Posts Tagged ‘tough stuff’

You Don’t Want To Read This Blog.

Saturday, April 13th, 2013

Guys, I’ve had fucking enough.

Two. Two suicides recently of teenage girls who have suffered unspeakable things. Worse than that, in trying to move through what happened to them, their communities around them let them down in unspeakable ways by questioning, blaming, and dismissing what happened to them. I don’t even have words to describe what they likely went through – and even if I did, most people would not understand.
These events followed another widely-publicized suicide last year of a victim of extreme bullying. And these are only the few that we know of. How many more have died silently without anyone in the media taking notice?

Let me tell you something about suicide and self-harm from someone’s who been there and has learned to quiet – not silence, but calm and lull into submission – the urges. At the core, any serious self-harm is an outlet: for feelings, for sorrow, for emptiness and darkness, for loneliness, for fear, for that unshakeable lump in your throat… for anything so intense that it can’t be put into words, and even if there were words there’s a huge risk of being misunderstood. Of being abused again. Of being marginalized, isolated, and judged. The embarassment and trauma of being labeled a self-harmer and/or being put away in a psych ward is often worse than the original behaviour.

Anne Sexton calls the desire to harm or kill oneself “the most unnameable lust”, and that is probably the most accurate description I have ever heard. It’s not a natural lust, it’s a learned one. The learning comes from trauma and abuse, whether mental or physical or both. Sometimes genetics are a factor, admittedly, but they’re not the only factor. Without going into the hard science of it, suffice to say that a serious trauma (such as a rape) combined with increased bullying is going to overload the brain, especially when allies are few and far between. Like a puppy separated from its family and kicked repeatedly, chemically speaking someone in that situation would be nearly devoid of any of the “good” chemicals, and have ones like adrenaline and cortisol flooding in. And logically, that’s going to trigger extreme behaviours.

Most people can’t understand why others commit suicide, because they’ve never had that special brain cocktail. And I pray to whatever higher power may be listening that those people never experience extreme trauma and that suicide doesn’t become even more of an epidemic than it already is. (Which is not to say that I don’t agree with assisted suicide in cases like terminal illness. But that’s a whole other discussion.) My point is that those girls – and certainly countless others – were so isolated, so abused, so shamed, so vulnerable, and in so much pain that death was their only option to make all of the voices stop. I understand how the urge to die works, because I have fucking been there. I’ve been through enough trauma that I’ve kept my back pressed to the wall and legs glued to the floor as I stared down subway trains… but at the end of the day, I’m not good at quitting, and apparently that extends to quitting life. So, in that respect, I guess I’m lucky.

They say that suicides are either under- or over- stated. Hanging oneself at home, or anything done in private, is an understatement. Anything that happens publicly where many others are likely to be impacted is an overstatement. One thing I’m sick of hearing is that suicide is a selfish act. It may be selfish, but the hard truth is that we as a society have become so selfish that we don’t seem to notice or care when someone else is struggling. Like a pack of animals we think only of tearing down the weak and vying for alpha leadership.

And I’m done. I’m done with being selfish and with letting this happen to young women. Done with letting young men believe that rape and death are acceptable to inflict on anyone. This goes both ways; recently in my city, a young man was raped by four women. I find this just as appalling and I hope those women are caught. Here’s the thing though – punishment and fear are just going to lead to more of the same. And I’m fucking tired of our society being caught in a broken loop where we create broken people.

So, I’m starting something new: set-me-free.org (it’s currently in development). I believe we can be free of rape culture, free of abuse, free of bullying, free of gender issues, free of eating disorders, free of the desire to harm ourselves. I need to let those suffering out there know that they are not alone. And I need your help. I’m running an Indiegogo Campaign to get the site up and running and to start reaching out to schools and social networking sites to build partnerships. Please help spread the word; share this blog post if you want. I don’t want anyone else to follow the siren call of “that unnameable lust.”

Dear Bartender…

Friday, June 29th, 2012

I am (almost) sorry, upon some reflection.

You see, for me as an actor tonight, I killed it. I nailed it to the fucking wall and I slit its throat and drained it dry of blood. And I unapologetically loved every second of that.

I’m too real for Hollywood. I’ve said that before and I’ll say it again. I refuse to play “pretty” girls and I am happiest when I am madly in love with a project and its people and I am in over my head. I get a little method, and I go to darker places whenever I can and I care too fucking much about everything and everyone, and nothing makes me happier than when it’s all more real than reality and we are making a beautiful mess.

And that’s what happened tonight, when me as a character was indistinguishable from a “real” person. And I made someone so viscerally angry at that ‘betrayal’ that they reduced me to tears in their own indignation, after they told me something highly personal. But you know what? That other person was an actor too, and they should have fucking known better.

Me as a person? I get it. I get that pain, and like I told you in person I don’t betray other people’s secrets. But that other person also crossed a fucking line that I didn’t see coming – and that threw me for a serious loop. Whatever they brought to it – their own pain, their own bitterness at acting defeats, their apparent shame… that is their problem, not mine. Because I did my job, and I did it so well that it was seamless enough to con another con artist. And for that, I’m proud. I did my job well.

At the end of it? My people picked my ass up and we carried on – and that trust is the greatest feeling in the world. That is why I will continue to act: to tell these stories and to move people, and to be a part of more. Give me a challenge and I’m going to push at it twice as hard, no matter what shit people talk. Backing down or quitting is not in my repetoire.

And at the end of it all, I left the character and went and played pinball and ate octopus balls with my fiance, because that is an Emily thing and I’m more than my past experiences and my work and my people. So, bartender, I hope that you find the same thing someday and that you get over “being on stage.” Because I would rather just be, whatever that means in a particular moment.

swish

ETA: I just realized that this blog post made it sound like someone within the project upset me. That’s not the case. It was a complete stranger who was in the public space where we were performing (and this other person, who was actually bartending, also happened to be an actor) who was clearly triggered by my performance. It’s a lot to think about, but at the end of it, I refuse to see any fault in my giving a good performance.

Why I’m an Actorvist now… (or, to hell and back.)

Thursday, May 31st, 2012

Remember how when we were little that we were taught to go to a policeman if we were in trouble? That we could count on them for help and protection? As an adult who gets paid to pretend for a living, I just can’t buy into that anymore.

Those of you who’ve followed my blog for awhile have seen all sorts of ups and downs from me, and a good few posts about domestic violence and my own brush with it. How and why to get out of those dangerous situations. What I’ve been public about – until now – is only the tip of the iceberg of my recent ordeal.

I’ve already gone over how my ex, Declan, held me by the throat and made me beg to be let go, how he sliced open my arm with a pocketknife and that I’m permanetly physically scarred from that. How I tried to report him to the police and the officer I spoke with was apathetic to my suffering and chose not to believe me. I’ve told a lot of people about this. I have evidence and witnesses to prove that he’s done these things. I’ve suffered panic attacks and post-traumatic stress disorder from the way I was treated. And I thought I was over all that, finally.

I thought I was over all that until my ex found out that I was engaged to my wonderful fiance, and began to ramp up the harassment once more. Disgusted with his behaviour, I spoke to a lawyer who pointed me to a Justice of the Peace, who told me how to lay a private information. I was thrilled to have someone who was able to see the truth, and who was willing to help me press charges against my abusive ex. Silly me, I thought justice may actually be fair and right after all.

I was so very wrong. Our current justice system is SO skewed that I was ARRESTED – yes, arrested – for reporting the domestic violence I survived. I was arrested by Detective Leslie Morris of 22 Division of the Toronto Police Services, the same officer who didn’t believe me when I’d first tried to report my ex over a year ago. I saw her show up at court and act very amicably with my ex prior to everything happening, and at the time I wondered why she was there. I found out soon enough. The real kicker is that I was arrested at the courthouse when I was supposed to provide evidence against my ex, and the way in which she arrested me prevented me from doing so.

Further to that, despite me having no prior criminal record, I was held overnight for a bail hearing. I was also fingerprinted, photographed, and strip-searched. It was February when I was arrested, and the police took my coat, shoes, and bra – leaving me freezing in a cell with only a thin sweater, skirt, and stockings. Needless to say, the way in which I was arrested and treated, and Detective Morris’ comment of “I told you I’d arrest you if you kept speaking out” made the PTSD and panic attacks re-emerge, hardcore. I had such a bad panic attack while being held in jail that I passed out and hit my head off the floor. Despite repeated calls for help, I believe I was left for about a half-hour without anyone checking in on me. Finally, someone called an ambulance, but the panic attacks have continued for the past three months again.

The one ‘upside’ to being arrested is that you get what’s called disclosure when you go to court – you get to see what the other party is saying about you if you’ve been charged with a crime. What I saw from Detective Morris was that despite me describing to her in detail about being choked, she didn’t mention it in her police report. Not even once. What I saw was that she provided a very unflattering and untrue summary of everything that had gone on, and that her report and documentation were full of inconsistencies and errors. But of course, the police uphold the law so they must be telling the truth, right? Just like people who deny major events like the Holocaust – as bad as something is, if they say it didn’t happen it must not have. Riiiiiight.

Anyway. As of today, the Crown has agreed to withdraw the case if I do some community service. As a favour to myself and other taxpayers, I have decided to take them up on their offer. Why? I could continue to fight this through court just to prove that I am honest and have been telling the truth all along, or I could move the hell on with my life, continue to do great acting work, and start enjoying life again. I am quite certain that I would win if I did insist on this going to trial, but with how flawed our system is, the extra effort’s not even worth it. Nor are the lawyer fees. I’ve defended myself all through this process, including getting withdrawn two peace bond applications filled with false information against me (one from my ex, and one from Liana Kerzner, a friend of my ex’s), and thus far, telling the truth has served me well enough. Besides, I’d be spending those hours anyway, and I’d rather they benefit someone else than just be wasted.

With how much I’ve learned about the system, I’d rather just pass my knowledge on to others so they hopefully have less abrasive encounters with dishonest cops and/or abusive partners. It’s what’s made me such a staunch actorvist the past little while – life is NOT fair, and the good people often get screwed over because the people supposed to be ‘protecting us’ can’t or won’t pursue those actually in the wrong. (Anyone who knows me knows that it’s in my nature to help people anyway, so I may as well get some credit for it. ;p)

My story is by far NOT the only one. Recently in Toronto, a rookie cop doing the right thing by arresting an impaired driver was harassed by other officers – because the person he arrested was a fellow officer. Or look at Byron Sonne, who spent ELEVEN months in jail for his honest curiousity. There’s a million stories of police misconduct out there, and I think it’s time the public hold the police truly accountable for their actions.

As for what I’ve learned? It’s kind of scary, but I hope it’ll help someone else out. Some of this applies to Ontario, Canada, specifically, so please do due reasearch into the laws in your area.
1) If you are ever searched by police without a warrant, make it loudly known that you do not consent to the search but that you will not impede them. This is one of many steps in learning your rights.
2) Any person who believes a crime has been done has the right to speak to a Justice of the Peace and file what’s called a private information. The Criminal Code is available online.
3) If you find yourself in a domestic violence situation – don’t wait, don’t hesitate, don’t try and protect the other person. Report what’s happened to you IN DETAIL as soon as it happens. Don’t skip on details. Write everything down so that you can refer back to it later. Keep a log of everything that happens.
4) You can’t count on anyone else to help you or for anyone else to be invested in your outcome. Not witnesses, not factual physical evidence, nothing. So much can be brushed over or skewed, even when you are telling the truth. If you do hire a lawyer for your situation, take the time to write them out a detailed timeline of events so that they at least have a record of everything that’s gone on. So many lawyers are unprepared and/or apathetic.
5) Conduct in court: come dressed professionally, and be polite. You’d be surprised at how many people overlook this. Essentially, you are playing in the big-kid sandbox, and if you don’t play by their rules, they are not going to be very nice to you.
6) If you’ve been charged with a crime, you have the right to request further evidence against you if you believe there may be anything else.
7) If you are trying to report domestic violence, most courthouses should have a program called Victim-Witness Assistance. Again, don’t wait – get in there right away. If you are charged with a crime and cannot afford a lawyer, court houses also have Duty Counsel who can provide you with basic legal advice. They are often overloaded and underpaid.
8) The criminal justice system is like a cliquey club – they have certain language they use and protocols they follow that seem meant to be confusing for the average person. Acronyms like JPT (judicial pre-trial) and OIC (Officer in Charge), for example. The good news is that Google is your friend, and most lawyers offer a free consultation. Gather your questions and do your research. You DO have the capacity to learn these things. Again, read the Criminal Code. There’s also bodies of rules pertaining to how police must behave, for example, as well as the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms.
9) Being arrested and charged is NOT the end of the world – they just want you to feel like it is. So much of police and court process is about intimidation, which is why sometimes people get physically beaten when they are not talking and giving police the answers they want to hear.
10) Stick to the facts. As much as you are going to have emotional involvement in what’s happening to you, you will be taken more seriously if you can be relatively objective about everything. A lot of people make the mistake of publicly saying that the police were “out to get them”, etc – whether or not it’s true, prove the hows and whys. Judges also don’t want to hear people ramble on; the more definitive answers you can give, the better. Yes, No, I saw, This happened, etc.
11) The scariest is that the police have an internal records-management system that the public has no access to whatsoever. They can write whatever they want to in there. I’m sure they have a novel or two about me by now, with all these things that I’ve “done”. A little 1984, anyone?

(I just realized this turned into a Ten Things post, so I’m going to stop at eleven for now. ;p)

Anyway. I feel like I’ve been to hell and back with everything I’ve gone through, but point of fact is that I refuse to see myself as a victim – not of domestic violence, not of police misconduct, nothing. I am a fucking SURVIVOR, and I am going to turn this whole shitstorm of bad experiences and getting caught up with bad people into some amazing art and some amazing profit for myself.

Any news outlets who want to cover this story – I welcome the chance. You can contact me at emily dot schooley at gmail dot com. I applaud any of you who’ve actually read this mini-essay, btw. I’ve had a lot to say about this for a long time and I am glad to be at a place where I can talk publicly about my experience with being arrested for reporting domestic violence.

Oh and PS: I guess I’m a ‘real’ celebrity now, now that I’ve been arrested. You’re welcome for the sarcasm.

KONY 2012, and why you should care.

Wednesday, March 7th, 2012

I want you all to take a half-hour out of your life and watch that above video. Not because you’re going to get cool points, but because we as human beings are dangerously close to self-imploding as a species. Our technologies are changing faster than we can keep up with them and there is so much pressure from the mass media to keep up with the Joneses that we are completely blinded to what’s going on outside of our own tiny little bubbles. There’s a whole world out there beyond our iPods and hybrid cars.

I’ve said this before: as an actor, as a creator, as a filmmaker… it is my job to make people think. It’s my job to stir up catharsis and feelings, and in some cases remind people that they need to feel, period. The way we “interact” now, in 140 character updates and through text messages is bringing us dangerously close to a global disconnect. We’re so easily distracted by the next status update or other shiny thing that comes along that we overlook atrocities; friends and strangers suffering in pain get lost in the overwhelming bombardment of too many things to pay attention to.

Don’t get me wrong – our new ways of interacting and sharing news can be fantastic. Take this campaign, for example. Several years ago they were told that it would be “impossible”, and now through an increased awareness steps have been taken to find and take down Kony because more people are adding their voice to a call for action.

The issue here is that we can’t forget. We have to keep caring and not let ourselves be swayed by a new video game or product-named-after-a-fruit. We have to stand together, not only to ask for change but to take actions ourselves in whatever way we can, whether it’s donating money, travelling to provide aid, creating documentaries and bringing issues to public awareness… wherever our talents may lay, we MUST use them not selfishly but to help others as much as we help ourselves.

Recently, I went through something fairly traumatic that has caused me to relapse into having wicked insomnia and panic attacks, along with some PTSD symptoms. That is NOTHING compared to being forced to kill your own parents, to have to maim and mutilate others, to being forcibly raped over and over. I know how good I have it, how good we all have it; in comparison, I don’t even want to talk about my experiences because I’ve always been safe, I’ve always had a roof over my head and food in my stomach. As educated, reasonably wealthy (on a financial scale), first world citizens most of us have never had to beg for food, let alone experience any of the above. We don’t have the screams of the dying echoing in our heads. As children, we never feared abduction or wished for death because it would be easier than living in constant terror.

With our priviledge comes a responsibility to aid those suffering. Victims of Kony, victims of police brutality, victims of female castration and honour killings, victims of circumstance that leave them homeless and hungry and exposed to the elements no matter where they are in the world. Imagine how they’ve suffered, and immerse yourself in it. Empathize until the tears stream down your face, and know that what you’re feeling for them is only a fraction of the daily hell they’re facing.

Once you’ve swallowed all that, push yourself beyond what you think you’re capable of to help. It’s the only way we’re going to stop monsters like Kony and make this planet better instead of worse. There’s so many worthy causes out there. You owe it to yourself as much as you owe it to them to get off Twitter and Facebook and go out into the world and take action.

The question is not “can I?” but “how will I?”

Hello 2012

Thursday, January 26th, 2012

Things seem to be really picking up both for myself personally and for the industry, and that makes me very happy. More on career developments to come in another post.

The following started out as a note on my Facebook but I wanted to share it here too, because it is something VERY important to me…

Since being in an amazing, loving, nurturing relationship where I am positively supported and cherished… well, it’s hard to look back on where I was a year ago. It frightens me that I – a smart, strong woman – would allow myself and others to gaslight and downplay the abusive relationship I was in such that I stayed in it for a more than a year after the first signs of domestic violence.

It frightens me that after having grown up with an abusive step-parent, that I could rationalize AT ALL someone physically choking me as being “all right”, that “he didn’t really mean it.” That for too many months again, I stayed silent and made excuses about the choking and about a later incident that resulted in 15 stitches in my arm. I didn’t want to cause drama, I didn’t want people to take sides – I just wanted space to start healing when I finally woke up to the hell I was in. It’s hard to make any sort of rational decision or movement when you’re in the middle of an emotional Holocaust.

So, I bent over backwards to accommodate people who claimed to be friends, who claimed to be “acting in my best interests” and who “wanted the best for me.” I was made to retract and apologize for coming forward about the abuse, for bringing it up. I was given so many strings of bad advice: that I should try to work it out with him, that I was over-reacting to the whole situation, that it was “my fault” somehow… essentially, that I was the bad guy, the one to blame.

Oh, the blame. It came from my abusive ex, and it came from his friends… you know, the ones claiming to be “mutual friends.” In this sort of situation, there cannot be mutual friends. By choosing not to choose, you’ve ultimately made your choice. The real problem is that it was so easy to buy into the “my fault” theory for so long, that I was somehow not good enough and that I’d intrinsically failed somehow; had I been “better” none of this would’ve happened.

Women, men, everyone – that is BULLSHIT. Abuse in any form is never the fault of the person being abused. I don’t like the word “victim”. Victim implies helplessness, and while there may be a learned helplessness akin to a frog in boiling water… you need to realize that you CAN get out. That it is NOT your fault. It is NEVER alright for a person to emotionally or physically bully and abuse another person, and it is most certainly not due to any lack on the part of the person being abused.

Being in an abusive relationship seriously erodes your sense of self, and of self-worth. In some cases, no physical harm is ever done, but it does not mean that the relationship is not abusive, or that there are no lasting implications. If you don’t nip abuse in the bud, it’s a slippery slope downhill. The first time has to be the last time, period. No justifications, no letting off the hook. If you have the capacity to forgive then do so, but don’t ever forget. And write it down somewhere. Report it. Don’t sweep it under the rug.

It’s so easy to convince yourself that the abuser is “not that bad”, that “s/he didn’t mean to hurt me”, that “it was a one-time thing.” These are all things I’ve said to myself… as someone who logically, rationally knows the signs of abuse, it took a serious injury to jar the irrational side of my brain that pled “but he loves you” into realizing that nobody who truly, legitimately loves you would intentionally cause you harm and then have the gall to blame you for their own choices and actions.

I lived in profound unhappiness for months. I had a justification for almost everything he did that hurt me. And there were plenty of times where my abusive ex was nice, even seemingly caring and sweet. He paid for the occasional dinner or share of groceries. He put on a great face of “I’m the fun, carefree guy” in public – it’s a surprisingly common trait for abusers to be able to do so, to convince the outside world that they’re not the one to blame in the relationship. Not that healthy relationships need someone to blame or be a victim. (It’s hard to remember that when you’re in the middle of something irrational and harmful.)

Ultimately, all of those “nice” times did not excuse or make up for the way he treated me as an inferior, for the way he refused to meet needs I presented to him. For the way he went extra steps to mock me or make me unhappy when he knew things bothered me. For the way he continually dismissed my feelings or got angry any time I had an opinion that differed from his own. For the times he abandoned or hurt me in his fits of temper.

My abusive ex would always get the most angry at me when I stood up for myself. When I voiced my wants, my needs, when I dared to express and press forward with an interest, opinion, or course of action that he disagreed with or that inconvenienced him somehow. As I’m discovering, rational, mature couples can talk about their differences of opinion without it being a screaming match and without one party storming out.

I even see it now in photos, the blatant disregard he has for anything but himself and his wants. There was never any love in his eyes when he looked at me, just a disdain and an unhappiness. Unfortunately, some people are like that – and more unfortunate are the ones who will harm others to make themselves feel better or to get what they want from them. I’ve learned to feel pity for them – but it DOES NOT excuse their behaviour.

The growth that I’ve experienced in the last year is like the change from a caterpillar to a moth; a metamorphosis still in progress. For the most part, I am ecstatically happy again. I find joy in the smallest every day things, I feel loved and cherished by friends and family and my partner. I’ve accomplished a lot, personally and professionally.

Conversely, I still doubt myself from time to time – why I’m here on this planet at all, if what I’m doing is good enough, if I’m liked and respected for what I do. What, if any, value should I place on my time and my work. If I’m pretty or thin or charming enough, or why not. I hate to be so callous, but at the end of the day others’ opinions shouldn’t mean a damned thing – especially if they’re bringing you down instead of uplifting you.

Why am I thinking about all this now? Because, unfortunately, there is still unresolved bullshit that needs to be dealt with from this abusive relationship, and I am in the middle of some of it. So all of this is front and centre in my mind. I don’t generally like to get this personal or this detailed about my own life – but I want others to hear my voice.

Ultimately, I want others to know this: that you are not alone. That you are never so far in that you can’t get out. That anyone who doesn’t have YOUR happiness, safety and comfort first and foremost as a priority is not someone you should be associating with. Life does go on after leaving an abusive relationship, and it gets so much better. You deserve better.

I want to say this in closing: re-learn to recognize if you are in an unsafe situation. If you’re in a relationship with an abuser, GET OUT. Don’t wait. Report everything to the authorities and keep reporting until someone listens to you. You won’t regret having everything clearly documented, trust me.

My biggest problem is that I downplayed and I waited. I put someone else’s reputation and happiness above my own needs and mental state. Because I loved my ex, because I didn’t want to see him go to jail I didn’t immediately call the police when he physically attacked me. I intensely regret this choice now because it has caused me so much more heartache, stress, and time in court (to say the least.)

Feel free to pass this note around. I hope my experiences and heartfelt words are enough to save someone else in a similar situation.

For more information on domestic violence, visit: http://helpguide.org/mental/domestic_violence_abuse_types_signs_causes_effects.htm

A Sense of Satisfaction…

Tuesday, November 1st, 2011

This month has been all about finishing projects, the start of very exciting new opportunites and the continuation of some battles that are apparently not over yet. One highlight included being a part of a documentary on scream queens – very apt for the season!

Halloween is my absolute favourite-ever holiday, and my sweetie and I went as Mulder and Scully from the X-Files:

Halloween fun

Pretty dead-on, no? The X-files is a show that I grew up with, and to be honest, a role like Gillian Anderson had is pretty much my dream role as an actor. A strong, smart woman in a long-running TV series… yeah. Scully was sexy, but she certainly wasn’t what I call “attractive cardboard.” That is, characters/actors who have very little substance and very little performance, other than being cast on and relying on their looks to carry the show or film. I’d rather play the smart girl than the hot girl any day, though I’ve played both many times over and women like Gillian Anderson prove that you can pull off both at once. Anyway. I could rant about that forever (screw you, bizzare Hollywood ideals…) but…

Secondly, as I mentioned in my last post, I had TWO films that premiered here in Toronto this month. First up was Stiffs on the Green (over Thanksgiving weekend), and Black Eve, this past weekend. They both screened at the Toronto Underground, and we had some kickass afterparties:

film premiere

That’s me with Mila Starr and Kassandra Santos from Black Eve, two very lovely ladies who I’d work with any time again in a heartbeat. Kassandra’s a super-talented actress, and Mila designed the wardrobe for the film AND has an awesome band who I’ve danced for a few times.

I am also now wrapped on One Week in Windchocombe, which is kind of a bittersweet thing for me. On one hand, this film has been more physically and emotionally demanding than anything else I’ve ever done (including numerous reshoots, volatile temperatures, and some Very Dark Mental Places), but on the other hand… I don’t feel done yet. It just hasn’t sunk in. And like all good films, this won’t be finished for months and months and so I will have to wait to see the finished project when it’s finally all together. (I do have a new project in the works with our amazing director… but more on that when we actually start shooting.)

Ivette and Ariel

Unfortunately, in less fun news, the scam artist (from last year) James Donman is back, and is now actively trying to sue me for $20 000.00. Yes, it’s ridiculous to say the least, but I’ll save the hows and whys for what I need to present in court. In the meantime, I hope you all stay aware that creeps like this do exist in the entertainment industry, and they live to prey on the young, vulnerable dreamers who are hungry to work and to create success for themselves. It makes me mad – not just for myself but for every other actor out there – that people like this exist. Please share that article and make people aware of him, so he can’t continue to terrify talented young people. (If you want more history, click on my un-professionals tag.) So yeah, among everything else I have to deal with Donman and it kind of sucks, but I’m not letting it slow me down.

Up next for me is a stage play called The Other Side of the Rhyme, on stage at the Russian Canadian Theatre Centre (48 Alness Rd) that runs November 17th – 19th. Check out the facebook event link, or buy tickets online at our online ticketing store. It’s a quirky, irreverent, and fun one-act comedy that you won’t want to miss… set in the land of Nursery, it sheds light on the naughty truths behind our ‘innocent’ nursery rhyme stories we know and love.

Last but not least, I am in pre-production for a new feature film, Aequitas.

Justice is not blind

I am looking forward to getting going on this project, but most importantly, it is currently raising funds on Indiegogo so that we can have the best production possible. Any sort of contribution is appreciated, and I’d love for all friends and fans to help spread the word, even if you can’t afford to contribute.

… And, I do have other life news, but have spent too long already on this blog update, so that’ll have to wait for next time!

I Have Been Her Kind

Monday, July 25th, 2011

I should be crying, but I just can’t let it show.
I should be hoping, but I can’t stop thinking

Of all the things I should’ve said,
That I never said.
All the things we should’ve done,
That we never did.
All the things I should’ve given,
But I didn’t.

Oh, darling, make it go,
Make it go away.

Give me these moments back.
Give them back to me.
Give me that little kiss.
Give me your hand.

- Kate Bush: This Woman’s Work

I’ve been debating whether or not to publicly put in my two cents about Amy Winehouse’s death. Amanda Palmer’s blog has a brilliant post about it, something I relate quite to and I feel is written beautifully. Also, I applaud Kimya Dawson for being wonderfully raw and real about her own experiences with drugs and darkness.

But my story’s a little different than that. (Or maybe not, but everyone will admit to different things.)

I never knew the woman and didn’t idolize her music nearly as much as other musical influences, but in death Amy’s hit me in unspeakable ways. See, I have been her kind. I’ve never been so far and so badly gone that I’ve overdosed, but I know what it’s like to get lost to the point where you can’t see the people in front of you who care and want you to thrive. Personal hells are just that – personal. You can’t claim to understand thoughts that aren’t yours. Drugs and alcohol and sex are all good distractions from the noise in your head – insecurities and demons and losses – but they only go so far. They don’t erase, only numb, and there’s only so much you can do before the voices break through again.

I believe Amy sang because she wanted to share her message, her feelings, her grief. She sang waiting for someone to say “I understand, I’ve been there too. Now pick yourself up and come along. It’s going to be alright.” And maybe she sang to say the same thing to others.

Making art (whether you’re a singer, writer, filmmaker, actor, whatever) is about life and emotions and relating to other people. It’s about getting your unique message out there, about trying to make sense of what you know and feel and experience. And with that all, you’re offering your experiences to others on a silver platter. You want to be understood, accepted, loved. And all of that can drive you mad.

There are times when I’m afraid to feel, because (like the quote in my last blog post) I know how overwhelming it is. A lot of creative folk are like this, I find. Love wants to burst from your chest and makes you dance in the streets. Misery lurks around corners and attacks out of nowhere, savaging you like a bear. It’s hard to not get caught in that tumultuous undertow, the ebb and flow. Monroe, Cobain, Van Gogh, Ledger, Elliot Smith, a hundred thousand others have been there too and got lost.

No one person’s feelings are any more or less valid, less real, than anyone else’s. But they’re sure as hell going to vary in intensity and focus. Creative people especially are vulnerable to what I think of as neurodiversity or uniquely-brained: many struggle with some or another ‘mental illness’. It’s not something that people can just permanently think themselves out of and move on from, like those who have relatively ‘normal’ brains can. Moods haunt like ghosts.

As an actor, I sometimes wonder if I’m not a part of that group. Why it is so natural for me to suffer tragic deaths over and over in the horror films I’ve been in. Why I am so easily able to become a troubled victim of rape and incest. Why I can kill my own child. Why I can be an otherworldly creature. In these moments, I’m not pretending or denying the feelings that come. I just am. It scares people just how quickly I can cry on camera when needed, and how quickly I can laugh again when the cameras stop. In those moments, I feel it all, and it moves through me. Other times, without that immediate and wonderful creative outlet, it won’t let go.

It’s all or nothing. You either feel everything and take what comes with it, or you try to shut off. And shutting off ruins your art, makes it a hollow shell. I’ve had those bad auditions where I just couldn’t connect to the character and the bad improv sets where I know I’ve just been a talking head. And in those moments, you feel like you’ve failed yourself, and it all starts again.

Amy Winehouse, the girl who felt too much. Rest in peace with all the other creative souls.

Summer = insomnia

Saturday, July 16th, 2011

At the best of times I’m a nightowl. I work best from the hours of about 10 pm to 4 am, which is completely absurd and useless to anything happening in North America. Great for night shoots, mind you; less so for those pesky 6 am call-times that I lovingly gripe about. Hell, I’m just happy to be working.

One thing that I’m sure isn’t helping with the lack of sleep is that today marks a year exactly to the day that my ex, Declan, pinned me to a wall by my throat and made me beg to be let go. For those of you who are at Polaris, yes I suppose that’s a small part of why I am not there (and a part of the reason I am no longer a part of Futurecon), though I really am too busy with professional goings-on to attend the con, which is also refreshing. It means that work has picked up enough over the last year for me to need to make that decision, any PTSD aside… Though I certainly did enjoy running an improv workshop for so many of you last year and will miss those of you who participated and who I met for the first time.
Yes, I suppose I am “still getting over it”, though truthfully I haven’t thought much about it in recent days, and it’ll be yet more emotional fuel I can bring to future roles.
I also know that some people think personal lives and acting careers shouldn’t mix… but the reason I talk about crazy stuff like this is because it does shape who I am, how I am as a person, and it means that should I have any really big scandals happen, I can bury them because I “always talk about my personal life.” (That last part is sarcasm, but to be honest I’d rather be thought of as a real and rounded person with depth who happens to act rather than a cardboard actor that is just a pretty face. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t bring my problems to auditions or set but at the same time I think it’s good to be cognisant of life AND your career, no?)

Anyway. Now that that’s off my chest… Not sure if I blogged about it, but I had a bit of a feature on Being Erica the other month. Can’t go into too many details of the episode, but it was set in the more distant past and I had a scene where I was next or close to Erin (the lovely lady playing Erica) for most of the scene. It’ll be interesting to see how it’s cut together and how much of me that they actually use, but out of all my experiences on bigger sets so far this summer, that’s been my favourite moment and set to date. Hell, they had an espresso bar that day – and that is rare! Craft services really do make the set sometimes. *grin*

I also have a super-exciting project coming up that will have me travelling to the States in August to be a part of something BIG. More details soon, I promise!

The other thing I’ve been grooving on recently are some other actress blogs. They range in information and content – some not even revealing their identity – but here’s what I’ve been enjoying, in no particular order:
- Toronto Actress
- Actress Confessions
- Pam Beesley’s Actor Tips
- Daydreaming Actress

If you have any good actor blogs, please send ‘em my way!

Oh, and I’ve been getting back into my Dice Living…

Down So Long…

Monday, May 16th, 2011

I’ve been toying for awhile with whether to post this and what if anything to say… but I know I’ve been somewhat curiously quiet and noticeably absent and unproductive as hell and apologetically behind and generally upside down and not nearly as focused on my acting work as I should be lately.

The long and short of where I’ve been is that about two months ago now, I began the breakup process with my now-ex, Declan. And coming out of the fog and working through all the pain, I have been recovering the pieces of myself that were lost to what I now see was a highly abusive relationship.

That’s probably what hurts the most, that someone I loved so desperately and sacrificed and bent and changed and moved for would be so constantly, purposely hurtful. But he was – both emotionally and physically. The worst part is, I went into the relationship knowing that he had abused someone else, but he had convinced me that this other girl was “crazy” and that “nothing had happened.” Needless to say, I so regret buying into his manipulations now. I don’t know the extent of what happened in that other relationship but I can guess.

Throughout our relationship, Declan would frequently invalidate anything I said or felt that differed from his own opinion. He had to always be right, and he would one-up me and work any situation out so that he would come out getting his own way. When we would go out, to a friend’s party or on the town, if he got upset for whatever reason (usually because he was a volatile drunk) he would abandon me and leave me to get home on my own. This happened more than once, and despite knowing how upset it made me, Declan did it again and again. Then, of course, there was the incident where he pinned me to the floor and choked me, then held me up against a wall and choked me again, making me beg for air before he would let me go. I regret not leaving him there and then to file a report with the police. But I had somehow convinced myself that, like for example the incident where he “accidentally” broke my glasses, that he didn’t really mean to do it. Funny, the lies we tell ourselves, when the truth is that much more dangerous. I spent so much time defending him against the allegations the previous girlfriend made that I was willing to overlook violent behaviour, just because I loved him and wanted the best for him.

It’s taken time to get to the point where I’m at now in healing, and I think it’s going to take that much longer to really get my full stride back, so to speak. What makes it worse is that Declan is continuing his emotional and psychological manipulations, using different tactics with different people as necessary. He applied for a peace bond against me, under completely false pretenses. He claimed that I tried to kill his dog – which, to anyone who knows me at all, would be irrational at best and ridiculous, as I have five cats and two snakes of my own, used to co-op for a dog groomer in high school, volunteered for a vet’s office… yeah. The best I can figure is that either he needs to convince himself and others that I am the real danger to absolve himself of the abuses he heaped upon me, or that the other Dennehys (ie his family) are pushing him into it based on lies he told them. Either way, it’s just proven to me what a manipulative liar he is: he originally told me that he was applying for a peace bond and that “if I was a good girl, he wouldn’t go through with it.” Even at the courthouse on Friday, he pretended that he didn’t want to go through with it until the last second, where he decided to press for it. Luckily, I had enough in my defense that they didn’t automatically issue it. Also, I am guessing that what he didn’t mention is that his dog (which is a German Shephard/Rotweiller mix) has in the past been a dangerous animal – I’m not sure whether it killed or just injured another dog, but I know there was some sort of incident a few years back and an appeal lost that led to him not registering the dog for a few years and then registering him last year under a different name so that the dog wouldn’t get taken away. Needless to say, in general the peace bond against me is ridiculous and uncalled for – I don’t wish Declan or Max (his dog) or anyone any harm, but I am obviously very bothered by his continued dishonesty in so many areas. And, I guess, bothered with myself that I put up with it for so long.

At least throughout this all, I have learned who my true friends are – the ones who actively support me in recovering from this, the ones who are taking a firm stance in letting Declan know that his actions toward me are unacceptable. The problem is that Declan generally projects a “fun and fancy free” vibe, so people who haven’t seen him be manipulative and dark have no idea just what he is capable of. I won’t go into the less-than-legal things I’ve heard him say and seen him do, but I know what he is capable of. To be honest, it scares me.

So yeah, things have been difficult for me lately to say the least, and my acting career has somewhat fallen by the wayside because of all this real-life turbulence. It sucks, but now that I’ve moved house and am slowly getting through all the pain caused by Declan’s abuse, I am slowly getting back on track. I cut my hair and just got some new headshots, so I’ll be getting back out to auditions soon. I’m working on some new stuff for The BOOB Show, and am going to be taking a new class, and have been picking up some background work in between. It’s rough, but it’s the truth of where I’ve been – for whatever reason, I am a terrible liar (especially about how I’m feeling) but seem compelled to keep telling truths, no matter how painful and difficult. So yeah. It’s still often dark where I am, but as they say, the darkest hour is just before dawn. And hey, I am a survivor, after all.

Me and Method Acting

Thursday, March 3rd, 2011

Sometimes I think I’m too honest, that I feel too much and tell people exactly what I think a little too often. I’ve always been a terrible liar, see, and I’ve heard more than a few times that I can be scary/intense/just plain weird. Especially when I can tap into ‘the darkness’ and turn on the tears for a scene, and then be smiling again when I hear cut.

Mostly, I’m smiling for all of your sakes so you don’t think I’m a complete basket case. See, I like the roles that are dark and disturbed because that is what I come from, that is what is hauntingly familiar. For all some of my family loves me and tried to do right by me, my mother’s husband is an abusive fucker and to say I did not have a happy childhood is probably a gross understatement. It takes work for me to be a fucking Pollyanna social butterfly sometimes.

So, long story short, I’ve spent the last week preparing a piece from 4.48 Psychosis for an important audition. For those of you who don’t know, it was Sarah Kane’s last work before she killed herself. It’s about depression and suicide, and it’s hard not to tap into all of those rich, vivid, negative as hell emotions. It’s hard to remember there’s any love there when the urge that comes to the surface is to do extreme violence to yourself or others, and to feel like everyone is out to get you somehow. Either way it’s got to end and it’s not going to be pretty.

So in other words, if I’ve seemed distant and combative and scattered, that’s why. I wish I could just shelve it and move on, but it always takes me a bit to come back out of – there’s too much history there for it to be comfortable or casual. I could use a few extra hugs/drinks/chocolate this week.

There will be more dice next week, and hopefully I will be back to being chipper once I remember the world is not out to end me.

Also, if you’re around the GTA, check out Rock The Wave this Friday. Great event, and I am glad to be donating some photography gift certificates for a substantial discount on my rates.