Why I quit acting

I always dreamt that I would be an actor.

In my first year of college, I took an Introduction to Acting class, which was part of my English: Drama & Theatre degree. Our end of the semester performance was a monologue from Spoon River Anthology ​by Edgar Lee Masters. The residents of Spoon River, which is a fictional small town, each have a poetic monologue. Out of the thirty monologues the professor had selected for the class, I chose ‘Rosie Roberts’. She is a prostitute at Madam Lou’s and she confesses that she killed the son of a merchant prince in her monologue. 

This character had so much resentment towards society. I had trouble focusing on her anger. I didn’t know how to express it well enough. My professor told me I had to work on it. He didn’t really give me specific instructions. Just “you need to work on your anger”. That was all. 

Two days before the presentation in class, a guy ghosted me. It was all too sudden that I couldn’t comprehend what was happening. I was innocent and naive. It was a downward spiral from there.

Did I say something offensive? Did he hear a weird gossip about me? Was I not interesting enough anymore? Am I not enough? The thoughts kept going and going. I felt empty. It hurt my self-confidence.

And then I got upset. The thing is, I wanted answers. I wanted to know why he ghosted me. How can someone just leave like that? What a rude thing to do? How dare he? And as time went by, anger bled out. 

I performed Rosie Roberts in this state. Feeling rejected. Annoyed at the guy. Mad at how he made me doubt myself. Furious that I didn’t have control over some things in life. I don’t remember much of how I performed because I couldn’t stop crying.

On the flip side of the anger, there was sorrow. Heartbreak. I felt miserable that this event was causing me this much stress. It was nothing. I expected more from someone when he didn’t feel the same way about me. Simple as that, nothing more to it. (Probably. I don’t know, I never asked him. But that’s what I suspect.) What a ridiculous thing to cry over. It was humiliating. I was disappointed in myself for crying over a guy more than anything. I thought I was stronger than that. And so tears kept coming. 

So basically I used Stanislavski’s method triggering my most recent emotional trauma. A very very bad idea. (Dear reader, do not do this.) I was tired. It was a mere two-minute performance and I felt emotionally drained. 

And I thought, “Can I keep doing this?”

During the same time, I was working as an Assistant Stage Manager for a student-run production on campus. I was working backstage for a prop-heavy show. 

One of the actors was going through a break-up with her boyfriend. She was one of those actresses who stood out. If you were in an audition room with her, you knew you wouldn’t get that part. Every director wanted her. You couldn’t feel jealous either because you knew she deserved it. It was kind of like a fact that she would become a ‘successful’ actress. Whatever ‘success’ meant to her. 

When she arrived to perform one night, she was a total mess. Even if you didn’t know her situation, you could easily tell that she was going through something. She silently cried in the green room. She continued crying backstage. But moments before she went out to the audience, she took a deep breath, fixed her posture, grinned, and skipped into the spotlight. She played a cheerful character in this show and despite what she was going through, she delivered. And after she finished her first scene, she went straight to the green room to cry some more. She had about five minutes before I had to go get her for her next scene. 

And I thought, “I don’t have what it takes”. 

This is not a sad ending. I transitioned my love for acting to production. I worked as a technician, designer, director, production manager, stage manager, and eventually, a writer with multiple experiences under my belt. Writing to you about why I quit acting. 

It’s a happy ending.