Kathleen Turner rose to fame in the 1980s as a result of her strength and beauty; many consider her to be one of Hollywood’s most beautiful actors.
Over the years, the actress has faced numerous challenging and favorable situations, and her perseverance has carried her through them both.Kathleen Turner was raised in a home with four other children, despite her difficult past.
She and her siblings were raised in both Venezuela and London. When she was a little girl, she tragically witnessed her father’s sudden death when he was mowing the lawn of their Hampstead house.
A month following his passing, the foreign service ejected Kathleen and her family from the United Kingdom. In Springfield, Missouri, where everyone was still grieving for their father and their previous home, Turner relocated her family.
Finally, Tuner felt at peace after moving to New York to pursue an adult acting career. Her major break came when she was hired as the femme fatale in the 1981 film “Body Heat,” despite her success on stage.
Turner was offered the opportunity to co-star with Michael Douglas in the well-known “Romancing the Stone” three years after sharing the screen with William Hurt. During filming, Douglas was going through a difficult divorce from his wife Diandra, and he started to feel a connection with Turner.
We were intensely flirting and exchanging intense, yearning glances as we were falling in love. Kathleen remarked, “Then Diandra came down and reminded me he was still married.”
In the end, she wed Jay Weiss, the movie’s real estate developer, in 1984. Soon after, the couple welcomed their only daughter together. October 14, 1987, was Rachel Ann Weiss’s birthday.
Regretfully, when the couple started parenting their daughter, their relationship started to fall apart.
“I would demand extended weekends or additional passes from the film studios so that my spouse and daughter could visit me. However, I felt bad since there was a feeling in the marriage that all the work was on his end. It terminated for a few reasons, including that. I began to experience extreme oppression. Kathleen said, “I thought, ‘Hang on a minute, you’ve done very well out of being married to me also.’”
When Turner played Martha in the 2005 Broadway production of “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?” their marital problems came to a head. Turner became incredibly busy performing in eight shows a week, and it seemed Weiss didn’t want to spend any time with her at home.
During that time, Turner was nominated for a Tony Award for her portrayal of Martha, and the two got along well.
The actress was nominated for an Oscar in 1987 for her role in “Peggy Sue Got Married.” She went on to produce several films in the 1980s, including three blockbusters starring Michael Douglas.
But in the 1990s, Kathleen experienced a medical setback when her neck locked, making it impossible for her to turn her head. Additionally, the swelling in her hands prevented her from using them.
Kathleen stated, “It was crippling.” When something is gone, even for a little while, you stop taking it for granted. What I took for granted was my athleticism, my capacity for forceful movement, and my freedom to move however I pleased. I had a genuine identity crisis when I lost that: “Who am I if I can’t do this?”
She was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis, which is characterized by swelling of the lining of our joints, and this was the tragic reason for her circumstances. Managing chronic pain caused by this illness can be difficult.
Kathleen remarked, “When it was first diagnosed, I was terrified because they said I’d be in a wheelchair.” “I reasoned that I couldn’t act if I couldn’t move. Not everything I want to do is act. I was destined for this. It’s present throughout my entire life. The most terrifying aspect was the thought of not being able to accomplish it, together with the ongoing discomfort.
Kathleen took drugs and alcohol to ease her pain. Her habit of drinking vodka led her to faint during dress rehearsals for plays such as the 2002 stage version of “The Graduate,” even if they made her job simpler.
The actress really checked herself into rehab after the show concluded, and it was found that she was not an alcoholic. Instead, she was told to just remember to take more notes on when she took her medications and any unfavorable side effects.
The actress now does pilates and yoga to help her stay flexible and manage her discomfort.
The famous person began to focus more intently on her career in theater while also improving her pain management. As she grew older, she largely returned to her roots, even taking the lead in a stage production of “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof” in her forties, even though she still worked sometimes in film and television.
“It was a little foresight on my part of which I am justly proud, because I knew that the better roles as I got older would be in theatre, which is absolutely true,” Kathleen remarked.
By focusing on the theater, the actress has had more time to pursue her passions, which include working for Planned Parenthood of America and volunteering for Amnesty International.
For most of her life, Turner has been an ardent feminist who has devoted her life to helping other women. Gloria Feldt’s 2008 biography of the actress, Send Yourself Roses, captures her thoughts perfectly.
As women, we are the first generation to achieve financial independence. Women are returning to the workforce, stated Kathleen. They’re redefining who they are. I believed I could contribute to that, even more. It therefore contains a great deal of philosophy as well as my personal beliefs.
What are your thoughts on Kathleen Turner’s difficult yet fruitful journey? Tell us in the comments below!
I Raised My Sister’s Son Like My Own for 15 Years — Then He Chose Her Over Me Because She Bought Him a Car
When Kayla abandoned her baby, I gave up everything to raise him as my own. Fifteen years of scraped knees, birthdays, and bedtime stories later, she waltzed back into his life with a car and stole him away. Five years later, a knock at my door turned everything upside-down.
I hadn’t seen my little sister, Kayla, for months, but now she was on my doorstep with a bundle in her arms — a baby boy, maybe six months old, half-asleep and fussing.
A person holding a baby | Source: Pexels
Her usually perfect eyeliner was smudged down her cheeks, and that designer perfume she always wore had faded to something stale and sad.
“Please look after him, Mae, just for a couple of weeks while I figure things out,” she mumbled, thrusting a diaper bag into my free hand.
“What?” My fingers clenched reflexively around the bag strap. “Kayla, what happened? When did you—”
A shocked and confused woman | Source: Unsplash
“It’s complicated.” She adjusted the baby as though her arms might break beneath his weight. “But I’ve got some opportunities lined up. Good ones. I just need breathing room, time to settle in. Two weeks, tops, Mae. Please.”
That was Kayla-speak for “I’m in trouble again.” Her eyes, so much like mine but always wilder, darted to her car.
A woman glancing anxiously to one side | Source: Unsplash
“Two weeks,” I repeated firmly.
“You’re a lifesaver, sis.” She flashed me a relieved smile as she handed the baby over. “I’ll call tomorrow.”
But weeks blurred into months, and Kayla vanished like smoke.
A woman resting her head in her hand | Source: Unsplash
The only communication was a text every few weeks: “Need more time” or “Can’t talk now.”
Then nothing at all.
Until three months after she left, when an envelope arrived in the mail. Inside, was the baby’s birth certificate, and a nasty surprise.
An envelope on a table | Source: Unsplash
The certificate was blank where a name should be. So, he was official, but nameless. It listed Kayla as the mother and no father at all.
I thought of my grandfather, Liam, the only stable male figure in Kayla’s and my chaotic childhood. He had been kind, steady, patient.
Then I looked at the little boy playing on the floor with his toys.
A baby playing with toys | Source: Unsplash
“Liam it is,” I decided.
That night became the first of many landmarks: first steps across my living room, first words, first day of kindergarten.
I became his everything — rocking him through fevers, staying sleepless through teething nights, and laughing as we built towers and chunky wooden puzzles, and stuck our tongues out at each other.
A woman playing with a toddler | Source: Pexels
When Liam was seven, his teacher called about getting him braces.
The cost made my stomach drop, but I picked up a graveyard shift cleaning offices downtown, scrubbing toilets with hands already blistered from my day job at the warehouse.
When Liam turned ten, the school required laptops for their new curriculum.
A classroom | Source: Unsplash
The pawnshop’s neon sign buzzed overhead as I traded my beloved guitar (the only thing I still had from my brief stint in a college band, my only real indulgence) for a laptop that would get him through.
“Where’d your guitar go?” he asked a week later, noticing the empty corner of the living room.
“Just loaned it to a friend,” I lied, hating how easily it came.
A woman sitting on a sofa | Source: Unsplash
Kayla remained nothing but a ghost. Maybe a birthday text every other year, brittle and hollow: “Tell him happy birthday from Mom.” As if the word “Mom” belonged to her by right, not by effort.
But everything changed on Liam’s 16th birthday.
I was setting up the small celebration I’d planned — just a few friends, pizza, and a homemade cake — when an engine purred outside.
A birthday cake on a table | Source: Unsplash
I peeked through the blinds to see a gleaming SUV that probably cost more than a year of my salary.
Kayla stepped out, looking like a stranger. Flawless makeup, expensive clothes, her hair highlighted to perfection.
Liam came downstairs, freezing when he saw her through the open door.
A stunned teen boy | Source: Unsplash
“Hey, baby,” she said. “Sweet 16, huh? I brought presents.”
He looked at me, confusion rippling across his face. I’d shown him pictures of Kayla, and told him the truth in age-appropriate ways over the years: his mother loved him but couldn’t take care of him. She had problems. Maybe someday she’d be ready.
Apparently, someday had arrived in a $60,000 SUV.
An SUV parked outside a building | Source: Pexels
She visited every day that week, whisking him away to amusement parks, buying him flashy clothes, and spinning tales of “complicated times” and “endless love” that had kept them apart.
Then she showed up with the most flamboyant gift yet.
One scorching afternoon in July, a silver convertible pulled up to our faded duplex. It was topped with a garish red bow.
A silver convertible parked on a street | Source: Pexels
I stepped onto the porch as Kayla climbed out of the convertible. Liam gasped at my side.
“What do you think, baby?” Kayla grinned as she strutted toward us, keys dangling from manicured fingers. “It’s all yours.”
Liam whooped for joy. He leaped down the porch steps and ran to hug Kayla.
Two people hugging | Source: Pexels
“You don’t need to struggle here anymore,” she declared, locking her gaze with mine over his shoulder. “Come live with me, baby. It’s time we were a family again.”
Liam turned to me, confusion, guilt, and yearning battling in his eyes. I saw the moment the yearning won.
And just like that, the boy I’d named and raised like my own was gone.
A woman with tears running down her face | Source: Unsplash
No hug. No goodbye. Just excitement overtaking guilt as he slid into the driver’s seat of a car worth more than everything I owned.
Two days later, I got the text: “Thanks. I’ll give her a chance.”
Alone in our silent house, I gathered up tiny drawings labeled “Auntie/Mom,” crayon Mother’s Day cards, and packed them in boxes.
Items packed in a cardboard box | Source: Pexels
I grieved like a mother without a grave to visit.
There were no casseroles, no sympathy cards, no formal ceremony to mark my loss. Just empty spaces where a boy had grown up and a silence where his laughter had been.
At work, people asked about Liam constantly.
A woman working in a warehouse office | Source: Pexels
I developed a script: “He’s living with his mom now. Yes, his actual mom. No, it’s great, a wonderful opportunity for him.”
Eventually, they stopped asking.
Eventually, Liam existed only in my memories and the part of my heart he’d taken with him.
A woman staring out a window | Source: Unsplash
Five years is both an eternity and nothing at all.
I’d downsized to a one-bedroom apartment across town, switched to a better-paying office job, and even dated occasionally.
Life had a new rhythm; quieter, steadier, lonelier.
Then came another knock.
An apartment door | Source: Unsplash
When I opened the door, I nearly didn’t recognize him.
“Liam,” I breathed.
He stood awkwardly, hands jammed into pockets, a duffel bag at his feet.
A duffel bag at someone’s feet | Source: Unsplash
“Hey, Aunt Mae.” His voice cracked. “She’s… she’s kicking me out. Said I need to figure out my own life now.”
I said nothing, just stared at this stranger wearing Liam’s face.
“College didn’t work out,” he continued, words tumbling out now.
A young man hanging his head | Source: Unsplash
“I wasn’t focused enough, she said. Wasting her money. And when her boyfriend moved in last month, things got worse, and—” He stopped, swallowed. “I didn’t know where else to go.”
He wasn’t here to apologize… he just had nowhere else to go.
The hurt and betrayal that I’d thought I was over returned full force.
An angry woman staring at someone | Source: Unsplash
But he was my little boy, and he had nowhere else to go.
“You can take the couch,” I said, stepping aside. “I don’t have a spare room anymore.”
Relief flooded his face. “Thanks. I won’t be any trouble.”
“I have rules,” I told him. “This isn’t like before.”
He nodded quickly. “Of course. Whatever you say.”
An earnest young man | Source: Unsplash
Liam did his own laundry and contributed to the rent from his part-time job at a garage.
Slowly, cautiously, we rebuilt something from the ashes.
Our conversations grew less guarded. He told me about the disasters of living with Kayla — the revolving door of boyfriends, the drinking, the expectations he could never quite meet.
A man glancing to one side | Source: Pexels
“The car was repossessed after the first year,” he admitted one night over takeout. “Turns out she hadn’t actually bought it. Just leased it to impress me.”
I nodded, unsurprised.
He looked up. “I should have called. After I left. But everything was so great at first. I was finally getting to spend time with my mother, and then, when things turned bad… it felt like it was too late, like I could never make up for what I did to you.”
A man looking at someone | Source: Unsplash
“It hurt when you left like that,” I admitted, “but you were a kid, as charmed by Kayla as everyone else she ever set her sights on winning over. I get it, but you still should’ve called.”
He smiled then, a small, sad smile that carried the weight of our shared history. “Thanks for giving me a second chance, even if I’ve done nothing to deserve it.”
I looked at him, this boy-turned-man who’d broken my heart.
A woman staring at someone | Source: Unsplash
“That’s what family does,” I told him, and for the first time in years, the word didn’t taste bitter on my tongue.
Liam broke. His shoulders shook as he buried his face in his hands. I didn’t think twice; just moved over and put my arms around him.
“I’m so sorry,” he said between sobs.
A young man crying | Source: Unsplash
Outside, rain tapped gently against the windows, wrapping our small apartment in a cocoon of sound.
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