A woman who will lose her child to a rare metabolic disease. I read about it in the news this morning. Her story stirs emotions within me. I feel fear, sadness, and helplessness. I keep reading, and her story takes a turn. Despite the hopelessness, this mother has not given up hope; she is determined. I can feel it—she inspires me.

Suppose this woman were a character, and I had the opportunity to tell her story. Then immersing myself in her world would come naturally, like a chameleon seamlessly adapting its color to its surroundings. At the same time, questions arise in my mind. How does she process this grief? How does she cope with such deep pain? Does she suppress it, or does she fully experience it? How does her environment respond, and how does that affect her? How does she view the future, and what will this experience bring her? I question her and ask myself the same questions.

After gathering as much information as possible, I return to my emotions. This is an intense moment during the preparation because I immediately feel my body resisting. I don’t want to confront that deep pain; I’m afraid of what I might find there, yet I go toward it. How I reach that place each time is an adventure. It feels like standing on a ten-meter-high diving board, looking down, feeling the fear, wanting to turn back—preferably via the ladder—but I jump anyway.

Below, there’s a moment of silence, as if I’ve just awakened. I feel liberated, reborn. I did it. I felt the fear and overcame it. This describes the process I go through with every character I play. The deeper the fall, the greater the thrill.

" Courage is not the absence of fear, but the overcoming of it."