Of Springtime Blues

I'm healing.

There's no question.

Because the things that happened in May - the wonderful things, and the terrible things, and all the things in between - a few months ago they would have broken me into apathetic can't-get-out-of-bed bits.

But I managed to get out of bed. I managed to get to work on time, on a holiday, near the end of this ridiculously stressful month.

Go me.

What was so stressful?

Well, the usual suspects of money and household chores and whatnot have been exacerbated due to summer camp dues,  end-of-school-year prep, and Abby's Wonderland rehearsals. I've lost weight, started walking more, and started eating better (yay spring and fresh produce on the cheap!). I've also had a three-day strike from work, the usual depression/grief/insomnia, and spring allergies (boo spring cottonwood and spiders!). And Grandma's broken car, which - while not terribly stressful for me - involved a lot of stress for her.

And then there was the aforementioned Wonderland.

It is absolutely gorgeous.

Scenes that have the audience busting up laughing (and one of the "Alice's" parents saying Abby should win an award for Most Lively Ensemble Member). Scenes that are threatening enough to frighten younger audience members (my niece Lucy (7) spent most of one act cuddled up with Abby's friend who was sitting next to them in the audience... though she claims that the friend's shoulder was just "closer" than the bench's headrest).  And scenes that had even the videographer sniffling.

Hilarious and heartbreaking by turns; this show is really big on the Mood Whiplash. I won't give too many spoilers - even though all my local readers really should have seen it by now - but it's a video game and pop culture twist on the familiar Quest to Find Oneself, and you should bring plenty of Kleenex. And if you have had a loss of a loved one, if you're a parent, or if you're just sensitive to such stories, bring two boxes. If you have extras you can share.

The director of the piece described the second act to me as "a downer". It's not, not by my standards anyway. What it is to me is terribly bittersweet.

Catharsis is a Good Thing, even if you feel crappy physically for days afterward.

And now I've seen it twice, once as a standard audience member (with a slew of family, and I think it wouldn't hurt for Lizzy's grief counselor to see it so she has some context for what Lizzy's likely to tell her next session), and once as a parent volunteer.

 Thank Google (or, well, Amazon) for waterproof mascara.