Second Guessing Your Own Dreams & Goals: A Love Story?

It has officially been 32 days since I visited Death School. I’ve had a couple of “are you sure though?” moments since the visit which I’ve shrugged off because, well, of course I’m sure! I’ve wanted this for a really long time! Last night though, something happened that was the biggest “Hey…but…are you sure you’re sure?” moment I’ve had thus far. I can’t decide if I should give it a second thought or if I should just tuck it in the Box of Doubts that my brain keeps on this subject, along with several other random things. My brain’s a bit of a hoarder.

Last night I had the pleasure of attending a rad Fundraiser where a piece I directed was performed by some of my talented and amazing friends. I forgot how anxious I get in social settings and spent most of the pre-show time wandering around outside or standing completely wide-eyed and motionless inside. I suck at mingling, 85% of the time…especially if I don’t actually know anyone or everyone I know is busy doing something else. Fun fact: at parties and weddings, I tend to make friends with bartenders real fast…not because of drinking (ok…partially because of drinking), but for some reason it’s just easier for me to talk to them than other guests. I always feel out of place, and spent most of last night thinking “Good choice to get out of theatre, because you DO NOT belong here.”

I’ll be the first one to admit that I feel like a complete poseur when it comes to anything theatre related. I don’t have a theatre background. I sort of fell into theatre by accident. I always wanted to be an actor and was in a few school plays and stuff here and there, but writing was my passion. Fiction. Film. And then college happened and I was hit with a decade-long case of writer’s block. I gave up and fuck theatre anyhow because the drama kids I went to school with were THE WORST. Right when I gave up, I learned about improv and realized I didn’t need to write so what’s the point, let’s just make shit up! I wanted so badly to be a comedian even though, growing up, I was constantly told I wasn’t funny. But, as it happens, there were people out there who thought I was funny! And lo, a comedian I became.

With live theatre, I don’t know that I’ve ever seen a live show where I didn’t cry or at least tear up. There is something about live theatre that moves me far more than anything I’ve seen captured on film. I am so envious of all of the people who come together to transport the audience to another place, time, world, and weave such amazing stories. I am not at all a reluctant audience member. I’ve sat through show after show of the same run just to pick up things I’ve missed, or to take friends to shows I truly loved. I used to work as an audio describer, describing sets, props, and actions of live theatre to patrons who were vision-impaired. I loved it so much. I’d try to see any shows my friends were in, and it was actually at one of these where I got my big break.

I was fortunate to be cast in two non-improv shows (unless I’m forgetting something) while living in North Carolina: in one I played a plethora of characters from works of fiction, as well as a few folks from history. In the other, I played my first dramatic role of a woman who wanted so very much to be a mother, but couldn’t conceive. I probably asked my director like a million times why she chose me for that part. Me, a comedian. Me, a woman who didn’t want kids. Me, a not-really-an-actor. She would either smile at me and tell me she knew I could do it, or she would get this look on her face that read “stop being a nerd and go be an actor.” She believed in me. And, not to be like “Hey I’m so great you guys!”, but she was right to, because each night, I would be approached after the show by women who went through similar situations as my character, or men who confided in me that they were moved to tears. It was amazing to know that I could do that, but I still felt like a fraud.

I acted a bit more when I moved to Chicago, and then was again graced with good fortune by pitching a show which I got to direct as well. I loved that show so much. It was written by two of my closest friends. My only stipulation was that a dream sequence and a sword fight were to be included in the script. It ended up being a knife fight, but it was even better than I could have imagined.

I would watch that show every weekend, standing in the back of the theatre with my hands clasped and beaming like an idiot. I found something new that would make me laugh each night. I was completely smitten with my cast, the crew, the script, our soundtrack, the world. It all felt so magical.

I went on to produce a few shows after that, helped co-write a show, acted here and there, did some art direction, and while I’ve enjoyed all of it, nothing’s quite felt the same as those two major moments…

Until last night.

I say this with love, but our rehearsals weren’t anything earth-shatteringly special. I cast my theatre company in my piece because I love them all dearly and they’re so incredibly talented that I could have given them the script when I got it in January and told them “The show’s on Feb. 10th, see you then” with the utmost confidence. But that’s not how directing works.

After standing in the lobby of the funeral home-turned-theatre last night, I finally decided to take a seat at 7:51pm. I had some water and some snacks. I tried to tune out my brain’s yelling of “You shouldn’t be here! You’re not good at this! Why did you agree to do this?! Go home!” I perused my phone. My heart rate chilled a bit as I distracted myself with social media (seriously, I was more anxious that I’ve been in months and was considering just leaving at one point before I sat down). The lights flashed, which meant the show was going to be starting soon.

There were a few acts before ours, which I enjoyed. I wanted them all to keep going because the characters were so interesting and fun. And then ‘Modern Love’ by David Bowie started, the intro song I’d picked for the piece, and it was go-time.

It was awesome.

From the time the music started til the very end, the audience’s reactions were incredibly positive and joyful. The women in front of me were my own barometer of how the night was going. They had the most delightful things to say about everything, from Modern Love to our home-made Walking Dead sound effects, they were absolute peaches. And they had no idea who I was, which made it all the better. I suck at taking compliments (Brain: these people are just being nice because they have to, to your face!), but I really dig anonymous ones (Brain: Okay, maybe you do actually deserve them).

I’m going to leave that world behind me, and I don’t feel ok with that right now. I’ve been slowly withdrawing from everything I worked so hard for during my time here in Chicago. I don’t even perform comedy anymore…hell, I don’t perform anything anymore! It is just hitting me now that I may not have the opportunity to do stuff like this in a year or so. As a funeral director, you’re pretty much always on call. If I think making schedules for rehearsals now is one of the most grueling tasks, attempting to schedule anything when I’m a funeral director will be nearly impossible, unless it’s a short term project.

Thinking about not doing anything theatre-related is actually causing me a ridiculous amount of anxiety as I type this.

I don’t want to miss out on any opportunities to better myself and live my dreams, and maybe it’ll actually be a lot easier than I think to be involved in theatre and a funeral director. I feel like I haven’t used my time in Chicago at all how I should have at all.

I thought that writing this all out might put things into a better perspective for me, but I’m even more conflicted now. Obviously I’ve got time to ponder the whole thing but man…I wasn’t expecting this at all.