Yesterday, two men came into the vintage shop I work on a mission to find barstools. As I led them to one set of three stools, I said,

“They’re great, but will need some TLC.”

“TLC?” said one man.

“Yes. Tender loving care,” I replied.

“You mean like the band? The girl group?” said the other guy.

“Oh. No…I just mean…TLC is a phrase.” (How do I explain this?)

“But like the singers, right?” said the first guy.

“I…no…uhh…well, here they are. I’ll let you have a moment to think about them,” I said, and moved quickly back to the front of the store to process what just transpired.

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I recently had a doctor’s appointment. After filling out the exorbitant amount of paperwork, I sat in the waiting room for an hour. Finally, the nurse’s assistant called my name and ushered me back to an exam room. Sitting in front of the computer, she went, line by line, over my paperwork.

“So here, you didn’t fill out a state of birth,” she said.

“Oh, because I was born in The Netherlands. I wrote it on the line here,” I pointed.

“The Netherlands?”

“Yes, or Holland, I guess.”

“But what’s the state?” she asked, confused.

“Well…uh…there is no state. It’s a country,” I fumbled trying to find the proper explanation.

“But there has to be a state,” she insisted.

“I, uh, The Netherlands is a foreign country. It’s in Europe. Not the United States. Soooo…” I’ve run out of words by this point.

“Is it in California?” she asked.

“No.”

“Well…I’ll just put Alabama,” she replied, frustrated with my lack of help.

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On a walk with my sweet pup two days ago, a passerby stopped me and exclaimed,

“That is a great looking dog!”

“Aw, thanks. She thinks so, too,” I quipped.

“What kind of dog is it?”

“She’s just a mutt.” I didn’t feel like going into my usual schtick of her made up breed name and regaling the man with the story of her crazy birth.

“Oh, so from England?” he asked.

“Um, no…just a mutt.” (What?!)

“She’s from England, right? Mutt?”

“Oh…no…mutt is just a…she’s a mix.”

“Ohhhhh, so from America!” he exclaimed, glad to finally get to the bottom of the case.

“I…yeah…have a great walk!” I replied, and walked the opposite direction as quickly as I could.

…that to be with those I like is enough. – Walt Whitman.

I saw that quote on Pinterest today, and couldn’t repin quickly enough.

Being a military kid, I moved often and was consistently made to prove myself in new groups of peers. It’s part of why I’m able to read people as easily as I can, and it’s part of why I have a proclivity towards people pleasing, and it’s part of what has made me dislike people (the “cool” people, the cliques, the snobs, the people you have to prove your worth to in order to receive friendship) as I get older.

The people pleasing is under control.

The disliking people is getting under control.

But, y’all, spending time with people you like? We can all control that.

So take today’s good word from Walt Whitman and get out there. Trim off the folks that make you feel menial and inconsequential, and spend time investing with those you love you, warts and all. (Which is probably not me, because warts make me uncomfortable. Even typing the word gives me the willies.)

Life is short, and your life is INCREDIBLY VALUABLE. Don’t waste a minute of it trying to be someone or something else. Spend it with the ones who like you for being you.

If you’ve read this blog over the past year, or you’re friends with me on Facebook, or follow me on Twitter (or heck, even Pinterest), or are a personal friend that has run for the hills in the midst of yet another downward spiral, you’ve probably gathered that I struggle with a fair amount of sadness. And yes, a lot of that is due to the discouragement of this industry I’ve thrown myself into. But the gut honest truth is, I’ve struggled with depression for over a decade.

Recently, I thought it was time for me to curb putting all my sadness out into the interwebs, because I didn’t want to bring people down anymore. And yes, maybe there were elements of judgement from some folks that helped me realize not everyone needed to know the ins and outs of the darker side of Rachael. But here’s the reason I’ve been fairly open about it, and why I think it’s okay to be even more open about it:

I have not, in my life on this earth, experienced the Christian church discuss the crippling, bone crushing darkness that depression brings. And as a Christian, I think there should be more of that.

Today, I woke up and read that a well-known pastor’s 27-year old son committed suicide, after struggling with depression for well over a decade. And my heart breaks for him. And his family. And I got scared. And I knew that if talking about depression openly, even if it’s on my silly blog, can allow even one other person a moment to rest more easily, then I’m going to do it.

In October, I finally decided to get help. I’m on meds for my depression, and I’m on the wait list for a clinic that has a sliding scale therapy appointments. When I told friends of my decision, the reactions were mixed. Some Christians were bothered, letting me know that medication for depression was silly, and prayer would be the real healer. Some non-Christians sneered, and seemingly took joy in letting me know they found it very interesting that someone who believed in God wouldn’t have it all together. And while neither of these reactions helped, I had to retract my people pleasing ways and remember I was making a decision to get better for MYSELF. Not for them.

I don’t know that I have any wisdom to spread here…I just long for a time when Christians can have open, intense, non-judgmental discourse about depression. (And a few other vitally important things…but I suppose I’ll save that for now.)

I’m not proud of my depression. It still feels like a an embarrassing part of me that will drive people away from me. But I accept it. I accept getting better. And I accept that medication and therapy does not make me a lesser person, or a lesser Christian. And I allow anyone the freedom and room to be open with me about their pains.

I’m the furthest thing from perfect you’ll ever meet. And so are you. And that’s why this is perfect.

I love you,

Rach

Today, Dutch and I were lost in thought and took a different walking route. It’s an overcast morning in Los Angeles (which I’m thankful for), and there weren’t a lot of people out. We walked along a nicely manicured grassy knoll where handfuls of homeless men and women were sleeping. Dutch and I were creeping by quietly, when a van pulled up. Out hopped a Jewish man – prayer shawl, beard, curls and yarmulke – with boxes of food. He also creeped up quietly, to each homeless man and woman, and unloaded parcels of food next to them. Never said a word…didn’t want to wake them. But gave them something good to wake up to.

We kept walking, and came to a park I’d never been in. There was a man with wooden samurai swords practicing some kind of very slow martial art on an empty basketball court. It was gorgeous.

And then a dog owner was throwing a tennis ball to his pit/boxer mix. The pup was so focused on the ball, he ran straight into a concrete wall and flipped over. The dog was okay. But the scene was HILARIOUS.

Just loved getting out and experiencing new parts of LA today.

Yep. Magic. They’re made of pixie dust and powdered sugar and gummie bears.

Moms have that military strength that can wrap fitted sheets around your mattress like you never can. Moms know when it’s time to get on your hands and knees and scrub the kitchen floor, instead of sweeping and Swiffer-Wet-Jet-ting. Moms know what pieces of wood in your house need Old English love from time to time. Moms know how to love what you love, spoil you with the right amount of love, support, tulips, shoes and home-cooked meals.

At least mine does.

Tomorrow marks a week of having my dearest mother in town. Among her magic qualities is the sixth sense to know when her kids need an in-person hug. In one week, she transformed my little home. It’s cleaner, more organized, and more full of love than it ever has been. She let me sleep in…walked my pup…and offered love and support whenever the moments in life that brought her here felt too big for me to bear. My mom is pure magic. She’s quick to laugh. She isn’t easily offended. Her first thoughts go to how she can make others feel at home and comfortable. She’s genuine and kind and interested in helping where she can.

But now she’s headed back home. Le sigh.

Loves, call your mothers. Let them know you love them. They worry. They want the best for you. No matter what.

And Momma Kahne? Come back soon. Please?

At the Observatory...

…here are two little blogs worth your time.

Ang Lee :: A never-ending dream

Naomi Watts :: It only takes one

Encourage a dreamer today.

So, I know I’m generally a sad sack on this here blog. That’s cause lately* I’m a sad sack in life. But I’ve had moments of humor, and I’d like to share them with you.

Jane Lynch came into west elm. I didn’t realize until I was bagging up her purchases and she sang, “Thank you soooo muuuuccchhh!” to me, that I had been singing to her the entire time. Like, “Is there anything I can helllpppp you wiiitttthhh?” and such. Oof. I don’t think I’ll be called in for a Glee audition any time soon.

If you’ve ever seen me in west elm, my way to engage with my customers is through humor. I’m terribly funny. Unless you’re rude. Then I am a stone cold force you have to apologize to in order to receive my assistance. (Did I mention my servant’s heart comes with rules?) Well, on this particular day, I was hammin’ it up for a customer (shrouded in large sunglasses and a wool hat) who could not be bothered with my witty pokes. I didn’t care, I just kept on keepin’ on. But while I was ringing up her purchases, she asked where the bathroom was. After I directed her and she walked off, a realization slowly crept into my mind. I turned to a colleague who was staring at me and he simply said, “Um, yeah, Rach. That’s Kristen Wiig.” UGH. I stinkin’ love her and she thought I was trying to out-funny her! I also won’t be auditioning for SNL any time soon. Blergh.

I have a Bob Odenkirk story that will make your head spin…but it’s long and drawn out and you need to see it in person. Suffice it to say, after I couldn’t keep my cool any longer, I man giggled (yes, this is possible) and let him know (in front of his wife) that I loved him. Sigh.

I’ve also been working with a co-worker on establishing a character called The Mexican Hulk. Alex is from Mexico and he rarely gets angry. But I’d like him to, and I have this idea that he’d turn into a hulk, only with quick strums of a guitar and castanets. Think about it. It’s HILARIOUS.

Alright. Not so sad sack all the time, right? High five! But in my day to day, I’d recommend all of you read Love Does by Bob Goff. It’s been a consistent laugh and salve to a parched heart.

Love love love all of you.

*Lately is open to interpretation. We could argue it’s been for the last decade. But that’s less than half of my life, so I’ll call it “lately.”

Five weeks into my life in Los Angeles, I wrote a short post on how things were going and what advice I was given on the whole acting world. Approximately 151 weeks later, I have more thoughts on the matter.

When I first got here, everyone had an idea or formula of how to gain representation and jobs. But I think the best advice can be summed up into this: Work hard. Put your head down, put blinders on, and work. Beyond that, be true to yourself. Don’t become what you think your acting coach wants you to be, or your reps, or your friends who work more than you do, or even a casting director. You have something that no one else has. Remember that daily.

You’ll be made a lot of promises on a regular basis out here. Promises of an audition, promises of a job, promises of a part written just for you, promises of a callback, promises that you’re the best the director has seen. And not one promise may pan out. This is when the wide-eyed hope and excitement starts to dwindle into discouragement and insecurity…but please take a note from sweet Conan O’Brien, and don’t become bitter. If there’s anything to wage war on, it’s bitterness. The entertainment industry is chockful of bitter, angry people who are still plugging away because it’s what they want, but they want everyone in their path to pay for the slights they’ve received along the way. I speak from experience when I say bitterness is the easiest thing in the world to give yourself over to…but the only person it truly hurts is yourself. So fight like the dickens to keep bitterness at bay. Thick skin and a soft heart. That’s what you need to chase.

One of the best ways I think you can do this is to surround yourself with people who love you. It means the WORLD to have family and friends far away encourage you…but there’s something about having a friend who can come over for coffee and laugh and cry and hug you in person. Find your community. Find a community of actors and non actors alike. And remind yourself of other hobbies. I love reading, writing, horseback riding, arranging flowers, hiking and walking on the beach. Annndddd, this is not my online dating profile. But when I stop investing in those little things I love, and focus only on the pursuit of this dream that is more out of my control than within my control, everything gets a little darker.

Over these three years, I’ve seen (and experienced) some extreme forms of human behavior resulting from the ups and downs this industry creates.

If you struggle with anger, you’ll become the worst version of yourself.

If you struggle with self-image issues, you’ll give yourself over to disease.

If you struggle with sadness, you’ll be sunk.

If you struggle with people pleasing, you’ll be manipulated.

And likewise…

If you’re blessed with patience, kindness, joy, and understanding, you’ll be tested.

Three years in and I’ve experienced the lowest lows of my life so far. I’ve also learned a heckuva lot. So, to someone that is just starting out on this path, I’d say this: Do not find your validation in this industry. Do not find your validation in any person or project or promise. Acting coaches will let you down. Managers will treat you poorly. People will try to use you for their own personal gain. But I know the deep surge of satisfaction and joy that comes when you’re working on a project you love…and that’s what keeps us coming back. So if that’s worth the rest of the hurts, then keep going.

But don’t let sadness or bitterness have the last word. You’re better than that.

Dear Diary -

What a week. You have a birthday, and everything goes to pot.

While restocking succulents, planters, and bars of bizarre high end soap that part of me wants to try, and part of me knows it will make me break out, I remembered Jenna Fischer. My sweet friend Joey sent me a blog she wrote in the early days of The Office, when the cast wasn’t known and they were sitting on their computers on set creating MySpace profiles for themselves. But she wrote a great blog addressing what actors should expect in Los Angeles. (You can read that here.) But as I was stacking planters on top of each other, only to have them collapse every time a customer asked for a price on a hamper, I remembered part of her blog that I had brushed aside when I was making the choice to move here.

“I know how hard it can be when you first get out here.  Go out and meet as many people as you can.  Create a family for yourself of creative, supportive people.”

And it clicked. Part of why I think every move and moment feels so difficult out here, is I don’t have a community of people surrounding me. In the general sense, yes. I just had a birthday party IN THE VALLEY and great people showed up. But this has also been a month of losing good friends – some to jobs, some for other reasons, and one for a heartbreaking reason. I have a very particular, bizarre schedule, so having friends in a similar boat who you can see on a regular basis has been one of the biggest joys of my time in LA recently. But I feel as though that’s been stripped from me, and it’s worn me down more quickly than I could have anticipated.

I know, Diary, I know. I have a lot of wonderful hearts that care for me out here. I trust that. But when your schedules never allow your paths to cross…time gets lonely…and loneliness leads to tears…and tears lead me to put myself to bed at 7:45 pm every night because it’s my only way to escape.

So…here we are again. Wrestling with what the answer is and if my particular life really is going to be fraught with this much sadness.

Guess I’ll head to bed.

And sweet friends…near and far…I miss you so much. Wish you wanted to live in LA and come over for coffee and tea and my new juicing experiments.

‘Night.

Rach

…I learned from my friends.

From Kathrine Guthrie, I know you should never use fabric softener on your towels, because it takes away their absorbent quality.

From Jan Eckert, I know Chuck’s are valid walking shoes, and look cuter if you only tie them halfway up and fold the tongue over.

From Ramon de Ocampo, I know there truly is a difference drinking wine from the proper glass, rather than a plastic cup.

From Gina Nykerk, I know Gluten Free Dreams Chocolate Chip Cookie Mix truly is the supreme g-free box mix.

From Joey Ciccoline, I know keyboard shortcuts, like ©, ®, and easy linking within an email/im/blog post.

From Chris Sill, I know black and brown are colors you can pair together. (This was groundbreaking for me in 2002.)

From Suzanne Norman, I know how to take a screenshot (and still recite her when teaching others: “Hold down Command + Shift + $. Why? Because screenshots are moonnneeeyyy!”).

From Lisa Milone, I know washing your hair with tough anti-dandruff shampoo (even when you don’t have a dandruff problem) keeps your hair from getting greasy for a day or two longer.

From Paul Padgett, I know turning off your car when you’re waiting for a friend saves more gas then just letting it run.

From Carly Rae Nelson, I know putting butter on your pasta after draining it will keep it from sticking together like “cheesecake.”

From Lee Beaman, I know letting a slice of cheese get slightly bubbly on the skillet before cracking an egg over it is the supreme way to make scrambled eggs.

From Annie Williams, I know mixing a piece of gold in a room of silver is actually stunning. And hot rollers can actually save you in a pinch.

From Luke Hooper, I know freezing water in those small, waxed Dixie Cups is a better way to ice your knees after running.

From Jessie Miller, I know temporary tattoos are generally a really good idea.

From Justin Ford, I know putting tomatoes in the fridge takes away their flavor.

Am feeling particularly grateful for all the people God has interwoven in my life today. Thank you, friends. For your practical advice, and your not-so-practical advice, and your consistent love. I consider myself way smarter than I probably am because of you.