I used to do community theatre. Here is how it went: You auditioned for a show and if you got cast, your life pretty much disappeared for about the next two months. First there were the rehearsals darn near every night after work for six weeks, getting more and more intense as Opening Night drew near. And then the show opened, and your week turned into pretty much just waiting for the next weekend when you’d go onto that stage each evening and throw your *all* into doing the best production you could do. There pretty much wasn’t ANYTHING else going on that engaged your time and your energies like The Show. It was ALL about The Show, and that’s the way it pretty much had to be.

And then The Show closed.

And it blindsided me the first time it happened, because all of a sudden - all at once - my life went from absolutely *crowded* and involved to - well - not. It was abrupt, and it was empty, and it left me completely overcome by an emotional withdrawal that I never saw coming.

After a couple of shows I learned to expect it and prepare for it. And when people I knew did their first shows, I always called them on the Monday after the show closed to see how they were doing. Because the intensity of it almost always blindsided them, too.

And that’s what I think you’re going through, Gina. Post-show-withdrawal. Suddenly - almost overnight - you went from It’s All About The Puppies to - well - the puppies are gone (save Faith, of course!). It’s a big change, and a big shock, and it’s going to leave you feeling sort of empty and weepy cast adrift for a while. No fun at all.

But it gets better. Normalcy returns. And you get back to the rhythm of your typical daily life.

But at the moment, it’s hard to get over that feeling of being bereft of something. And that’s normal, too.

It will get better. Sending {{{{{hugs!}}}}}}

Count your many blessings around you.

Ah, the ups and downs of living. As I said, taint that easy what we humans are subjected to.

Relax and smell the roses.

SMILE