In the midst of playing Mrs. Lovett in a local production of "Sweeney Todd", I made a blog promise to myself that I would delve into the shadier side of my brain for awhile. My hope is that those that read it will understand a bit more about what having a mental illness means, at least to one human being out there, and that I may gain a bit more insight at the same time.
I mention the production of "Sweeney Todd" because it was an incredible experience, but more importantly the trigger to the re-visiting of the "old days", the days when Laura couldn't get her ass out of bed for more than 2 hours at a time. The days when I would spend more time in my bedroom than anywhere else in the world. I can still vividly see my husband's face and defeated demeanor as he left for another day of work at noontime, leaned over me, kissed me on the cheek, and said "Try your hardest to get out of bed for a little while today."
The setting for "Sweeney Todd" was Fogg's Asylum, one of the places of action for the story itself, and through the opening number, the inmates of the asylum (our cast) would slowly tell the story, and become the characters of the story. When our director first told me of the setting, I was intrigued and scared out of my mind. The "pre-show" was going to be a day in the asylum, with members of the cast dragging onto the stage and portraying mental patients for a good 15-20 minutes before the opening number. I would be one of those patients. My mind immediately flashed to the many common rooms of psych wards I'd been in. There was Caritas Carney, Emerson Hospital, McLean, Pembroke, Bayridge, Holy Family, Mass General. I saw patients young and old, with all manner of mental illness, and saw the mannerisms I could portray. How would I play this? Loud? Quiet? Creepy? Desperate?
My mother is an incredibly wise woman, who once said to me "Your illness is like a friend you'll never get rid of. Sometimes it's living in the next town, and sometimes it's got a hand in your back pocket. But it's yours, Laura. No one else's."
So I was Laura. I walked out on that stage and felt myself slip into that old skin. It was frightening. It scared me because I didn't know if I'd be able to get myself out of it again.
But I did.... and went on to sing the hell out of a great show. And that, gentle reader, is what made all the difference. ;)
I mention the production of "Sweeney Todd" because it was an incredible experience, but more importantly the trigger to the re-visiting of the "old days", the days when Laura couldn't get her ass out of bed for more than 2 hours at a time. The days when I would spend more time in my bedroom than anywhere else in the world. I can still vividly see my husband's face and defeated demeanor as he left for another day of work at noontime, leaned over me, kissed me on the cheek, and said "Try your hardest to get out of bed for a little while today."
The setting for "Sweeney Todd" was Fogg's Asylum, one of the places of action for the story itself, and through the opening number, the inmates of the asylum (our cast) would slowly tell the story, and become the characters of the story. When our director first told me of the setting, I was intrigued and scared out of my mind. The "pre-show" was going to be a day in the asylum, with members of the cast dragging onto the stage and portraying mental patients for a good 15-20 minutes before the opening number. I would be one of those patients. My mind immediately flashed to the many common rooms of psych wards I'd been in. There was Caritas Carney, Emerson Hospital, McLean, Pembroke, Bayridge, Holy Family, Mass General. I saw patients young and old, with all manner of mental illness, and saw the mannerisms I could portray. How would I play this? Loud? Quiet? Creepy? Desperate?
My mother is an incredibly wise woman, who once said to me "Your illness is like a friend you'll never get rid of. Sometimes it's living in the next town, and sometimes it's got a hand in your back pocket. But it's yours, Laura. No one else's."
So I was Laura. I walked out on that stage and felt myself slip into that old skin. It was frightening. It scared me because I didn't know if I'd be able to get myself out of it again.
But I did.... and went on to sing the hell out of a great show. And that, gentle reader, is what made all the difference. ;)
<3 And sing the hell out of it you did! =)
ReplyDeleteYou are a very brave woman, my friend. I've been to McLean too. (Nothing like having your dental floss confiscated.) Your mother is indeed wise. I like that analogy.
ReplyDeleteI have to tell you, I especially enjoyed you in the moments before the opening number. I saw you standing there, looking around, and you weren't physically doing much, because you didn't have to. Your presence was magnificent. You were magnificent, as yourself, and in the role. I can't wait to see your next theatrical endeavor.
Keep it up! Love You!
Lydian
I admire you a great deal!
ReplyDelete