It's been a week since Poet In My Heart has blocked me and of course, Mr. Hopeful was my only friend to understand what I was feeling and told me he was sorry for my loss. I have others that identified with what happened because it happened to them, and somehow that makes it ok. Just to know friends out there feels the same way I do about friendship makes that friendship even stronger. Mr. Practicle is in an even deeper depression than Mr. Hopeful and I didn't think that was possible. But perhaps Mr. H has more to live for. I know my children often saved me from complete despair. I try to treat them both with the same care my group treated me. I listen and ask questions to get them to talk it out more. Sometimes it works. I think it works more with Mr. H then Mr. P but then I honestly think Mr. H wants to feel again, and I believe Mr. P has given up on anything, everything and needs professional help. Unfortunately, he is paralyzed from getting it both physically and financially. The good news on my side of it is that even though these men have been and hopefully will continue to be special and dear friends in my life, I have not and will not let their individual depressions bring me back to a state of feeling like life is futile. I'm learning how to control my empathy. But still have it enough to want to help. So this is a good thing and makes me feel even more in control of who I am.
I was able to rework the play I've been writing with a new main character to replace the one that Poet had said I could use. And once I started writing the new character really took shape. Fortunately, I had already formatted the play so editing wasn't as large a task as I'd feared. Took most of the yesterday morning to read through and replace different dialogue and different storyline, without erasing anything from my other main characters journey which I liked. I have one more read through this morning after my blog, to make sure there are no pesky errors from the other character's storyline, and perhaps some more funny elements will strike me. I always think it needs more humor, but that might not be true. I'm excited to see if all my interested parties are still interested in reading it once I reach out later. And then I'll be sending it off...like a mother watching her child leave home for the first time to college. It needs to be done but its so hard to let go.
I have a feeling my writer friends in Chicago will be much faster at responding to my edits than Mr. P has been, but in his defense he has been depressed. I'm hoping that they each will feel comfortable enough to tell me what they liked and what they didn't and what works for them and what doesn't. I haven't been this excited about something I've written in since before my depression and Mr. Charisma, and that in and of itself is also a good sign.
With that thought, it's time to read through the play again.