the power of one.

Sometimes doing something for someone else is all it takes to help yourself feel better. I decided to do a mission today as part of the Secret Agent L Project. It's been quite a while since I've done a mission. Go on over and take a look!

Happy Friday, my darlings.

and so it begins.

I didn't count them exactly, but I'm pretty sure I have about 4,309 lines. That means I probably have about 83,205 words to learn.

That's a lot of words.

Last night, after I went to see a movie {note to self: don't go see Friends with Benefits when you're currently missing the love of your life}, I came home, sat on the couch in my underwear, devoured a piece of Oreo Cookie cake and studied my lines until almost midnight. I managed to learn about a page and a half, which is a pretty good start, considering we haven't even really started on-stage rehearsals yet {that comes next week}. This weekend I'm going to get serious. I have nothing else planned. Just me, my couch, my script, and maybe some more Oreo Cookie cake. Or at least some black cherry bourbon.

I'm excited about this show, about getting back on stage again where I have always felt a serenity, a peace, a freeing sensation. Maybe it's the escape from the real world. Maybe it's the hours away from the hard stuff of life. Maybe it's learning about a character's life and seeing the duplicity within it. Whatever it is, it's healing for me. I'm thankful I don't really get stage fright. I'm thankful that I can get up in front of people and do things. And once those lights hit, their heat radiating into my skin, my heart starts to pump true life through me. The warmth of those lights and the wall of darkness on the other side of them--the audience--makes me feel like I'm in a cocoon, where all is safe and in my control. 

It's kind of weird, actually. I think that in my real life, when I'm not on stage, I carry within me all the hurt and burdens and aching of my life. But when I get on stage, I have permission to let it all go. To channel it through the life of a character. To release those burdens that weigh down my heart. I can scream on stage. I can yell. I can raise my voice. I can cry. I can stomp and run and push and shove and grab and cling. {I will have to do all of those things in this show, and, quite frankly, I'm looking forward to the catharsis.}

I spend my lunch hour learning my lines. I sit outside in front of my building and I nibble, recite, nibble, recite, lather, rinse, repeat. And it feels so normal to me. So authentic. {How ironic that I feel authentic when I'm pretending to be someone else. What does that say about me? My life? My heart?} Both food and words sustain me, each in different ways.

{enter stage right.}

In my former life, I was a stage actress. And by "former," I mean "roughly a decade ago." I was a theatre major-turned-professional. I acted in more plays than I can even count. Here in Pittsburgh. And in London. {Yes! London!}  And then life happened: jobs, bills, responsibilities I couldn't skirt, etc. And so my life as a stage actress came to a screeching halt. Luckily, my life as an actress didn't. I'd been with an agency since I was 19 years old, and I was able to continue doing on-camera work and voice over jobs occasionally. It was good.

And then the depression came. Like a bomb. I could hardly get out of bed some days, let alone fathom the idea of acting on stage again. It's true what they say about depression: that it robs you of all the things you used to love. 

But the light has started to return a little. And, as a result, I'm starting to think that maybe, just maybe, I'm finding my heart's heart again. In fact, I actually have proof that I am.  Do you know how I know this?

I've been cast in a show.

Yes. I have.

I auditioned this past weekend for a production of Shakespeare's Measure for Measure, and I have been given the honor of playing the role of Isabella, which is a pretty substantial role. 

And I am so excited.

I'm a stage actress once again.

The production is at Duquesne University at the end of September. It's the theatre company's alumni show, which means that any alums from Duquesne can audition for the show. It's a wonderful way of keeping the tradition of the theatre company alive throughout generations, and I am honored beyond words to have been invited back. I'll be working with my all-time favorite director, John Lane, and I feel confident that the forthcoming experience may very well bring a huge part of me back to life.

THE DEETS:

Sept. 29, 30, and Oct. 1
Oct. 6, 7, and 8
8 p.m.

Peter Mills Theatre, Duquesne University
$5 for students
$10 for adults
FREE with Duquesne or Carlow University IDs

deep thoughts at 4:30 a.m.

from here

You're not gonna believe this. I mean, I can hardly even believe I'm about to type it. So, brace yourself. Ready?

I'm thinking of leaving the Catholic Church.

{I'll give you a minute to regain your composure.}

So, it's late in the day today, which means I'm not going to delve into this in a big way right now, but it just might be a topic I start to cover in some of my future posts. But I will provide you with some itty-bitty detail of how I came to the position I now find myself in.

My mom.

If you've read my blog for some time, you know that my mom is mentally ill. And one of the ways her mental illness rears its ugly head is through an unhealthy obsession with Catholicism. Basically, my mom believes every. single. thing. the Catholic Church teaches, and there is, in her eyes, absolutely no gray area whatsoever. Everything is absolute and black-and-white.

And it hurts my heart.

And lately, there have a been a few passing comments I've made, to which she, in turn, has added her own comments, and it all came to a head this morning at 4:30 when I woke up and couldn't stop thinking about it all. I almost threw up.

Recently, I mentioned that I might want to start yoga.

To which my mother replied that it's against Catholic teaching, that it's spiritually dangerous, and something that non-Christians invented.

To which I cringed and wanted to rip out her tongue.  {What? Too much?}

I mentioned that my dear friend from grad school was very worried that she wouldn't be able to carry a child due to chronic medical conditions she has and that I would be her surrogate in a heartbeat if it meant that she could have a baby.

To which my mother replied, "Oh, no! Laura! No, no! That's up to God! If it's His will..." blah blah blah 

To which I almost hung up the phone on her immediately.

The list goes on and on. So I did some research. And it is true, unfortunately, that the Catholic Church is against both of these things I mention (among a bazillion other things). It's not like I didn't know that the Catholic Church had strict teachings on some topics, but I think I just decided to ignore them. But now, I feel like I can't. And it's eating me up inside.

Like gay rights.
Like women's rights.

Like marriage rights.
Like contraceptive rights.
Like surrogacy rights.
Like women as priests.

Like a bazillion other things that the Church is so against. And I just want to throw up.

But there are so many things I love about the Catholic Church. And so I'm torn. Someone on Twitter today mentioned that maybe this isn't a faith issue with me but, instead, a parent issue. That could be it. Maybe I have to remind myself that I am my own woman, my own human, my own Catholic. My faith isn't going to be a cookie-cutter image of my mother's (THANK GOODNESS), nor does it have to be. But part of me thinks I need to take a closer look and see if I really CAN continue to be Catholic.

Ugh. Religion. It's so exhausting.

I'm gonna go eat a donut.

walk hard.

Remember that time I was rully brave {um, yesterday} and told even more of the world about my struggle with depression? And remember that time all these amazing, beautiful people left comments about their own struggles? And remember how those amazing, beautiful people showed me {and you} that there are so many of us struggling and that we're not alone?

Yeah. That was an amazing time.

And now, I want to make it even more amazing.

I'm currently on the Board of Directors for the National Alliance on Mental Illness {NAMI} Southwestern PA. My mom has been living with schizoaffective disorder since I was 10-years-old {going on 23 years now}. You can read about her struggles here. Be prepared: you'll need Kleenex. Lots of it.

A few years ago, I created a team to walk in NAMI's annual walk. We called ourselves Team Laura's Mom. Our t-shirts were pretty badass, huh?

This year? I'm doin' it again, y'all. Only this year's team is Team Secret Agent L. And I want YOU to join me.

That's right. I just asked you to do something.

Now, I know many of you won't be able to actually join the team and walk with me {and, subsequently, wear an equally awesome t-shirt, which I am in the process of designing, and which YOU WILL LOVE}. BUT. Do you think you might be able to give up that Starbucks latte some morning and donate the moolah to this important cause instead?

Yup. Less than $5. It'd make a difference. I promise.

Now. If you want to join my team, you can do so here. {DO IT. DO IT. DO IT.}

If you just want to give some of your dolla' dolla' bills, y'all, then you can do so here. {ALSO DO IT. DO IT. DO IT.}

And if you feel like spreading the word, go ahead and link this post out to anyone and everyone in all manner of ways.

I will love you forever.  True story.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

take a little hop on over.

I decided to be really brave today and go public with my battle with depression. Hop on over to the Secret Agent L Project and have a read.

I'm seeing the tiniest bit of light, everyone.  Thank you for being beside me while I walk towards it.

disappearing act. {but just for a few days.}

You know what I love? Four-day weekends. I've decided to take a vacation day tomorrow because the university where I work is closed next Monday. I know, right?! FOUR-DAY WEEKEND. BOOM. Sleeping in, jammies all day, breakfast for dinner {a.k.a. "brinner"}, etc. So, I'm gonna take a little break from this here blog, hide out a bit, and return next week.

And I just might take advantage of the above disguise kit while I'm at it. {You can, too, if you like.}

Enjoy your weekends, my darlings. I'm off to enjoy the fact that my depression has lifted ever-so-slightly.

Smooches.

p.s. This? Oh, yes. You simply MUST. I promise.