Puppets

“We degenerate into hideous puppets, haunted by the memory of the passions of which we were much afraid, and the exquisite temptations that we had not the courage to yield to.”

~ Oscar Wilde


Oh depression, you have reared your ugly head. And generally, I would put out this fire by painting all night, except that my studio has yet to be moved. So I revert to the other canvas...the written word. I spent the last hour looking up quotes on "doubt", "frustration", "lonliness", "trust" and "fear", hoping to find something that would light a fire in my soul and give me a reason to wake up in the morning and attack the day. It only served to make me question certain things more.

Woman are very unique creatures. Especially if their senses are heightened by a drastic change. Sometimes, as my brother has told me on several occasions, "the light you see at the end of the tunnel may just be the oncoming train." Doubtful (there's that word) that it could actually be the light of day...not today...not at this time in my life. So like a dog alerted to an intruder, my ears are perked up and I am listening and watching intently.

I had a rare opportunity to have several hours all by myself this evening...and after a much needed meeting regarding two short plays I will be directing at Geva in November, I drove up to Durand Eastman and enjoyed the balmy evening by the water and appreciated the bright glistening Jupiter and its moons in the night sky. It didn't take me long to become lost in thought.

The very first question that came to mind, (and believe me, I don't beat around bushes as a general rule, so it didn't surprise me that my thoughts followed suit) was this, "at what point do you stop making excuses?" the second was, "how long do you ignore the progression of events?" And immediately, I started denying what my heart was telling me and painting a completely different picture of what the future WON'T BE. It blew my mind that I couldn't give a straight answer to my own questions. It was then that I thought about what a puppet I have become....in certain areas of my life and it brought to mind the quote at the beginning of this entry.

When we are young, we are not easily controlled. My son makes that quite apparent to me every day. As we grow older, we allow ourselves to fall into patterns that eventually dictate how we live. In essence, we become slaves to ruts in our lives that attach themselves and string us up on our own puppet stage. My movements become not my own, but the movements that others with great influence on my life generate. It's a completely frightening revelation. How scary is it that, as a puppet, the very life you breath is controlled by the strings that are manipulated by someone else, and if we cut the ties, we fall to the stage in a lifeless heap. This whole scenario of who I have allowed myself to become hit me with such force that it momentarily made my heart skip several beats. The clarity in my mind was almost painful as the realization of this nightmare unfolded. In fact, I was feeling rather sedate, sort of sleepy, sitting there looking up at the sky, but not after these thoughts. I got myself back into my car, switched what I was listening to on the CD player, drove by some places that I normally visit hoping that this epiphany might be wrong...but nothing changed the fact that something needed to change.

I gave up quite a bit this evening. I gave up being with my theater buddies at one of our usual hang outs, I gave up time with my son, I gave up solitude in a completely safe haven I have recently acquired...and I gave up the love and warmth of another. In exchange for what? For a puppet string. And again the quote came to mind...this night, along with many others, will, without a doubt (there's that word), come back to haunt me...in fact, I'm almost afraid to close my eyes this morning...because when I do, I have a tendency to dream, and I have found that dreams sometimes betray the good intentions of your reality. And I started to get angry...not to the ugly anger that most experience, but to the "get up and go" energetic type of anger that causes me to rearrange furniture, clean, bake, paint, write...the kind that spurs creativity and ACTION.

When I got home...I thought about the choice I was about to make...the choice to cut the strings that attached me to the unseen forces that control my life. Left arm. Snip. Right arm. Snip....and I cried...both good and bad tears. Good because even if I was left limp and without life, it would be only me and not someone else controlling me...and bad, because I missed the control.

I don't want to miss out on all that life has to offer me. I'm not getting any younger here. I want the best. I will settle for nothing less......

As for the "puppet"? I will embrace the frequent hauntings of the ghosts from days gone by...I will allow myself to be passionate and risk change with the courage that I know I have always had.

And leave the stage by my own means, not at the hand of someone else.

Stay strong. Peace.
Kat