Wrapped.

It’s official: season four of Family Law is now in the can. She’s wrapped, baby. Nowhere to be. No more 5am calltimes. Just wide open spaces ahead and a proverbial glass half full of hope and possibility and also wine, there is wine in there.

It’s hands down the best part of being freshly on hiatus: the freedom. Lazy mornings, skipping a workout if I feel like it and eating the burger WITH the damn bun because there is no fetching pencil skirt to fit into come Monday. My hair can be unwashed, my roots can come in, my skin can live makeup-free (it doesn’t… but it can, is what I’m saying). The overstimulation can dissipate away from my nerves and I can finally sleep nice and heavy with zero alarm anxiety. It’s like letting out a really long bit of gas you’ve been holding onto for, say, like, four months.

This job I’ve chosen is really strange for a million different reasons, but one of them is the sheer about-face sudden intensity of it when you land a role. The long waiting game to booking an actual job is suddenly over and you’re thrust into full throttle mode, working on your feet for 12+ hours and feeling the pressure of needing to stay on top of your game, stay focused, stay engaged, stay kind. There’s little room for error, and even littler room for sleep as your brain buzzes in constant overdrive, memorizing, thinking, preparing. People are touching you pretty much all day in order to hide your tiredness and make you look your best, and then after 12 hours of that, you head home to a family who also wants to touch you because they miss you, and you miss them so of course you say yes to one more story at bed time and stay up too late reconnecting with your partner because it’s worth it, the inevitable exhaustion the next day from lack of sleep. You make sure to prioritize normalcy on the weekends, dragging your tired ass to playdates and picnics, Monday’s court room monologue racing through your head during a game of Clue. You’re also so used to those dreaded Out of Work moments every actor has to live through so you’re determined to stay grateful and enjoy these moments because the finish line is coming and what if you never work again? but no matter— there’s no time in the schedule to worry about that part anyway. It is the epitome of being pulled in several different directions, both mentally and physically and emotionally, and all you can do is marvel at how much those arms can stretch.

God, what a drama queen.

Anyway. Being “ancient” (my son’s words) has taught me one thing: life is constantly ebbing and flowing, and I’m not about to waste any of it worrying about what’s coming next. After approximately 18 million years in this business, it seems one extreme to the other is my jam. I don’t think I’d have it any other way.

At least that’s what I’m saying now. Give it a couple months and I’ll be so anxious about what happens next, I’m gonna be trying to control the movement of the dang sun.

xx