The Dam Breaks

If you knew that you would find a truth that brings up pain that can't be soothed, would you change? Would you change? - Tracy Chapman

I had a good day today. The media call for Little Martyrs was well attended and I was proud of my work from a publicist's stand point.

After our dinner break, we resumed rehearsal where we had left off the day before. For one particular scene, I had pretty much been doing the same thing over and over for the last week. The director flat out told me that it was boring and to do something else. I did. It didn't work. I tried again. Still nothing. I was getting frustrated. Finally, the director said "why don't you let us know what's going on." I froze, my brain desperately trying to figure out what that meant, so I did the first thing that came to my gut in order to shut it up: I screamed.

That's when the dam broke and it all came rushing out. That's when I finally fell into the last half of the play. That's when I did the good work.

By the end of it all, I felt incredibly raw and, yes, vulnerable. More than anything, I wanted to be able to go out for a drink. Or maybe smoke? The doctor didn't say not to smoke, right? Sigh. Perhaps sensing it, my stage dad came over and gave me a big hug, which I totally needed and appreciated. Still, I was itching for something, anything to drown out and/or numb all this... feeling.

And that's when I heard that little voice, the good one, the true one, my inner artist's voice and it said: "Hey. How about we just sit in this for a while and see where that gets us?"

So I took a breath and I said ok. I popped my headphones in and I let the music carry me down the mountain. I let myself be soothed and chill out. Tomorrow, we begin again.