My alarm clock went off at 6:45 this morning, and I cried.
I’m not kidding.
“Not Throwing Away My Shot” started to play on my phone, my brain turned on, my eyes opened, and I literally burst into tears.
I’m officially “sobbing when my alarm goes off in the morning” tired.
And it’s not without reason.
I’m “we’re 10 days from opening a Sondheim show, working three jobs, haven’t had a decent meal in days, don’t have time to do my laundry, haven’t vacuumed my house in two weeks, I think my cat has forgotten what I look like, and I have to schedule time just to see my girlfriend” tired.
I’m “I’ve lived in the public eye since I was 13” tired.
I’m “my body is rebelling, things are swelling up, I can’t sleep, my anxiety is out of control, and I’m getting sick” tired.
And I’ve had enough.
Ever since I was a kid, I’ve lived very openly. Between my dad’s political career, my desire to perform on stage and screen, my own political and advocacy aspirations, and the career path I followed for many years, I’ve always had a very public life. And I’ve done some incredible things with many, many amazing people. I’ve been in movies, on stage, met stars and presidents, and have traveled more than people twice my age.
But now, I’m tired.
I’m tired, and I’m burned out.
When I realized that the thought of holding auditions for my winter show made me groan, I knew something was wrong. When I started to resent the show I’m in, I knew something was very wrong. When I burst into tears at the thought of having to get out of bed, something snapped.
I can’t – no, I WON’T – keep going on like this.
It’s time to stop.
I said a few days ago on social media to watch that space for an announcement about a big life change – Well, this is it.
I’m done living publically.
I’m in my last show.
When Into the Woods closes on November 5th, I’m taking an undetermined amount of time off from public life. No more rallies. No more acting. No more running big festivals in town. No more TV appearances and radio spots and 18 hour days and never having time for a personal life.
I want to be anonymous.
Well, as anonymous as one can be in a small town where one is already well established.
So, starting November 5th at the final curtain call, I’m saying NO.
No to commitments that would suck my time and energy. No to just about everything I’m not getting paid to do.
I’m going to spend the winter painting my apartment, cuddling my cat, drinking far too much tea and coffee, visiting my sister in NYC, hanging out with my girlfriend, working on my Shel Silverstein shape study at the art studio, and staring at the fucking walls until my brain no longer hurts and I have nothing left undone on my to-do list that’s become more of a “someday, I wish” list.
I want to be able to say yes to my friends when they want to hang out. I want to say yes to activities at my beloved UUCV.
I want to say yes to evenings in my apartment, cooking dinner and sitting in a hot bath with a cup of tea and my Don McClean and John Denver station playing on Pandora.
I’m saying yes to me.
And if that means saying NO to public life, then so be it.
So come see Into the Woods. It’ll likely be the last time I’m on stage for a good long while – very possibly the last time ever.
13 days left.
And then, hopefully, I’ll never cry when the alarm goes off again.