It's been a while.
My last post was during the summer of 2013; I was in the midst of a divorce, had just closed a life-changing play, and (although I didn't know it yet) was about to undergo some of the most painful and transformative years of my life to date.
Now I'm a stepmother. A massage therapist. I've gutted and rebuilt a house with my partner, who is helping me learn daily how to be a better communicator, and bolstering my courage to let myself be vulnerable enough for true intimacy. We were talking earlier today about the walls we build in social situations -- how they keep us feeling safe, at the expense of also remaining distanced and isolated, a condition I'm weary of existing in and working at diminishing.
But these are all posts in themselves. What I want to write about today is a bit about my journey back to acting over the last few months. Perhaps I'll write again soon about why I took some time off and what led me back. Most recently, serendipity found me cast in the Bag&Baggage play Brontë in which I play Cathy from Wuthering Heights (a childlike dreamer whose decision to marry a man for money and status is slowly killing her) and Bertha from Jane Eyre (a mostly mute character who is denied love, locked in an attic, and driven insane).
For me, one of the most delightful things about these roles is how physically and emotionally free they both are. The play tells the story of the Brontë sisters, and for the most part, each of the other actors plays real people in the sisters' lives; whereas I exist solely in the world of their books, and serve the purpose of expressing emotions they are unable to fully express in their real lives. For me, it's equivalent to why we need art; there's a freedom and an expressiveness that art allows; that it demands. So being that outlet for the characters in the play is doubly freeing for me.
At the same time, the experience has brought me face to face with some of my tendencies to build walls to keep myself safe. Not in the play, necessarily -- I'm pleased, for the most part, with the unbridled expressiveness of both Cathy and Bertha -- but in the way I find myself relating with my cast mates. They're lovely people -- all of them -- and talented, hardworking actors. One of them was already a close friend of mine. We work and play well, both on and offstage; we've created a lovely piece of art, something to be proud of. I know that. And yet, I've made a laundry list of little excuses for myself about why I "don't really fit in" with them. Several of them are company members at Bag&Baggage and have worked together many times before. Because of the last-minute nature of my involvement in the process, they all had more time to do research and role preparation. Even though I am certainly educated and qualified as an actor, I can find a thousand reasons why they are "more so," and to feel intimidated by that. And due to some ongoing health issues I've been dealing with, along with my continuing attempts to balance work and play and family life, I haven't included myself in the late-night post-rehearsal gatherings they've had that have facilitated further bonding among them. All these little insecurities add up, if I let them, to build a sturdy little wall between me and them, keeping me feeling vaguely isolated even though in reality I am very much included, very much a part.
It's a sweet little exploration, really, of a battle that has been going on my whole life, but up until very recently, without my knowledge. I've been more or less aware, for a long time, of this nagging dissatisfaction -- this longing for deeper connection, but unsure how to really feel connected. I'm still not 100% sure how to develop the thriving network of deep connections I long for, but I'm beginning to recognize the barriers I put in my own way. Maybe that means I can begin to break some of them down.
My last post was during the summer of 2013; I was in the midst of a divorce, had just closed a life-changing play, and (although I didn't know it yet) was about to undergo some of the most painful and transformative years of my life to date.
Now I'm a stepmother. A massage therapist. I've gutted and rebuilt a house with my partner, who is helping me learn daily how to be a better communicator, and bolstering my courage to let myself be vulnerable enough for true intimacy. We were talking earlier today about the walls we build in social situations -- how they keep us feeling safe, at the expense of also remaining distanced and isolated, a condition I'm weary of existing in and working at diminishing.
But these are all posts in themselves. What I want to write about today is a bit about my journey back to acting over the last few months. Perhaps I'll write again soon about why I took some time off and what led me back. Most recently, serendipity found me cast in the Bag&Baggage play Brontë in which I play Cathy from Wuthering Heights (a childlike dreamer whose decision to marry a man for money and status is slowly killing her) and Bertha from Jane Eyre (a mostly mute character who is denied love, locked in an attic, and driven insane).
For me, one of the most delightful things about these roles is how physically and emotionally free they both are. The play tells the story of the Brontë sisters, and for the most part, each of the other actors plays real people in the sisters' lives; whereas I exist solely in the world of their books, and serve the purpose of expressing emotions they are unable to fully express in their real lives. For me, it's equivalent to why we need art; there's a freedom and an expressiveness that art allows; that it demands. So being that outlet for the characters in the play is doubly freeing for me.
At the same time, the experience has brought me face to face with some of my tendencies to build walls to keep myself safe. Not in the play, necessarily -- I'm pleased, for the most part, with the unbridled expressiveness of both Cathy and Bertha -- but in the way I find myself relating with my cast mates. They're lovely people -- all of them -- and talented, hardworking actors. One of them was already a close friend of mine. We work and play well, both on and offstage; we've created a lovely piece of art, something to be proud of. I know that. And yet, I've made a laundry list of little excuses for myself about why I "don't really fit in" with them. Several of them are company members at Bag&Baggage and have worked together many times before. Because of the last-minute nature of my involvement in the process, they all had more time to do research and role preparation. Even though I am certainly educated and qualified as an actor, I can find a thousand reasons why they are "more so," and to feel intimidated by that. And due to some ongoing health issues I've been dealing with, along with my continuing attempts to balance work and play and family life, I haven't included myself in the late-night post-rehearsal gatherings they've had that have facilitated further bonding among them. All these little insecurities add up, if I let them, to build a sturdy little wall between me and them, keeping me feeling vaguely isolated even though in reality I am very much included, very much a part.
It's a sweet little exploration, really, of a battle that has been going on my whole life, but up until very recently, without my knowledge. I've been more or less aware, for a long time, of this nagging dissatisfaction -- this longing for deeper connection, but unsure how to really feel connected. I'm still not 100% sure how to develop the thriving network of deep connections I long for, but I'm beginning to recognize the barriers I put in my own way. Maybe that means I can begin to break some of them down.
