The Hangover
A few months ago, I was walking with another performer to Brass Tap, a bar/restaurant in Baltimore, after the shows. As a quick aside, I do frequently go to bars or other places that serve alcohol. If the existence of bars could, in and of themselves, make me drink, I would be screwed. The topic of the COVID lockdowns came up, and her experience with them. She said something to the effect of "I realized I wasn't laughing as much as I used to."
As I write this, I have started working again after nearly a year away. While I was looking for a job, I took improv classes. Sometimes multiple times a day. Usually at least one a day. A little over a month ago, I was adding classes I hoped I wouldn't take, because that would mean I was still out of work. A few days ago, I removed the last of those from my calendar. I've cut back to two teams, an indie team and my conservatory team. With the exception of a few weekend workshops, my Improv obligations are quickly running out. It sucks. I am tired.
This was always the plan—eventually work again, and, in evaluating the last ten months, it's important to note for myself that I was successful. When my job ended, I decided to go all in on improv and to get as good as I could because it would give me structure and connection. I joked that "when," not if, I got through this period of time sober, that I wanted credit, but I actually did get through that time sober. I'm making money for my family again. I should be grateful, and also grateful for the privilege of having "gone all in" on improv in the first place. I am. But this last week has been hard because I'm not laughing as much as I used to.
Part of learning to be a performer who performs every week is preparing for a show every week, so this is something I have to learn to navigate: Navigating the emotional highs and lows of the biz. I'm not sure it's something I was ready for. The good news is that this is what mentors and coaches are for. Part of this newsletter is me trying to figure out a map to share with others.