The Right Show at the Right Time

Sometimes I think that shows are like wands in the Harry Potter universe. They choose you.

         I was lucky enough to see Waitress in previews at the American Reparatory Theater (ART) in Cambridge, MA. Three years and many shows later (including Hamilton – my apologies to Lin Manuel Miranda), it remains my favorite musical. It wasn’t just the Sara Bareilles soundtrack, the extraordinarily talented cast, or adorable-beyond-words set. All of those would have made it a fun show and a great experience. What makes it my favorite show is the timing of it all.

        I saw Waitress when I needed to see it most. Like Jenna, I felt all kinds of trapped in my life. Unlike Jenna, I was not pregnant with my abusive husband’s child and sleeping with my gynecologist. Instead, I was drowning in the career decisions (did I want to go to grad school?), an academic identity crisis (is chemical engineering really for me – could I be a theater major?), family drama (would my grandmother fall in this nursing home too?), and relationship troubles (how long could this long-distance thing sustain itself?). I was processing these stressors in my typical way – by isolating myself for my support systems and trying to make my problems disappear through sheer force of will. So when two friends asked me if I wanted to see Waitress with them, I think there must have been just a dash of divine intervention that caused me to say yes.

        I cried at the ART.

       I’m not a “crying in public” kind of person. I was dry-eyed at Toy Story 3. I rarely shed a tear at funerals. Once during my junior year in college, after a particularly frustrating day, I burst into tears in a dorm lounge. A friend turned to me and said “Wow, you’re really good at that!” She thought it was an acting exercise; she didn’t believe the tears were real.

        But there I was – crying in a crowded theater.

        This is what Waitress does to me. It makes me feel things. It lets me escape from my own life and see things from a different perspective. I don’t always like what I see, but I’m glad to have seen it.

        I recently saw a show with so much raw emotion in it, it was overpowering. I had walked into the theater with no expectations. The only thing I knew about the show was the title. From the moment the first chord was struck, I could tell I was not in for a typical performance. I gave up on trying to logic out the plot and analyze the subtext after the opening number. The only thing I could do was sit back and enjoy the ride.

        Part of what made this show such a fantastic experience was that, like Waitress, it came to me at the right time. I’m really struggling to process my own emotions. Somewhere along the line, I got the definitions of “emotional” and “weak” mixed up. I’ve spent a lot of my life pushing my emotions away and pretending they don’t exist. Better to blasé about everything than to have anyone think I might be anything less than completely strong, confident, and objective at all times. But I’m going to have emotions. I’m going to feel things. That’s part of who I am. Sometimes I think that by repressing my emotions, I’m repressing part of myself. The more I ignore my feelings and try to be an objectively perfect person, the more I lose my identity. That’s not to say I shouldn’t try to be a better person. It’s more to say that I should strive to be the best version of myself – emotions an all.

        Sitting in that theater, empathizing with the characters motivated by their own extreme emotions, I found myself thinking “Wow, I wish I had it that easy.” If they want something, they go after it. If they feel something, they tell someone. Maybe one day, I’ll be able to do that too.