Everybody's free to feel good

Tomorrow marks two momentous occasions: my first yoga practice in over six weeks and my first MadLab Christmas.

I was terrified to take on this Roulette role. I never thought I would be able to allow myself to be gutsy enough to pantomime having sex onstage. The idea scared the shit out of me, but I couldn't see a reason not to take on the challenge. It was a tough rehearsal process, opening up, exposing myself in such a way... but I kept at it and I like to think I found my stride. But the best bit has been acting with my husband. This play, the intimacy, the honesty - it has opened up our relationship in little ways I would have thought  weren't possible after almost nine years of marriage. I am unbelievably grateful.

Just a mere year ago, I was an incredibly unhappy person. Unfulfilled, frustrated, over-worked, under-appreciated, and my talents as an actress were simply not being utilized. I felt I was not valued anywhere and that no one truly appreciated me. Now, I'm overwhelmed by the roles being offered to me - the opportunities to stretch myself and grow I had been longing for. My marriage is happier, my friends are true.

I missed 6 weeks of yoga due to unfortunate, unforeseen circumstances. I don't regret my choices, but I regret the impact missing practice for so long has had on my body. Admittedly, I'm pretty scared to go tomorrow - I'd hoped to have some moral support, but perhaps it's better this way. Yoga is about inner strength, sometimes it's a good thing to take something on by yourself.

You will look for me, and I'll be gone

On a couple of occasions I have been in the final relaxation pose of a particularly grueling yoga class and sudden found myself almost in tears for various reasons. Last time it happened it was a joyful recognition of all the wonderful people and opportunities I have in my life. Tonight was very different. 

Lying there in savasana, completely relaxed, suddenly moments from She's Dead floated into my all - all of the most painful moments: Judy yelling at Erin about her funeral plan on Christmas, Sam saying his love for her will live on until the heart of the ocean drowns, Judy saying "Goodbye my sweet baby."  It didn't quite bring me to tears, but it was very overwhelming. 

As I packed up and left the studio, I was calm. I wondered why that had come to me like that. Then as I turned on the car and plugged in my iphone, the shuffle, brought up the last song of the show. The song which began as Erin was covered with a sheet and carried out by her loved ones. That was too much. I sobbed, alone in the car - feeling as though all the tears which I couldn't let myself crying during performances (since corpses don't cry!) were suddenly forcing themselves to the surface.

I don't get post-show depression, I just get depressed when I'm not acting and fortunately I have two roles on deck right now. There are some shows I miss longer than others, and this may very well be one that takes a bit to get over, but I have never physically grieved for a show before. It was unnerving and surreal.

No day but today

Since my first theatrical production at 13 I've hated the end of a run. There's something slightly devastating about letting go of this person - these people who have become so much a part of you, even if it's just been a few short months. It's been 20 years since that first audition and I have learned to let go, but I wouldn't say that it has ever become easy for me, although some shows are harder than others.

Tonight I will say goodbye to Erin. A character I knew I wanted to play when I first read the script almost year ago, one I was thrilled to be cast in, and one I have fully enjoyed portraying. Erin is endearing, funny, joyful, and so very caring - and the cast is one I'm lucky to have had the pleasure to work with. So despite my intense excitement at the two roles I am just beginning to rehearse, I'm already finding myself sad to see Erin go.

I hope the new people I have met will keep in contact, but as Erin's boyfriend says, "I don't know. I really don't know what's going to happen." So instead of focusing on the voice in my head reminding me that after tonight the next time I walk into the theatre we will have already moved on to our next production - there will be no Titantic, no deathbed, no thermostat, no front door, or fabulous painted floor, I'm trying to focus on today. Tonight, there will be nothing but joy.

Erin wouldn't want a tearful goodbye.