sticks together, praying for a spark.
So I get to Tuesday, and I am without that scary, yet energizing, outlet. And I won't get it for a couple more days. And I'm restless and cranky and sad and lonely. And, if I could just stop sitting around in between-show depression, I would explode.