Lunacy Me, Now You Don't

She smelled like cold cream and rosewater, and I leaned into the smell rolling off of her from the bus seat ahead of me. Dressed in white head coverings, she and five other people, family members I presume, hopped off the bus heading to Sunday morning worship. They were glowing. My mind brought me back to earlier days of Catholic Mass, when I was encouraged to wear a lace veil, praising under raised ceilings that echoed in such a manner that it was hard to believe that the entire town couldn’t hear our chants and hymnal responses. I won’t speak to the hardships of growing up in a devout Christian world, rather to the elements that have left a hole behind when they went.  I’m currently rehearsing a show called Love Sick , to be performed at Theater J , which is located inside the Edlavitch Jewish Community Center of DC. In a neighborhood brimming with churches, Sunday makes for quite the walk to work. Yesterday was at a high of 95, feeling like 102, and folks had every w...

Today I found squash in my bra. Then I found a grain of rice in my hair. And no, it was not because I passed out in my food again. I left work and drove away from the house containing an eighteen-month-old boy who is discovering what emotional spikes are, and as I reached in my shirt and picked out a piece of buttercup squash (yes, “cup”, not “nut”...less common, very delish)..once I picked out a piece of buttercup squash off my chest, I couldn’t help but recollect my own journey with anger and button pushing. My younger brothers can attest to the fact that I’ve always been easily, mm, let’s say “provoked”. Or, triggered, because this is, after all, a blog where we talk mental health. As far back as I can remember, I experienced sudden spikes of emotion. Teenagers are used to this, because at sixteen years old, a girl’s testosterone levels are at the highest they’ll ever be. Around that age? What a wild damn ride. And generally, we all experience these throughout our lives bec...

Picture yourself as a kid, and you’ve experienced a really great weekend, like a family reunion, or something? All your cousins were there, everyone running around, laughing, and eating food off the grill. Maybe you were the family that hosted it that year, and finally the time comes for everyone to pack into their cars and drive back to their respective homes. Maybe it’s only a short drive away, but the last car pulls out of the drive and you get a feeling like a gut punch. You don’t understand the waves of emotion rolling over your tiny mind. You were just in heaven not three hours ago! Is it melancholy? Is it loneliness? Is it the first realization that all good things must come to an end? Maybe you cry, hug your mom, and wonder when the feeling of sadness will go away (give it 30 minutes and a VHS tape). You were surrounded not too long ago, and now the dust is settling and it’s just you and your immediate family again. Everything is quiet and you are left. You.  I...

My first sip of coffee each morning is done looking through the window over the sink in the kitchen. It doesn’t matter which house, because most homes I’ve lived in, save for one, have had a window directly over or next to the kitchen sink. I did this while living in our rented farmhouse last year surrounded by fields and cows. There was a trailer park next door, where we got to know the most wonderful dog named Jericho, and his owner. One of the RV’s constantly called an ambulance, like every two weeks, but the workers seemed calm, as if it were a time-honored tradition (against their will). Another trailer housed two black labradors and an owner who warned other dogs not to get too close, even when crossing through your yard (property’s a construct anyway). The trailer behind that had a wooden fence that echoed the sounds of premature teenage fits from a 9-year-old boy, directed at his mother in regards to playing or retiring for the evening.  This morning tradition of taki...

Vacation is leaving something one previously occupied. The act of vacating is used as a refresher and a means to get away from work and responsibilities. Mental chores, on the other hand, cannot be left at the kennel or stored at the post office for two weeks time. You can’t run away from your mind, at least not for long. Our “things” come traipsing right along with us, with vacating merely allowing us to stand beyond spitting distance with heightened clarity to assess. What clarity have I found, you ask? Well, pretty clear skin, some clear ocean water, and a clear need for connection. #needy While traveling with my mom, I’ve been working on a math problem, long-form answer. Who are we as people separate from what we do? Work, relationships, hobbies. See, as an artist, I find this difficult to answer. As an actor, you’re often seen as who you play onstage, the way your voice sounds, and the shapes your body cuts when you dance. A romantic notion, but when you come home at nigh...