The Lunch Club
The snow was starting to fall, but I had already made up my mind to go. I needed this. I needed to get his monkey off my back, talk to someone. I needed others that understood—that felt my pain, that used this crutch to get through the long days. For years I didn’t realize it was a problem. I buried it deep and threw myself into my work, my acting, numerous Boards I was on. Whatever I could find to do to forget about this void in my life that I just couldn’t seem to—no matter what I tried—fill. So I put on my navy wool peacoat and a red knit beret and trudged out to my car. Can I do this? Can I leave myself so exposed? I’m not sure. I’ve never actually tried before. Admitting there is a problem is admitting failure— that there are things in your life beyond your control. And that is just not me. I’ve always lived by the creed that if I didn’t get something, it wasn’t because I wasn’t pretty enough or smart enough or talented enough, it was because I didn’t want it badly enou