Theatre is Hard

 

    I'm writing this at 10 am the morning of the closing production. I don't mind naming them, because I have nothing negative to say, and my job is over so they can't fire me. But I am not naming them out of habit or PTSD.

   The last five years have been a very specific kind of hell. I am not alone, and I am not complaining; simply stating. Becuase if you're reading this, you live in the same country that I do and have your own hellscape stories. And while I will give lip service to appreciating the shift in lip service to taking care of one's mental health, the words are as empty as any other spoken to us in recent years. One cannot take care of one's mental health without expensive insurance, or expensive out of pocket appointments and meds. The mere fact that an advertising entity suggests mental health support is available to me, a regular person, when they know it is a lie is causing a mental health issue. I expect insurance companies and the government to lie to me. But now they're using "mental health" to peddle their pharmaceutical fallacies. 

   I do have insurance. I have Kaiser. 'nuff said, eh?

   I have used theatre as therapy my entire life. I tend to rework Tom Hanks' words in A League of Their Own.  "Yes, theatre is hard. It's the hard that makes it great. If it was easy, everyone would do it."  She was always there for me. She got me through high school, college, my twenties, parenting and teaching.

    Well, she was getting me through teaching, but that's another blog.

    After we reopened in 2021, I took every job I could directing and teaching. I stacked them--I would leave rehearsal early at Hinkley to make it to rehearsal at Mines. I worked like that for a solid 13 months.

    And around month four I realized...I didn't feel any better. Worse, my directing was falling away from me, I could feel it running down my arm like shower water, and puddling at my feet where it would evaporate. Gone. Moments, connections, techniques--even  mechanics were leaving me. One college show I actually wrote in my notes "I am sucking at this".

    There is the self preservation part of me that wants to blame a post Covid world. People have foggy brains, mental health struggles and students are afraid to be seen and separated from their phones. Combined, these elements make directing not just "hard" but frequently impossible. I used to drag shows across the finish line on my own; now I draw boundaries. I am no longer the one stitching and building and teaching and designing. It it fails, it's not on me. I hate it, and I hate that kids will allow it to fail. So that's a hit to one's mental health.

   Which is why I took the gig to direct Gilbert and Sullivan with a community theatre this summer. High school theatre has become impossible--there's more to that story but everyone's tired of hearing me bitch about admin--so maybe community theatre  would be better.

    I did not have to stitch or build. I did do a basic design, and had to teach a bit. From that perspective, it was better. The actors were all adults. They all want to be there. On the surface, this experience should have renewed my faith.

   It did not.

   This group of people are all heart, positive and dedicated. Yet I was a grumpy dick. I wanted to work at the level I had been used to ten years ago, only to be faced with the fact that that level doesn't exist in community theatre. Instead of doing what I used to--finding a way around it, making connections and building community--I wielded theatre like a scepter and whacked people with it. I hope you are appalled reading this; I am appalled writing it. This approach made my mental health even worse, and now I have guilt mixed in. I was punishing actors with theatre instead of building them up. And I knew it, and came home angry after each rehearsal. Great. I'm fine, it's fine, stop looking at me I'm fine.

    This is not who I am.

    The mental health hits, three known bouts of Covid and fights with admin have left my brain disconnected as well. I have to take notes and send rehearsal reports via email, I can't give them live, my brain won't form the words. I've tried to return to being the funny/sardonic director in the booth, and the same turrets- esque verbal salad is happening. Maybe it's early onset dementia. Maybe it's stress. Maybe it's Maybelline. Whatever it is, I can't verbally communicate the way I used to, and I'm forgetting what I did or said five days ago. In June I pledged to walk every day, I  missed one day and completely forgot about it. I told this cast I'm glitchy due to the motorcycle accident almost ten years ago---which is somewhat accurate, that's when it started---but I don't believe it. The bike wreck rung my bell and disconnected irreparable synapses, but that is not the only issue. I've been told I suck by administrators for so long now that I not only believe it, but I'm living it. I suck at this.

    And so...in conclusion, all in all, to sum up, I'm done. 

    Theatre is hard.

    Too hard for me.

    Immma buy a llama and live in Delta and talk to no one.

    Scene.