THE TEARS OF A CLOWN

I’m writing today to let people know I am not a basket case. I might very well be a case, but certainly not of the basket variety.

I say this because yesterday as I was walking down Bank Street to go teach my screenwriting class I was stopped by two women I have known for oh –God – thirty years. We all studied at the same acting studio, the very one I was on my way to teach at.

They both said “Oh no, what’s wrong, you look like you’re about to cry.”
I was slightly taken aback as I was nowhere near the state of tears. I was actually concentrating on what I was going to teach as I had written my book and blog all day and was pretty much unprepared, so I was doing a quick run-through of how I was going to improvise a two hour class. To them I guess I looked sad.

Part of the problem of being someone who is often times funny or the clown is if you’re not laughing and joking people assume you are deep in the land of misery.

There is no question funny people take weekends off and visit the land of misery on a regular basis, but it’s usually to gather more material.

One of the women said, “I love your blog.” She turned to the other and said, ‘Tracey writes this blog about her daughter and how she has gone off to college and what a terrible time she is having.” What a terrible time I’m having?” I said. “Oh yeah, awful.” she said.

Am I having a terrible time? I didn’t think it was coming off as awful.

From the people I talk to I’m having kind of the average experience. Sure it’s ratcheted up because it’s me and I live near the center of the drama zone much of the time.

But I talk to a lot of moms. A lot of moms are miserable a lot of the time about the fact their kids have left home. It is not an unnatural state of being.

Some who have been through it tell me they were miserable for months, even years. And some – very few say – “I was happy to see them go.” Actually only two people have said that.

The only difference between me, and tens of thousands of other women is I am either brave enough or stupid enough or egotistical enough – depending on your point of view to flash it out there every couple days.

I’m just owning and articulating what many feel.

I’m sure many moms are over it and don’t take things as personally as I do.

I am someone who takes things very personally. I don’t think it’s a good thing. I wish I was more of the water off a duck’s back type of personality. But frankly something happens to me, I take it personally. That’s just me.

So am I miserable? No. Do I have days when I am happier than others? Sure, but that was true before she went to college.
Honestly, there is much less drama at home without her. Teenagers cause a lot of drama, their very state of being is drama much of the time. Getting dressed is drama, relationships are drama, and your existence in their life is hellish drama for them and in turn for you.

Life is no longer the last act of LA TRAVIATA every night. And I don’t miss that at all.

That certainly came with its own form of misery.

Do I miss her? A lot. But I’m not so sure we miss the teenager as much as we miss the little kid or the tween, as Lucy informed me she was on the cusp of becoming. “Not so fast,” I said.

This is when I’m the unhappiest – when I first wake up and I know I can’t see her and say good-morning to her; even if her good-morning often came in the form of a grunt or plea for money.

I miss that. That is the first thing I think about when I wake up. Taylor doesn’t live here anymore.

I can finally say that. Taylor doesn’t live here anymore. And I didn’t cry. So there.

I miss her at dinner.

We have always had family dinners at least four nights a week, most weeks five. The oh-so-fabulous Salva and I were talking this morning and she said “You don’t cook so much now.” It hadn’t occurred to me. But no, I don’t. We go out more.

And she held up a bunch of grapes. “And one bunch – all we need a week now, Taylor and her friends ate so many grapes.” That they did. I remembered the little grape stems on her floor and by her bed and in the bathroom, a little trail of grape stems she and her friends left behind. They used to piss me off. Now I sort of miss them and sort of don’t.

It’s not all black and white. It’s only because it’s being put to ink that it feels that way to many people.

I am busy. I have a life besides her. She may think otherwise at times and because I write about her it may sound that way.
She called me yesterday and I was in the middle of my class. I texted her at break and said I’m teaching. She texted back ”call me as soon as you finish I have to talk to you.”

I honestly like that she calls when I’m in the middle of something, it reminds her I have a life and a career and deadlines and students who are close to her age and find me witty and interesting and care what I have to say. That makes me feel good.

I have a husband and a nine year old who begged me to come home and not have dinner out after class. So I did, I went right home because I know in a few years she won’t care if appear or not and sooner than soon she will prefer if I don’t.

But I returned Taylor’s call in the cab on the way home. No answer.

I texted her, “I tried.”

She texted back, “I’m eating, will call the second I’m finished!”

Well, that was 16 hours ago….long dinner I guess.

I still missed her when I went to sleep even though she clearly didn’t feel the same way.

I would not call it a satisfying relationship at the moment. It’s a relationship in transition. And transition is never easy. The comforting thing is it is transitory.

I take the not calling back personally. Glenn says, “Trust me, she isn’t thinking about you.”

I took that even more personally.

But I shut off my phone, read my book and went to sleep.

Life goes on.

Maybe the lesson is not to return phone calls so quickly???