The acting conservatory in New York, which I’ve mentioned countless times, is something I almost threw away. At one point, I actually quit. It bordered on being emotionally damaging and I didn’t allow anyone in my world to offer the support I needed. I will own my part in all of this. I was being pushed harder than I ever had been, by someone who wasn’t willing to be gentle. For better or worse, people have treated me gently for most of my life. I haven’t figured out if it’s because I look fragile or if I bring that out in people or something else entirely. It’s still a bit of a conundrum. But, for maybe the first time, the hope or expectation that I was going to receive gentle feedback was obliterated. I was told in front of a room of people (and I am paraphrasing) that being sweet wasn’t going to cut it - I had more in me. It was an odd thing because fear wasn’t the only thing I felt at that embarrassing moment. I felt relief. Relief bubbled up inside of me. Plus, per usual, I was holding back part of myself and probably had been doing so for a chunk of time.
Now, you’re probably reading this and thinking, Okay, but why did you almost quit then? Yep, good question. That was within the first couple of weeks of this rigorous program, where many of us (students) were working full-time jobs, going to school, and in my case, learning a new city. And at 31 years old, I was one of the older people in the room. So with quitting, It was a combination of exhaustion, grief, and honestly not feeling good enough / tough enough. My feedback in class was brutal. And I wasn’t an outlier in that - we all were struggling. That’s part of it. I won’t get into all the details of this specific acting technique, but there’s a part of it that requires you to de-socialize your behaviors. Tear you down so you can be built back up and react to things that the socialized world (especially the South) would deem inappropriate behavior or too reactive. I didn’t have much grace for my instructor either. He didn’t let up and it eventually got to me. I think what happened was that I finally got pissed and decided that it wasn’t worth it. I wrote the school to tell them and even mailed my teacher a letter. What ended up coming up while writing that letter was frustration but also gratitude. I went ahead and mailed it, then told my classmates. About a week later, a friend from Nashville was in NYC for a role he booked on a tv show. We grabbed a beer one night and I recapped everything. He told me that it sounded like I was being pushed in a way that was giving me strength, not just as an actor, but as a person and I was resisting it. He challenged me to really think about what I wanted before completely walking away. It was direct and incredibly helpful. Over the next couple of days, I prayed and journaled a lot.
I set up an appointment to meet with the teacher. When the day arrived, I discovered what manic felt like. I had not figured out what I wanted to do (I had) and was terrified (of failing). To wrap up a long story, the meeting was something I will never forget. My teacher had my letter and talked to me about it. He was generous about my words, my acting…about me. I was honest about all my feelings. He offered me my spot back and I took it. What I’d thrown away was dug up out of the trash and washed clean. There’s more but I’ll leave it here. Those classmates and my instructor saw parts of who I am that I’m not sure anyone had seen or has since. The experience was brutal and I’ve got wounds from it. The gains though were worth every bit of it.
