The maker of my happiness

How do you feel? what are you feeling right now? Are you sure?

I often catch myself getting my feelings wrong and then having to deal with the consequences. Like last week when I had a solo show that I hadn’t performed for the last 22months due to Covid restrictions.

When we premiered 2 years ago, my boyfriend and I had just gotten together and he had never seen me on stage. I was very nervous about how he would like it and when he told me that he was overwhelmed and in awe of my transformation into the rather dark character, I was pleased relieved and proud.

Acting is part of my lifeforce. I grow and stretch through it and it is very important to me to be able to share my passion with my partner. That winter he watched the show 4 times and glowed with pride that I was his girlfriend.

Fast-forward to now: We have been and still are happily together for over 27 months and he is still convinced that I am the best actress ever, ( Yeah, I know, still rose-tinted, but I must admit that I love it)

So last week when I finally had the show back on. he told me in the morning that he would love to come to watch me again that night and to feel proud about me all over again.

Shortly before I had to get ready for the stage, he asked me if I would be very disappointed if he wouldn’t come after all? He didn’t feel like socializing(my students were part of the audience). I told him that it would be no problem at all and that I totally understood where he was coming from. And I totally believed it.

But then my feelings kicked in.

I felt sad that he wasn’t feeling a strong pull to watch the show a 5th time. (Unfair, I know, but actors can be peculiar in that way.) Then I remembered that he once showed up as a surprise guest after having said that he would stay at home and I thought, “Hey, maybe he’ll suddenly feel the strong urge to see me on stage after all”. This cheered me up a bit only to feel resentment welling up again when he didn’t show up a second time that night. (Which is outrageously unfair since he never even hinted at anything the like in the first place.) It was just my hopes and false expectations that made me feel let down. I had underestimated my feelings and then had been too chicken to admit that I had been wrong. Being mad at my boyfriend wasn’t fair at all. But I must admit that I felt angry and disappointed even though.

After the show when he asked how it went, I told him that I had misjudged my emotions and he was totally sweet about it. The next morning I still felt rebellious and hated myself for it since it was so unfair. So I finally gave in and journaled about it. And it really did help. I had slowly been sliding into making my boyfriend responsible for my own happiness and thus abandoned myself. I immediately felt better and stronger when I resolved that I was the maker of my own happiness as he was of his. That’s our whole secret. We just need to remind ourselves every now and then that we love to spend our time together, but that we are still separate individuals who can make ourselves very happy independently of each other.

So that’s my life lesson from last week. Bet I will forget about it every now and then but happy to know that I also have the power to remember my freedom.

Heavy Heart

One of those days

Photo by Brigitta Schneiter on Unsplash

I feel low today. 
Empty. 
Sad. 
Head hurts. 
Fist in my stomach. 
Throat narrow. 
Tears behind my eyes.

I want to fill that emptiness. 

Food, 
drink, 
sweets. 
Run. 
Daylight.
Sit with it.

This too shall pass.

One of those days.

Guilt- Trip

My brain on too little sleep

Photo by Karsten Winegeart on Unsplash

Saw Dad this morning to collect his laundry and a few things to mail and 

felt guilty for not staying longer.

Went over to Mum’s to do her shopping and a chat and 

felt guilty for leaving afterwards. 

Got home, took the dogs for a second walk and 

felt guilty for getting it over with rather than savouring every minute of it.

Felt like I didn’t have enough time to live my life.

Felt guilty about feeling this way. 

Thought, if I got paid for all the time I do something for my elderly parents, I wouldn’t be skint right now.

Felt guilty for thinking such terrible thoughts.

Felt guilty for being skint.

Felt overwhelmed with life in general.

Felt guilty for feeling overwhelmed.

Thought that most people are working much harder and still manage everything that is expected from them as a grown-up.

Felt guilty for being an over- aged teenager rather than an adult.

Realized that I still don’t want to grow up.

Felt guilty about it.

Felt guilty for feeling guilty most of the time.

Maybe I should catch up on sleep.

My master and commander

I am in charge of my life

Photo by Tingey Injury Law Firm on Unsplash

I’ve been single for most of my life. 

I was scared of intimacy and of relationships going wrong. My parents’ marriage was hell and that imprinted on me that I am better off by myself.

But I wondered. 

What would it be like to have a romantic partner?

I read all the novels watched all the movies and dreamed of a fairytale prince. I secretly fell in love so many times but never revealed my true feelings. Being an actress and playing all the romantic parts helped to make me feel loved and longed for. 

I saw my friends falling in and out of love, being infatuated and then fed up with their partner and the thought of a potential boyfriend being tired of me scared me so much that I preferred to stay single.

Then with 45 I dared to try- mainly to prove to myself that it wasn’t for me-, but somehow it worked. 

I read all the relationship books and swore that we would be open to each other from the start. 

No playing games. Authenticity and vulnerability was the goal.

 And we are. When we quarrel we stay kind. We don’t raise our voices or call each other names. We often hold hands.

I am blessed to have a wonderful kind and caring partner.

I feel safe with him. 

And attractive. 

And seen.

But when I am unhappy I still very often fall into the trap of looking for reasons in his behaviour. 

I try to tell myself the story that he doesn’t love me enough, or cares enough, or did something to trigger my distress.

This is a false voice inside of my head that tries to blame anything on others so I don’t have to take responsibility for my own life. 

Nobody can make me feel happy when I don’t take care of myself. 

The one person who is in charge of my happiness is me.

I know this. And yet I sometimes opt for the easy way out. 

I am in charge. I know what I need. I know what makes me feel vibrant and alive and full of lust for life. 

I try to remind myself of this when I feel sad.

I know this is true. 

It empowers me.

I am the master of my life.

When Did You Give Up

Taking back your power

Photo by Paul Kapischka on Unsplash

Two nights ago we watched a movie that underwhelmed me, 
but one line popped up in my head today while walking our dogs:

“When did you give up?” 

In the movie, this was asked by a cowboy talking to a self-proclaimed unsuitable mother who behaves extra horribly to make her point.

“When did you give up?”

What?

When?

Why?

And if you did give up, 

does this mean that it is still within your power to pick up the shards?

To try again? 

Does this mean that you didn’t fail?

That fate didn’t make you into a bad — — — (fill in the blank)?

That there is still hope?

When did you give up?

What if you gave yourself another chance?

Oh Picture of a Face Divine

Falling in love in old age

Photo by Debby Hudson on Unsplash

Mum said she didn’t want to get up.

What for?

All she does is wait.

For her favourite TV shows, her meals, her naps.

So sad.

So lonely.

Most of her friends are already dead.

She is too poor to look after a pet.

Doesn’t want to go into a home.

How can I make her feel better?

I call her every day.

Visit three times a week.

In other parts of the world, people live together with their elders.

Old people are integrated.

Not here.

You grow old and isolated.

When I next saw her, Mum had changed.

She looked placid, happy, young.

What happened?

Mum has fallen in love with the picture.

The picture of a writer.

She feels a little embarrassed about it.

In a good way.

Like a girl who has fallen in love with a pop star.

It makes her feel alive.

She doesn’t feel lonely any more.

When going to the bathroom, she tells him she’ll be right back.

She is 87. He is 64.

He will never know.

His eyes are so kind and loving. These eyes got her.

I bought her more books of his.

She is surrounded by his words.

And his picture is always by her side.

Maybe this is crazy.

But it is making my Mum love life again.

Overwhelmed

Happy 2024

Photo by Brett Jordan on Unsplash

The new year has only just begun and I am already overwhelmed. 

Everything is too much, 

I can’t cope, 

I just want to escape. 

Where to?
What from?
And then what?

I have no answers. 

I feel wired and tired.
Lazy and exhausted.
Guilty and unproductive.

It drives me nuts.
I want time out.
Do nothing.

I feel restless.
Bored.
Burned out.

I feel like I should hide 

until I feel good and kind and loveable again.

But I know this is also a part of me.

Here’s to the complexities of life.

Embrace it.

All of it.

Wholehearted 2024.

Life Without Pets Is Possible but Pointless

Cats and Dogs

photo credit: me

I met my first dog after I got back from an audition in Zurich Switzerland. While I was doing my monologue, two puppies were on their way to us. Brother and sister.

I didn’t yet know who would be mine, but when I opened the door, it was clear as day: The girl pup saw me and ran into my arms. The rest is history.

Mulle was my family, best friend, confidant, and mobile home.

When I was homesick it was never for a place, always for her.

When a theatre asked me to play for them, I said yes, but only if my dog could come as well.

That was my one condition.

I didn’t want to part ways with her ever.

When we weren’t allowed on the tour bus, we travelled by train. We stayed in dog-friendly hotels. 

We were a team.

When she died at 16.5, it broke my heart.

Everywhere I went I missed her.

There were so many empty spaces where she used to be.

One day before Mulle’s death-day anniversary Coco entered my life.

My boyfriend stopped the car, went out into the pouring rain and came back with a soaking wet bundle that was full of fleas. She fell into my lap and thus our lives. I wouldn’t have chosen to have another pet just then. 

I thought I wasn’t ready. I couldn’t fathom loving and potentially losing another furry friend. 

But here she was a tiny kitten, tough as nails and full of life.

The thing about cats is that you can’t take them with you anywhere you go. 

Well, you can, but if they are free-roaming cats, they go crazy if you have to keep them inside.

This winter I had to set up camp without my cat for our winter play. 

I longed for furry company and roamed the animal shelter site. 

And there she was: Her kind eyes reminded me of Mulle, she was in a shelter in Russia, kid and dog-friendly, indifferent to cats and house-trained.

It took a few weeks until I could take her in my arms, I had to finish my show and return home and she had to be shipped along with 30 other cats and dogs from Russia via Poland to Germany but finally, on December 11th we picked her up and brought her home. My boyfriend drove so I could hold her in my lap and within 2 hours she chose me as her Mum. 

I am so lucky to have her and she has transformed from a frightened dog to a happy sprightly puppy.

She heals my soul.

I will never forget Mulle.

Pippa is not here to replace her.

She is friends with my cat Coco and my boyfriend’s dog Bonnie and we hope that our more sensitive loner cat Ostmama will warm to her eventually.

Life is good.

And Then Life Happens

Having to make life choices for Dad

photocredit: Anne Scherliess

I found Dad out of his mind. 

He didn’t see me even though I was standing right in front of him. He tried to take off shoes he wasn’t wearing, didn’t recognize his own dog, couldn’t talk. But cursing was still possible and that he did. Until I helped him to lie down and sleep. 

I put his phone next to the bed and went home to consult with my boyfriend. I called my sisters. One said it might be better to do nothing cause Dad wouldn’t want any doctors involved. The other said we had to act now. 

I knew that any interference from doctors would be against Dad’s will, but he was completely out of his mind, and I feared he had had a stroke. 

If you act quickly on a stroke, normality might be reinstalled. 

So I called the emergency medical services and went back to Dad to gently guide him through what was to come. 

But there was no way. 

His mind was gone. 

He didn’t know who the strange men in his bedroom were or why they were trying to hold his hands or put wraps around his arms to measure his blood pressure. 

When he suddenly got up and went into the kitchen I had to warn them. 

About his firearms. 

That he might feel that this was an attack and he had to defend himself. 

That I didn’t know where his guns were. 

So the police got involved. 

But since they now knew that he was a former policeman and hunter with a gun licence they called for support. 

A SWAT team of 30 people in full armour turned up and surrounded the house. 

The dogs( Dad has 4 very lovely peaceful old dogs) were lost and when the police overwhelmed Dad I was trying to catch them and bring them back into the house. 

Dad was committed to the locked ward and had to stay there for 3 days.

 I felt like a traitor. 

He never wanted to go into any hospital or to any Doctors. 

He mistrusts the authorities.

That’s why he hadn’t treated his diabetes 2. 

Or taken any medication. 

His temporary psychosis was due to- sky-high blood sugar. 
If it had risen any higher he would have died within the hour.

Dad had to stay in hospital for 2 weeks. 

Meanwhile, my boyfriend and I tried to get his house (which was covered with the accumulated dirt and rubbish from the previous years) back to a state that would allow the authorities to say that he could return and live there.

And keep his dogs.

Yesterday I picked Dad up from the hospital. 

He is an old man now. 

He was before but now it is so much more obvious to me.

He is grateful to be back home. 

The first thing he did was say Hi to his dogs. One of them died last night peacefully in his sleep. Seems that he had waited for Dad to come home.

Medical services are visiting Dad twice a day now to make sure that he takes his medication. 

He is due at his doctor’s on Friday. 

Somebody will help me keep the house clean.

Life goes on.

When Worlds Collide

Introducing friends to each other

Photo by Planet Volumes on Unsplash

Today my friend and director auditioned for my other friend and director.
I introduced them to each other and today they actually met.

When I popped in to say Hi and wish them luck I felt all flurry and nervous. 

WHY?

Did I feel responsible for their mutual liking? 

I felt scrutinized. By myself.

Did I act differently with one than with the other? 
Was I authentic when interacting with either of them?

I was so nervous that I wanted to bolt from the room. 
I felt as if something was wrong with me for feeling this way.
It felt revealing.
But revealing of what?

They both mean a lot to me.
If they like each other and it would come to a collaboration it would be fine.
If not, also fine.

I work at both their theatres and these workplaces have never mixed so far.
To see them both in one room felt strange. 
Two worlds colliding.

We just went for a guided tour through the theatre and they really liked each other. They have the same work ethic, the same idealism and enthusiasm. 

I am calm now.

The Importance of Being Beautiful

Why beauty feels like the ticket to be loved

Photo by Jude Mack on Unsplash

When we were little we would watch romantic movies with our parents and Dad would say things like: 
“I wouldn’t push her from my bed”,
which would make me cringe. 

I knew that these jokes hurt Mum. 
I knew that Dad didn’t find Mum attractive or beautiful. 
I knew that he thought she didn’t even try.

Mum had grown up as the 3rd of 5 siblings. They had to flee from East Prussia with their widowed mother when Mum was 8.
She was raised to be humble and modest. No make-up or perfume. That was for cheap girls. Girls who really wanted it.

Mum had always been interested in fashion. She tried to always dress nicely, but never flashy or- God forbid- sexy.
No short skirts or tight fits. When she was 16 she overheard a conversation that she and her sisters “would be protected by men because they were unattractively chubby.”
That hurt. 
She grew up with thin idealisation. The heroines in novels and movies were all lithe and fairy-like.
When she went to become a kindergarten teacher she was forbidden to partake in a dance performance because they didn’t have a dress her size. 
She was size 8 at 5 foot 3. 

When I look at pictures of her, she looks like a curvy Italian film star. 
She was beautiful. 
But she didn’t fit Dad’s bill.

Mum and Dad had never felt that the other was their best choice. 
Mum’s family was worried that Dad might be “too different”.
Dad felt that they were looking down on him.
He was working class, Mum was the daughter of a head forester.
Dad was 28 when he met Mum and had never had a girlfriend before. Too shy. He looked like Alain Delon and knew romantic love only from the movies.

Their fights were scary. 

They didn’t know about couples therapy. 
They thought love was thrown from the heavens. 
Not something you can work on. 

We grew up in constant vigilance. 
Dad could flip in a second. 
We had to be ready to grab Mum and run.
They seemed helpless in their differences.

But in the back of our minds, something stuck. 
“If Mum would look beautiful to Dad, he could love her. 
Then he would treat her with reference.”

My sisters and I are all grown up now.

I know there was not a victim and a villain in my parent’s marriage.
I know that neither class differences nor looks should have been a reason to treat each other the way they did. 
I know they tried their best. 
I know they didn’t know better. 

I know that.

And yet, 

to my sisters and me being beautiful feels like an existential need. 
Like a lifeline.

Failing to be beautiful feels life-threatening. 
Like we couldn’t be loved.

Go figure.