Another time I decided to play with my PTSD. 

We were doing the “knock-on-the-door” exercise with an addition to it. So, in the early version we had an actor inside the class, and the other actor outside the class knocking at the door. The actor inside the class lets another actor in and they start a repetition exercise. The addition here was that the actor inside the class had to bring an independent and fidelity activity, which would fully captivate him, and he had to accomplish this activity in a small amount of time. Of course, the activity and the outcome from not achieving it has to matter. For example, for my first one I broke a cup and had to glue it back in five minutes, because it was my sponsor’s cup and if they knew I broke it, they would have thrown me out of the house. Please, mind that’s just the story I made up for the exercise. But it terrified me deeply. As soon as I set up the timer and started the exercise, everything went wrong: I could not open the glue and had to pierce it with my earring, the glue wasn’t holding the cup together but glued the pieces of the cup to my hands, the clocks were ticking. But the most fascinating part is what it did to me. I was literally going crazy. Even though I didn’t concentrate on the circumstances I made up, they worked for me by just being there. Suddenly, the cup that I broke twenty minutes ago on the street was extremely important, the fear of being left without a place to live stiffened my body. It was excruciating. I didn’t glue the cup back as I wanted. 

And here I had a thought: why don’t I use my trauma to get deeper into the exercise next time? I remembered the second morning of the war, when my family, other people and I had to run away from the factory bomb shelter, because russians were in the building and we heard them shooting. I decided to use this situation and to add a bit to it: there was a five year old girl, really scared and screaming. I had to distract her with something. The only thing I had with me was some envelopes that were lying in my bag. So I decided to make an origami animal for her. And I had to do it quickly to calm the girl down before the russians heard we were there and killed us.

I have never made an origami in my life, so I found a tutorial online and made a screenshot of it. The activity was hard enough for me. I had to accomplish it in 4 minutes and it was very urgent. The given circumstances were as sharp as a knife. I was entirely sure it would  work and the experience from the exercise would be mind blowing. 

I put the envelope, the scissors and my phone with an origami tutorial screenshot on the table. My partner went out, I set the timer and we started. As usual, everything went wrong: I could not fold the paper as needed, could not understand what to do next… But it didn’t help me. Instead of being deeply affected by everything that was going on with me, I felt like my body rejected everything I did. My partner knocked on the door, I let her in, we started repetition. But I felt like everything I do is stupid, like it has no sense. I started to giggle and laugh, but couldn’t understand why. It wasn’t a story to laugh at. I felt like subconsciously I devalued everything I made up – my given circumstances seemed silly, I felt ridiculous. My entire self rejected playing along with me. 

We finished the exercise and had a talk with Scott about it. It was the first time I mentioned my PTSD openly and told him why I wanted to use this set of given circumstances. I don’t remember the exact words he said, but this is what imprinted in my memory:

You don’t need to traumatize yourself to become a better actor. Destroying your mental health is not about acting.

Scott Williams

“You don’t have to play with your trauma or PTSD. You don’t need to traumatize yourself to become a better actor. Destroying your mental health is not about acting. Try using something good for the next exercise, you never know where it might lead you. It’s just the starting point for your journey, but it doesn’t indicate where it will lead you.”

And you know what? It worked. My further activities had nothing to do with my trauma and every journey that I had was unique and led me to different places. It is such a relief to see that it is not about using your traumas to act. I believe acting is about joy, about incredible experience and journey you get every time you act. And I’m so happy that unlike other acting techniques, I don’t have to abuse myself with all the pain I have inside over and over again.

This time I’d like to talk about a very sensitive topic for me: PTSD and how Meisner classes help me cope with it. 

It is hard enough to be forced to immigration and settle in a new country, being completely alone, knowing absolutely nobody and starting over in every aspect of your life. And having an ongoing war in your homeland at the same time makes it almost impossible to bear. Most of the time I feel like I clutch to every possibility to distract myself and create at least an illusion of my life as it was before, doing my best to cut off the desire to run away back home. And sometimes I just ignore my true feelings and force myself into having what you call “a normal life”.

But once you ignore those feelings, they always get out in a very unexpected way. And what they might teach you is priceless. 

First time that happened to me, we were just starting to explore “the knock on the door” exercise. Very simple and never easy: one actor stays in the room, another actor goes out and knocks at the door. Then, the actor who was in the room opens the door (or not) and they start a repetition exercise. I had never had any problems with walking out of the room and knocking at the door, but letting somebody in was a huge issue for me. Especially that day, as I had a huge desire to rebel. No idea why, it was just there. I did the first exercise when I had to knock on the door, and then it was my turn to be in the room and my partner to knock. So, the exercise started. I dived into the conversation with Scott and other students, and then… I heard the knock on the door. And what happened next I still cannot fully comprehend. I felt like I didn’t want to open the door. I looked at Scott, I was very sure I didn’t have the impulse to open the door. Scott kindly smiled and asked me whether it was my impulse or my decision. I couldn’t fully figure it out, so I said that it was my decision. I thought that I’m just being stubborn and decided to push myself. I stood up and physically felt that it was hard to breathe, everything in me resisted opening that damn door. It felt like every muscle in my body was overstressed, as if I was pushing the walls that were coming down at me. I remember trying to make myself make a step towards the door, but my body just bent over and I said: “I can’t… I CAN’T”. Scott said: “Then the exercise is over”. 

I sat on the chair, watching other students do the exercise after and was nearly crying. I felt crushed and sincerely couldn’t understand what was going on with me there. I was going home after the lessons and replaying the whole thing over and over again, digging in my memory moment by moment until I finally figured it out. I felt that it wasn’t about the exercise or the door… It was about me. “I can’t” was about my life. Scott saw that before me and stopped me in the right moment, so I could reflect on it. Because if not then, I would rebel till my last and never see the real reason behind. 

I felt that it wasn’t about the exercise or the door… It was about me. “I can’t” was about my life.

It reminds me how important it is to be honest with myself. Not to ignore myself. It’s okay to have PTSD, it’s okay to be hurt and sad. Some things in life we cannot change, but we can grow through them. I don’t need to run after social stereotypes, “fake it to make it” and imitate a successful life. Every lesson here teaches me to notice myself, be conscious of how I feel in each moment of my life and acknowledge my true impulses.

You could have done better. 

They are so great at this, you’d be lucky to have at least a drop of their talent. 

You’re not good enough. Probably never will be. 

You should just walk out of here and quit trying.

Every time I hear the voice of my inner critic, I feel paralyzed. Like I have the energy to break away, but instead of doing that, I run in place, as if I’m in a typical nightmare. Like I cannot switch to my full potential because the inner critic draws my energy, attentively observing and stating everything that in his opinion I’m doing wrong. All of us have this annoying overconfident voice in our heads coming out of literally nowhere. And must I say, the timing of his appearance is always really bad. 

I was impatiently waiting for this lesson. In fact, impatiently is how I wait for every lesson, as the further we go, the more I want to know and the less I want to stop. Every second is priceless. And today, between the very simple, but never easy exercises, Scott talked about our inner critic:

“We were born without our inner critic.”

I gasped. Just the thought of being free of this pitiless monster made me want to cry…

and run back to the time when I was a toddler. But the interesting fact is that the primary intent of the inner critic is good – he wants to keep us safe. Though his performance might be weird and generously endowed with our parents’ qualities and admonitions. It makes perfect sense: we were born without a hint that something or someone can hurt us, but later on our parents and society established the borders we shouldn’t cross and told us who we should be and how we should behave.

“We will never get rid of our inner critic… But we can make a deal with him.”

The way I deal with my inner critic is very simple. I call this “moment of courage” and use it literally every time I’m anxious when doing something I really care about. Because those are the moments when our inner critic hits us the hardest. So, the secret is to literally throw yourself in the situation that you’re scared of facing. Let’s take our lessons and Meisner exercises, for instance. From time to time, I’ll be doubting myself, comparing myself to others, over exaggerating, and my inner critic would want me to sit in my place and never go out there to practice, because I might be hurt or might make a mistake. He doesn’t want me to feel any kind of pain. So I’m doing the opposite: as soon as I hear the question “Who wants to go next?”, I’ll be taking my moment of courage to take a step forward. After I’m out, there’s no point for the inner critic to talk to me, as there is nothing to keep me safe from. He shuts up because he knows that he has to let me do my best in the situation that I’ve put myself in. 

The other interesting fact is that there is literally no place for the inner critic in Meisner exercises. Neither for my inner critic, nor for my partner’s or any of Scott’s students’ inner critics. The speed is so quick, that there is no possibility for him to keep up with the pace of an exercise and all the crazy amount of impulses splashing out from us every second. I even think it was the first time after a while that I’ve experienced what it’s like to be without the inner critic. It’s so… Freeing. And you know what? He always tells us we are not good enough, but it is when he’s silent we are at our best, because there’s nobody to cut our wings.

Part 1

My first week with The Impulse Company. I’m finally here! It seems like I’ve been waiting for this moment for such a long time. I was so anxious and afraid: what if I’m no longer able to do what I love after everything I’ve been through? My hands were literally shaking. But I braced myself and entered my personal Hogwarts, still afraid I’m no longer a magician.

Part 2

The war has changed me, as it has changed all Ukrainians. It has made me stronger and made me question everything I believe in, but it has also left me more vulnerable than I could ever have imagined myself being. I feel like I am touched by everything, unwillingly responding to everything that’s going on around me and within me. 

I tried to figure out what these changes mean to me. If they are with me for good – can I live with them or will they ruin me?

Weirdly, I couldn’t stop thinking about it all morning. And when I came to the class, Scott showed me the answer without even knowing the question.

Part 3

We did one exercise, quite simple, but so insightful. Sitting in front of a partner, notice something specific about them, say that to them, receive the same words in answer, answer back with the same phrase and so on for some time. At some point, the magic begins: you’re no longer saying the words, you have relationship, you are developing a story (or I would even say – a story is developing you) as you let yourself see your partner, truthfully respond to them and be present in the moment. And sitting there, in front of my partner, I realised how precious my vulnerability is. How responsive and true it makes me, how alive and free I felt. And then, observing other students doing the exercise, I realised how special, beautiful and human this vulnerability makes us. And impossible to take our eyes off.

Our vulnerability is a great gift we’ve been given. It makes us unique.

Part 4

All of us, actors all over the world, are under this huge pressure: working day jobs to earn money, trying to make our path into the theatre and film industry, to actually do what we love, networking, developing ourselves and our skills, and trying to have a good life. Sometimes it feels like I’m balancing on the top of the Shard, juggling with knives and singing a song. Which makes me think: how do you preserve your vulnerability in such a high-stress acting life?

For now, I realise that the answer is quite simple: you just let yourself be. 

Works for me.

Beginners Call

As my first acting teacher said: “You cannot teach someone to act, but they can learn”.

Briefly, that’s what I’ve been doing my whole life. And if we are talking about the acting profession (and I believe any other creative profession) – learning has a beginning, but no end. I never feel like I know enough, I never feel that I have reached a level where I can stop developing. And the great thing is, that even when I develop as a person, I develop as an actor. Because I am my own instrument in a way. In the same way that a pianist has a piano, a painter has his painting equipment… actors have themselves.

And that’s both the good and the bad part.

Act 1

I learned a lot. In university, I, like most of my fellow students, were taught Stanislavsky and Chekhov’s methodologies. And I always wondered: why does the world have so many acting techniques, yet we are limiting ourselves with these two? I mean, we all aim for the same result, but still.

I worked a lot. I starred in films and TV series; I did theatre: physical and improvisational, and I worked in touring theatre for about four years. And then Covid hit and spoiled everything. If only I had known that those were the good times, right? All of us had quite a big pause in our creative work and I definitely felt like I wasn’t in my best acting shape. And then I saw that Ivanna Chubbuck’s Studio had opened in Kyiv, so I headed to learn there. The best part was that my teacher there had studied the Meisner technique, so we talked her into teaching it to us.

I felt like I was learning to walk again. I got to discover the simplest yet hardest things – following my impulses and not correcting them. It was like coming back to my real self. Not filtered and shaped by society. I felt free.

Intermission

And then the war started. I was so afraid that everything was over and that I might never have a chance to do what I love again. But even then, almost unconsciously, part of me analyzed everything that was going on with me and those around me, so that I could put it into my scripts or my acting roles.

Act 2

It’s different now. I work at two non-creative jobs, sometimes I write at night and I feel such a terrifying lack of acting. It’s almost unbearable. I do realize that I’m lucky, because I have actual jobs and I earn money to live on. But, sadly, it does not fulfill me. I don’t feel whole. So I started to search for a suitable place to practice. I didn’t care about fancy names or star coaches. I wanted to develop, I wanted to find a safe place, a real place, where I could make mistakes and explore myself, I wanted to feel alive. And more – to be alive while acting.

At one of the networking events I attended, I overheard people discussing The Impulse Company. Of course, I googled them as soon as I heard the name and it hit me: this was exactly what I needed. Meisner! The perfect path to my true self. The perfect path to feeling alive again. 

After another grey and tiring day at work, I was so desperate that I wrote a huge letter to The Impulse Company and sent it straight away. I thought: I will dare to do this. I will take every chance I can, because I cannot exist without creating. Yet still, I expected nothing.

So imagine my excitement when I got an invitation for a Zoom call from those beautiful Impulse people and the invitation to start learning in January! The thought of coming back to acting keeps me going.

Now I repeat to myself:

Dare, always dare.

How I Began.

I had always had my head in the clouds. Getting lost in the woods in search of real elves? Easy. Talking to imaginary friends more than to real people? You got it. Pretending to be my twin sister (with a very strange anime name and a horrible temper I must say) and making other people believe I was her? Duh! I’m really proud of that one: I lasted for more than two weeks. Until my friends asked both of us, my twin and me, to go out and play. I got totally busted, but that didn’t stop me from making up other stories. 

I had my head in the clouds. I still do. And sadly, I had a lot of reasons not to get out of there into the strange incomprehensible world that surrounded me. Everything in reality seemed to knock me off my feet. I feel like I had to constantly fight for the right to be myself: I had never fit anywhere. 

School? I hated it. I was curvy, strange, with a sharp birdy nose, always dreaming about something and I was bullied for… Everything I was and others weren’t. To run away, I dived into my stories, worlds and characters even more: life is so much better, when you add a little fantasy to it. I even simulated I was ill not to go there. Once my illness-acting was so good that my mom took me to the hospital and they left me there for some kind of treatment. I was so freaked out by the needles and so angry at myself for my cowardness, that this was the turning point: when I got back to school I started fighting off. I must admit I got pretty good at it. I hoped that life after school would get easier. Oh how I wish that was true.

Drama School Drama. 

I didn’t really fit in at my first acting university either. I did play a lot of main roles because I was one of the hardest workers, but I was constantly reminded not to believe in my very bright future because I wasn’t pretty enough. On the top of that, I was the only alto at the singing classes and had a strange attraction to Louis Armstrong songs. My teacher was outraged because a girl can’t have a voice like that. «Girls have to be sopranos.» 

I had so many doubts in myself… Am I enough? Am I allowed to be myself? Do I have to fit? Why? 

Even the thought of giving up my dream is unbearable to me. But once I found myself on my way there, I was so tired of fighting that I thought: “I’m going to try one last time. If it doesn’t work, I’m done”. 

So I went to some random event (don’t ask me how I got there) and sang my heart out. One man asked me if he could come and listen more. I said I don’t sing because my voice doesn’t fit. And then he said the words I still repeat to myself: “God gave you a talent. You have no right not to use it or doubt it.” I am not the most believing person, but I feel like he had a point.

Home. And War. 

Because every time I was on stage I had this feeling: I am home. I can be whoever I want and even myself and I will be accepted. So I had to work harder. And I made it to the theater stage and film sets no matter what I’ve been told. Because I knew where I was going. 

And then the war started. When I literally had to fight for myself. When everything I achieved didn’t count anymore.

It’s different now. I’m standing in front of a huge and terrifying unknown in a city where no one knows me. But this time I know: I am enough. 

And so are you.

Meet Elena Sophya.

Sometimes it is in the darkest times that we find light and our strongest will to live. Sounds tricky, right? This is how I found myself here, in London. 

My name is Elena Sophya, I am a Ukrainian actor and scriptwriter who recently moved to the UK because of the war in my country. I remember being a 10-year-old child and writing myself letters from the future me, saying everything will be alright, I will be a famous actor and author, living in London and having a happy life doing what I love.

I told myself that no matter how hard it is, I have to carry on pursuing my dream. That I can never give up.

I remember proudly walking to my acting classes at university with an enormous golden bag with  “LONDON” in huge letters on it. I bet you could see me a mile away. 

So I always had this feeling – I have to be here. And now I am. But I never thought the price would be so unbearably big and horrifying. Even so, I have never felt the will to live so strongly and I have never wanted to do what I love as much as I do now. 

Saying that it is hard moving to another country because of the war in your homeland and starting your whole life from scratch is saying nothing. It’s constant burnout, doing more than you could imagine you are capable of, pushing yourself beyond your limits, drowning in an ocean of horrifying news, non-stop animal fear for your loved ones at home and so very much trying to hold yourself together. 

But also, it’s about being happy to be alive, that you have been given the biggest gift to just be. I am going to share my story with you and tell you about my three dreams: life before the war, the war, and my life in London. I speak of them as dreams because it’s hard to understand whether any of these are real. All I know for sure is that my will to live and to create is. 

And I hope that by sharing my story with you I will gently remind both you and myself that we must never give up on life. Because it is the most incredible gift we can ever be given.