I turned 43 years old yesterday, and I had some time to think about what I want out of this next turn around the sun.
I want to save the world.
Wait. The world of theatre.
Or save the United States from itself.
Maybe just Wisconsin.
Maybe just Milwaukee theatre.
Myself. I want to save myself.
(I should probably do that first.)
I had to go back and read what I wrote in my birthday post last year. It’s been a bit of year (thanks, pandemic, social justice, war, famine, poverty, earthquakes, death, death, death….)
What struck me was how little I wrote about the pandemic. The thing that’s been affecting us all. And by August 25, 2020, we had already been in it for 6 months. I guess there was still some hope there that we were going to “get over it” shortly thereafter. When in all actuality, things just got worse, and worse. And worse.
I did write in there how I wanted to focus on my health. And stop putting up with people’s bullshit. And make theatre. But I’m not sure how successful I’ve been with those things over the past year.
I’ve been feeling really good and stuck since about December of last year. I think the reality of the pandemic not ending any time soon really stuck itself in right about then. Winter in this pandemic was a perfectly awful shitshow. I have real anxiety issues when it comes to feeling trapped (like winter in a pandemic, or Chicago traffic). But I think some of it might have also been the meds I was trying at that time. Citalopram. The FOURTH drug I’ve tried in this long, super long, horribly long journey of chilling the fuck out. Though it wasn’t until I realized I was sleeping about 11 hours a day, had a large rash on my leg, and was taking a second med for insomnia, that I thought maybe these drugs just aren’t for me.
TO THAT POINT: I’ve come to the conclusion over the past two years that the whole of the United States medical community really fucking sucks and that between Aurora and myself I’d like to fire them all. (And by all, I really mostly just mean the people WE’VE been working with.)
I’ve been doing my best to have space for a lot of people. EVERYONE is going through this pandemic. (Well, maybe some people are living in a fantasyland, but I sure am not.) Everyone, including the medical community who are really, really overwhelmed with not only people suffering from COVID, but those suffering from the effects of isolation. Do you know how long it currently takes to get an appointment with a mental health professional as a new patient? I do.
I am not a fucking zen buddha master. I am a human. I’ve found myself after 18 months of a pandemic with a special needs teenager at my side really hitting limits. Fast. (If this is your first time reading this blog, read more about Aurora here). I’m losing patience with people I’m trying to have empathy and space for, fast. I’ve hit limits more times than I can count, and truly, more and more frequently the longer this pandemic goes on.
I think it’s called burnout, yes?
I’m not even really sure I can, or want to, cover the ground of life with a special needs person in a pandemic. But it’s been exhausting. I look at my face and I feel like I’ve aged more since my 42nd birthday than I had in the previous ten birthdays. Woman has been STRUG. GLE. ING. Aurora, I mean.
Well, me too. Let’s be real here. When the shit hit the fan and everything closed down, Aurora did not simply pivot to online learning in what was, ostensibly, her “senior year.” She lost her fucking mind. A complete meltdown. And there was no relief. There were no day programs to take her to when we (her stepdad, mental health professionals, teachers, and I) got her back on her feet. I was alone with her for the better part of 90% of the day for the better part of five months last year.
I say this not to elicit pity. I say this because I’m NOT THE ONLY ONE. While the world was collapsing from a pandemic and all (some?) of us were confronted with the death of Georg Floyd and social justice for the BIPOC community, there was about 3% of the population (estimated number of disabled persons) also trying not to lose their minds from the lack of help and services.
Fast-forward to today and now I am just tired. As fuck. I’m trying, so hard, to get my head back in the game, but goddammit it just feels impossible. Trying to plan a theatre season. Impossible. Trying to stop being so anxious. Impossible. Trying to get my kid to stop crying at the dinner table. Impossible.
I have asked for help. I’ve gone to my doctor. Done and continue to do head therapy. Meditation in the morning. I’ve reached out to the Adult Disability Resource Center for help with Aurora. Family. Friends. I feel like all I do is ask and ask and ask and ask and ask and ask.
And yet, relief, REAL relief, is so hard to find.
I recognize, and understand, we are all collectively still experiencing trauma. And I’m trying to remain strong. Resilient. Have empathy. Keep on keeping on with that one foot in front of the other. And I’ll be okay. I think. In some ways, with a disabled person by my side all the time, I have to be. You just have to be okay. That doesn’t mean I am a super hero. I’m getting better at being present and self-aware. Acknowledging when I need time away from people. I personally like to run in my driveway now. Until the snow comes….
And I do still have hope. I don’t know why. I really, really, really, don’t know why after all that’s happened in the last year and beyond why I still have hope. Practicing gratitude has helped. When you wake up in the morning and see all you HAVE instead of focusing on what you don't, it can really help. Help. Not cure. Help. And when you’re prone to depression you need to take all you can get.
So in my next turn around the sun, I’m going to keep working on myself. I am of no help to anyone else, not my family, not my theatre community, not as a social justice ally, if I can’t be good with myself.
And if there is anything, ANYTHING, I can ask of you, it’s to be good to yourself. After that, if you can be good to those around you, I’d ask if you could donate to The Constructivists. For my birthday, you know. This tiny company I started to help change the world in my own way. The only way I know how. The Dark Way.
I’m trying to be the change. With that company, I want to prove that you can be small and mighty. Small, dark and mighty. Pay artists a living wage. Be inclusive. Be accessible. Be open. Be real. Be real dark. And funny. Like me.
And if you STILL have space. Please learn more about the Milwaukee Arts community. It will help you to understand not only the struggles I go through as an artist, but all artists in Milwaukee and Wisconsin. Wisconsin is FORTY-NINETH in State Arts Funding. And the only reason we’re not dead last is because Arizona took its state arts funding to ZERO. Things will never change for artists in Wisconsin until we get the people holding the purse strings to realize ART is WORK. And should be paid for and funded as such.
On that note, another goal I have this year is to be a better arts educator in this blog. At this moment in time however, I’ll just say I’m a big fan of an organization called Imagine MKE and they have a TON of resources on WHY the arts are important, and how YOU can be and impact. If you live in and around Milwaukee, you could even start with, say, THIS SURVEY. And IF you have space, please share that with your Milwaukee people. I will love you forever. I promise.
And last but not least here, the thing I did (beyond holding myself and my family together) in my 42nd year that I’m most proud of is helping to bring the Milwaukee Theatre Standards to life through the Milwaukee Theatre Alliance. That itself is a whole other post I should have written months ago, but you know. Headspace. Thanks, pandemic, social justice, war, famine, poverty, earthquakes, death, death, death….
The Standards are an attempt to better the world of theatre starting with ourselves. There is much room for the document to grow and change, but it’s a real effort to revolutionize and standardize expectations within the Milwaukee Theatre Community, in hopes to provide a safer and equitable environment for all. The American Theatre has claimed to be a whole lot of things it’s not for a really, really long time. And it’s time to stop that and change that.
It’s time to change a lot of things in the Year of FOUR THREE. Be good to myself. Get back to making great theatre. Be a conscious and purposeful ally.
