There is a line that the other character says right at the beginning of the play, "The monster is back." The character is referring to cancer, his personal demon. As rehearsals have intensified, leading into performance and I connect more and more to my character, I hear that line repeating in my head a lot, in reference to my demon. A teasing voice saying "you fool...you took this part and you proceeded to dabble and play with fire and guess what, loser-- here I am! The monster is back, what are you going to do now?"
Well, first of all, back off monster! You are not "back." I am not suicidal. I have no intention of jumping off of a bridge or slicing my wrists or swallowing an entire bottle full of pills. I am excited by both the present and the future and am committed to staying here. This is a fucking play, not life and you are in no way "back." Yet, I am, and it troubles me to admit this, once again having difficulty facing the day to day. When I wake in the morning, generally after a restless night, my body aches, and not from working out too much. My heart feels heavy and my eyes are teary. The outside world seems ominous and I want to return to the cocoon of my bedroom. I'm constantly exhausted yet, even after an extremely long day, as soon as I'm in bed with the lights out, I'm wide awake, listening to every groan of the house and feeling the earth shift underneath me. For a person prone to deep depression, this is a very uncomfortable state of being. The question becomes how to manage it and not let it sabotage the really wonderful things happening in my life.
The play opened this past weekend. It was both exhilarating and exhausting. We had four shows, some of which felt amazing, some felt a little less so, though they all went well. We are waiting for reviews, hoping that they will be positive. I also hope that my friends will show up for this show. I'm navigating the disappointment of my mother not acknowledging opening at all, having not sent even a text. I keep telling myself that it's not a big deal, but of course it is. What balances out the predictable disappointment there is the surprise of flowers from a friend in San Francisco and the good wishes from my sister and numerous other friends. I am constantly reminded that I have a deep well of love and support from the family that I have created.
I was asked, at the one talk-back I did, what the hardest part of the play was. I answered "keeping Sue separate from me." It's been really interesting how little of my own life I use onstage. I don't feel like me. I stand differently and use my voice differently. I thought, going into this project, that it would be hard keeping us separate on stage, that it would be too revealing. It's not. I don't feel my life on stage at all-I feel hers. Offstage however, it's a different story. I do feel a bit of her sadness and desperation bleeding into my life. Her loneliness mirrors mine. I basically have today, a Monday, off. I am wandering my tiny house, a little lost and afraid. I'm jumping from project to project, from the piano to making baby ballerina headpieces to writing, to cleaning and back again to the piano....I crave the touch of another person, yet fear that touch more than anything else I can think of. This yearning for contact, yet abject fear of that same contact is where the two of us meet. I am using this quiet somewhat rainy day to wander through the fear and let it exist without taking over. I am teaching myself to enjoy the success of being an actress who can touch the darker parts of our souls, both the personal and the collective and NOT be consumed by them.
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