​ I’m not someone you’d ever have called an optimist. Perennially attracted to dark things and sentiments, I scoffed at those who talked about being positive as idiotic Pollyannas. They annoyed the crap out of me, those people who couldn’t stomach the other side of the coin, those who were relentlessly positive to the point of ignoring the opposite. I also felt (and still do to an extent) that it’s important to understand the shadow so you can appreciate the light, rather than simply turning into it blindly and eschewing those dark parts of oneself. I definitely appreciated the term “toxic positivity” once came around, as I felt like so many of those annoying “think positive!” folks were swimming around in that. 
 
The older I get, the more curious I have become about actual, authentic positivity than I ever before. Don’t get me wrong – I still believe you need to make peace with all parts of yourself, make friends with your shadow. However, I’ve also come to believe “thinking positive!” isn’t all bullshit. 
 
It started in my 40’s, as perimenopause saw me suffering from raging insomnia – the kind where you fall asleep fine, but wake up two or three hours in and can’t fall back asleep. This went on for years. I felt very fortunate to live in a state that had legalized marijuana just prior to this milestone, and weed is one of the few things that reliably makes me fall asleep. But unfortunately, it’s the psychotropic stuff with the THC that works the best – which I don’t necessarily mind, but also, too much THC and the paranoia kicks in, sometimes to the point where I feel like it doesn’t matter what I do, I’m going to DIE RIGHT NOW. So trying to fall asleep was always a double-edged sword: on the one hand, weed makes me fall asleep, but on the other hand, if I don’t fall asleep right away I end up having to deal with my own anxiety monster amplified on the THC...which means I usually go down a fast and furious bad spiral, where I obsess on one thought and continue down the scary and horrible rabbit hole, and can’t sleep anyway.
 
Faced nightly with this “OH SHIT! I’m going to DIE!” feeling, the rational part of my psyche took over one night. I decided it wouldn’t hurt to try and spiral in a positive way, as the negative way was so jarring and frankly, exhausting. So my experiment was, initially, if I’m in a bad thought spiral, can I shift it the other way? And of course I answered myself with something like, “Right, you wanna be a stupid Pollyanna?” “No, I just want to get some sleep. So what if I’m being a stupid Pollyanna – what if it actually works?” “Yeah, but what if you go around, being all positive, and then you’re blindsided and you DIE?” I laughed, and said, “Well, at least I’ll die and not feel horrible while it happens, so maybe it’s a win-win?” My shadow self grudgingly agreed, and I tried it. That’s the thing I’ve noticed about my reaction to pot – once I obsess on a thought train, I usually follow it. What if I try obsessing on good things?
 
So one night, I tried it. I felt myself going down the familiar, dark path as I lay in the darkness, and saw what was happening, I course-corrected and made myself turn the thoughts around. What if I don’t die? What if I live, and tomorrow, have pancakes for breakfast? Oooh, do I want sweet or savory pancakes? Mmm, if I make savory pancakes, what kind? Shall I top them with sauteed mushrooms and bacon? Sour cream?
 
...and just like that, I started obsessing over what kind of delicious breakfast I’d have, and completely forgot about the dark spiral. As I mentioned above, I’ve always tended towards the more pessimistic turn of thought, so during this period, still often found my thoughts going dark first, but each time, once I recognized what was happening, I realized I had the choice to go the other way, and in the interest of sleep, I did. 
 
After a couple years of this, I realized my thoughts were actually something I could manage and have influence over. It was like a muscle I had learned how to build and flex. By and by, I discovered my thoughts were not even starting in the habitual dark place anymore, most of the time. This was a huge revelation, and another bonus after many years attempting meditation, I discovered that to be much easier upon trying again, because I’d already been working hard at managing my thoughts, and that managing my thoughts made many things SO MUCH EASIER – not just being able to sleep, but in general, my moods over the last couple of years are generally better and more even-keeled. I contemplate things before reacting, rather than just lashing out, which is especially useful on social media platforms, but also in real life, at work and with my friends & family. 
 
So, while I still despise “toxic” positivity, I’ve come around to see why turning your thoughts away from the abyss (even when you feel like you’re selling out!) is actually super beneficial to mental and emotional health, and that it’s okay, even in the face of the world feeling like it’s always on fire, not to always jump to gloom and doom. Even if we succumb to the darkness anyway, at least it wasn’t such a gloomy, anxiety-ridden slog arriving there. So there’s THAT. 

Someone posted a "dear bad theatre teacher" on social media today. I'm not going to share what they said, though it was totally valid, but it definitely got me thinking about the theatre teachers I've had in my life, and the varied and sometimes not-so-great experiences I had with them.

I think a LOT about the choir teacher who told me I couldn't sing at 13. To which I say: I was fucking thirteen! Maybe I didn't have the prettiest voice (we were all going through a whole lot hormonally at that age), but I've never not been able to carry a tune. The result of this was that it's really taken me until last year (so, 41 years), with the advent of not one but TWO different theatres inviting me to audition for their musicals, which I was subsequently cast in with actual leading roles/solos, and paid. Also, most folks who came to see them complimented my singing and of course, said they never knew I could sing. Yeah, it took me awhile to figure it out as well. 

I think a LOT about my high school theatre teachers, Jean and Carrie, and thank GOODNESS for them! Jean really gave me a good introduction to some different techniques & movement (like Meisner, theatre of the absurd, naturalism, etc) which I would come to know more deeply later on in my theatre education, and also was the first teacher to really attempt to teach us truthful acting. Carrie cast me in both shows she directed at Boulder High, and wrote me a glowing recommendation for college entrance, and really helped me hone whatever potential I may have had in those early days, as well as gave me an appreciation for Shakespeare most high school students didn't get.

I think about my teachers in my undergrad program. The musical theatre guy was very intent on my weight. If I had a good audition, he would ask, "Have you lost weight"? The first acting guy, though I responded to many of the things he had to say about art, was abusive and sexist. Basically, if you were a female actor, you fell into one of two categories: fuckable or unfuckable. I was the latter, so didn't receive much attention, but the rumors I heard from my more attractive co-students ranged from the eye-brow raising to the frankly, horrific and abusive. No one ever called him out. He played lots of mind games with everyone in the name of "tearing you down to build you back up". This is a thing lots of acting teachers liked to do back in the day. I think that style has fallen out of favor, at least, I hope so. The second acting guy was basically my savior in that program. He taught both sophomore acting as well as Theatre History, and both classes were stunning, and the cornerstone of my undergrad education...Theatre History was probably the best class I've ever taken in my life. He taught us how to think for ourselves and helped me start what I call my Actor's Toolkit, expanding on the Meisner work I'd done in high school. He made it okay that i was smart and also really interested in the intellectual/philosophical side of theatre/the arts. Had it not been for him, I'd have probably dropped out, or transferred. 

I think about the teachers I had in my grad program - mostly women who respected me as an artist, and through whom I really honed the artist I am today - a thoroughly contemporary actor/writer with a penchant to be highly influenced by my interest in and knowledge of classical work and mythology. I also think of some of the undergrad teachers I came into contact with who were telling so many of the undergrads similar things to what I'd heard, and did my best to call them out, and also impress upon my "pet" undergrads they didn't have to listen to what these teachers said, they could forge their own path, and the world was MUCH wider and vaster than Towson's BA theatre program. I wish I'd listened to my own advice a little more vigilantly.

I think about the teachers in the non-matriculated classes I've taken, mostly at Freehold Theatre. Althea, Rest In Peace, was really the first teacher to SEE me. Every time she cast me in a scene, it was as someone who I never, in my wildest dreams thought I'd ever get to play: Arcadian in The Seagull, Lady M in Macbeth, Helena in Midsummer Night's Dream. I thank my lucky stars she was my first teacher at Freehold. It was working with her where I first started to get a tiny inkling of what I might actually be capable of. I will miss her forever. While I have some personal issues with Robin, her Meisner Intensive is the best Acting class I've ever had...not only did she give us SO many tools to use, but instead of tearing anyone down, she was a practitioner of what I like to call The Compassionate Ass-Kick: she never let us get away with bullshit/laziness, but everything she did was about The Work itself, and though I always felt like she didn't like me, I never felt like I didn't get the best of her as a teacher. Kind of amazing, if you think about it. She is a gifted teacher. Then there was George, who I felt I learned the most from, but also arguably, in the area I had the furthest to go: Movement. I still feel very conflicted about my relationship with George. I learned so, SO much from him, (like, to the point where people have told me I move really well onstage and asked where I received my movement training) while the entire time being totally aware I was NOT his favorite student, he actually didn't care for me very much, and was CONSTANTLY tearing my work down. It's honestly HIS voice that's been in my head since I took his classes in the late 90's, HIS voice I've heard any time I get "too big for my britches" and try to aim "outside my league". 

I think about the other "teachers" I've had: like, reviews written, directors worked with, comments made to me at auditions and callbacks. I remember being at U/RTA (University/Resident Theatre Auditions) callbacks in Long Beach and having a rep from U of Minnesota tell me I needed to wear something that flattered my body more. Or a fellow undergrad student saying something like "Why would you cast her in this anyway? She'd more likely be the Nurse in Romeo & Juliet...no offense." or "She is Not Patti Smith...This is not a good play." 

While the good stuff is never not heard, the negative stuff always seems to scream louder, to stick with me. I've spent SO MUCH of my theatrical career giving more credence to the negative voices. Hence, one day, as I drove my 20-year-old fellow understudy for Village Theatre to the Everett location for our weekly viewing requirement, and she was telling me all these theatre (ACT! 5th Ave!) she had auditioned for since we'd last talked, my immediate internal thought was something like wow, that's audacious of her to assume she's of that calibre...and then my next thought was something like...but why? Why is it audacious? This is what she's trained for. This is what YOU've trained for. Why haven't you bothered to audition for these theatres? 

This was the beginning of a dialogue with myself that continues to this day, but has also started to loosen the hold the negative voices have had. In this day and age, it doesn't MATTER what size, orientation, race, ability, ethnicity, or even gender you are, in many cases. If you can do the work, you should do the work, and you should aim for what you want. Fuck those old teachers, reviewers, fellow students. YOU should be the arbiter/supporter of your own work and journey as much as you can - don't sabotage yourself because of someone else's limited imagination. Don't wait until you're my age to tell them to fuck off inside your head, either. 

As I left Hutchinson Hall on my way to the light rail last night I reflected on our rehearsal. Only three of us had been called - two student actors as well as myself (The Angel of Death!). I was waiting around a LOT as we treaded and re-treaded some of their scenes over and over again. And once we got to my stuff, basically anything I did was awesome. This has been the case throughout this rehearsal (which by the way is a senior student's capstone project, none of us are getting paid, it's totally a student production, but I'm loving it) - whatever I bring to the table is welcomed. And I was reflecting this is not so much that I'm "better" than the student actors, because I'm sure I likely was NOT at their age/experience level, but definitely has more to do with the experience level. I realized, with shock, I'm not a novice, and in fact, haven't been on in a very long time. I've done the 20 plus years now, George, so you can shut the fuck up in my head.