Dear Mr. Rosan

My play opened last week. Well. Not MY play written by me, but the play I'm performing in at the moment. Its been a healing experience, this play. Despite the fact that my character is dealing with a lot of personal loss--she's kind of a Pollyana. She loves her husband unconditionally, never argues with him or does anything to make him feel less of a man i=even if it means starving to death, she thinks only good things about even the worst people and she always solves the problems...yeah...she's like person I wish I was in real life. Everyone in the cast keeps telling me "wow, you're such a nice person." No, actually, Ruth Hartmann (the character I'm portraying) is such a nice person.

People in the cast also keep mixing up me and the girl playing my little sister in the play. The drummer went up to her and said, "You know that scene where you tell your husband....(insert here what it is...no spoilers for those coming to see the show)...that is a great scene. Its really good." and she was like, "That's Lydia. I play her sister. But thank you anyway." Or I was warming up and she was in the dressing room and one of the other cast members was like "weren't you just warming up?" and she goes, "No. That would be Lydia." and even our pastor! Who KNOWS me very well went up to her and congratulated her and then realized it was not me at all. She could pass for my sister. Which is good for the play.

I have two scenes with her. In our second scene I tell her basically I'm going to take care of her. I say, "Hush. You're my sister." And it hits me everytime. This blonde haired woman--younger than me, crying out for help and "what am I gonna do?" and I tell her "everything is gonna be okay. Because we're family. And family sticks together."

Some of my Gilda's Club friends showed up on Saturday's performance. All wearing red and sitting in the front row. And G (who has also lost her sister) came up and said, "that moment when you say 'you're my sister' i just knew that was hard for you." and Alex (actor playing my sister) said the same thing. She texted me about maybe reworking the scene...saying..."what must I be doing to you?" but I assured her I was able to separate. And I am. Most of the time I am.

The thing is...in my acting, my work has always been revolved around my family. Every moment of worth I've ever had was because of some deep experience I've had with my father, my mother, or my sisters Danielle and Maura. All I have to do is see my father's face or feel my mother's body rocking me to sleep and I am transported (for lack of a better word) to a place where every thought and emotion that comes out of me while playing a scene is real, is deep, is intense and is filled with love.

My last year of school when Maura was sick, I had struggled with finding other ways into the work because I could not use my family. My father's hands, my mother's chest, my sisters smile...it all brought me to hospitals and tests and blood being drawn...and I couldn't even speak because the emotions were overwhelming. And in fact in my line of study, the sages of the theater have a strong rule of 7 years in the past. Do not use traumatic experiences until 7 years.

Which is hard when you are dealing with a character built on loss. She may be positive but her positivity was born from her reaction to a huge loss of someone very dear to her. And its hard when I have a beautiful and funny woman playing my little sister, asking me for help. 7 years is very hard.

I manage. I'm not perfect. If it hits too close to home...rather than use it, my gift shuts down. I become stone cold. No emotion. Not one type of emotion will cross my icy face and betray me because if even one line were to crease, one inch of my nose were to start stinging, I would lose my shit. And I have before. In rehearsals. Lost it. Had to Macaroni. (God bless Mark Lewis and the safe word Macaroni--means game over no more with no judgement. My director liked it so much she taught the whole cast about macaroni)

But I don't want to shortchange the production either. I wanna be there. Fully present. Give what I have to give to breath life into Ruth--this beautiful (even if she is perfect) woman I have the honor of playing. But it has been a battle of how much is too much? How far can I push myself without abusing myself? Am I raping my memories of my family just for good art? How much can I give and not have an emotional breakdown? I don't know. I don't know the answers to any of these questions. I just know I'm doing good work. I'm working and in the work I have found a lot of joy. when I'm at rehearsal or on stage I feel the most joy (even if I'm crying in a scene) it is the MOST joy I have felt in

The play is kind of like Its a Wonderful Life. Its the playwrights first full length play. Its not bad. I think she should keep working on stuff. Its got some good original music written by a fellow Houstonian as well. Its a nice show. I wish I knew what it was like from an audience perspective.