The Rabbit Hole-in my head...

Last night Eileen and I went to a play.  One of our local theater companies in Modesto put on a rendition of “The Rabbit Hole” in a small and intimate basement theater setting.  I want to be honest and say that, while I went willingly, generally speaking theater is not my thing.  Two of our friends, both wonderful young people and excellent musicians in their own right had invited us to see the play they were both featured in.  While I truly had little interest in the play itself, my main reason for going was to support and encourage our friends, which for me, is one of the many threads in the fabric of my personal makeup that I find is important to maintain.

The Rabbit Hole by David Lindsay-Abaire, a Pulitzer Prize winning author, is essentially about the process of grief.  A young married couple loses a child in an accident.  The play centers around the parents and their struggle to find a path toward healing.  I knew what the play was about before I got there, but was ill prepared for the intensity of the experience as my two young friends acted out a story that no parent should ever have to know in real life. 

I want to let you in on a little secret.  I am really just a big “wuss.”  While, at least I’ve been told, I can be somewhat intimidating, once someone gets to know me well they find that I am as pliable as play dough.  I have the emotional fortitude of an 8 year old.  My love of Sci-Fi, Action Adventure, etc is something that I have developed over the years as a wonderful thick-skinned suit of armor that protects me from the emotional turmoil I experience in romantic and tragic genres of entertainment.  When, on the rare occasion, I watch a “sad” movie I experience the all-too-real sensation of being caught up in a whirlpool of emotion.  I can watch it happening as my mind and feelings are drug around the perimeter, circling ever closer to the funnel.  My eyes well up, my nose runs and my head begins to spin with all the self imagined variations of personal connections one might feel in conjunction with what is happening on screen.  Before I can do anything about it I am reduced to a blubbering mess of hot tears and tattered emotions. It’s bad enough when I am by myself, but put me in a room full of people and whatever self control I may have imagined I would be able to muster simply vanishes at the first sign of theatrical tragedy.

Back to last night, and the Rabbit Hole.  We have all experienced loss in one way or another.  It’s not my intention to diminish that in anyway, hear on this page, but it’s not what I want to focus on.  What I was unprepared for was not so much the subject matter of the play, but the experience of watching suffering transmitted through people I care about.  I did not realize that the line between pretend suffering and real suffering would become so blurred in the course of a single evening.  I sort-of forgot that those fine young actors I was watching were not really in the situation they were acting out.  I experienced such a deep sense of empathy toward them that I often found myself desperately looking for a place off to the side of the room at which to focus my gaze.  By making a conscious effort to slow my breathing I could “break” my attention long enough to regain a little composure. 

It’s a strange sensation, being so emotional.  I don’t like it.  In real life emergency situations I’m the guy you want around.  Time slows for me at these times and I always think clearly and easily.  No matter how horrific or heartbreaking a situation I have found myself in, I have always been grateful for the ability to calmly problem solve, aid victims, and work my way to safety and security.  Maybe that’s why I don’t like crying at a show.  Perhaps I'm afraid that my perceived weakness will eat away at, or erode, my own sense of invulnerability when I need it to be there.  Maybe I'm wound to tight, or maybe I’m not wrapped tightly enough.   I don’t know for sure.  I do know that after last night’s “Rabbit Hole” adventure that I am tired.  My eye sockets still carry the weight of a good cry, and my head is a little swimmy. 

Truly, I was pretty damned impressed.  The basement, hard seats and simple set blended into the acting and faded way.  Perhaps the most impressive aspect was that, despite the small budget, the performance was huge.  Initially I went in with the preconceived idea that the next two hours were going to drag by, but the reality was that it went by so quickly that at the end, I wasn’t sure it was over.  I won’t forget that evening for a while.  It was magical with Eileen’s company and, even though I sniffled and cried like a baby, she was just as happy to leave with me as she was to arrive.  I am a fortunate man to have such a lovely woman, and such talented friends. Hopefully the next play has some space aliens and monsters in it….something a tough guy like me can get into….