My husband has been taking classes at a local comedy club for the last year and a half. He’s taken every improv class they have and their humorous storytelling class. The only thing he hasn’t done is Stand Up. He has even gone on to be a part of a troop and performs for paying audiences (he does not get paid). I am there often enough that the owners and regulars know me by name. This is 100% because they know my husband, not because I have, in any way, attempted to get to know any of them.
Many of them often ask me when I’m going to take a class. After all, I was a Theatre major and taught improv and storytelling for years. I’m a trained librarian and I am a writer. You’d think it would be a no brainer that I’d fit in with these people. You’d be wrong.
The very idea of taking a class has been terrifying to me. But I finally gave in and signed up for Storytelling after the Quest to Self sessions made me realize that I have been attempting to keep myself small and unnoticed in an attempt to avoid rejection. So I signed up and immediately tried to ignore that the first class was approaching.
Thursday was that first class. And to say I was terrified would be putting it mildly. I don’t think I’ve had this level of anxiety in quite some time. But then, I haven’t exactly put myself in such a vulnerable position in a long time either. I don’t really go anywhere that I haven’t been going for years. If it’s a new place, it’s either with people I know or without a need for much interaction.
I was mostly successful in not thinking about the class after signing up, but the afternoon of the first class I started having tell-tale anxiety knots in my stomach. Toes tapping, teeth grinding, fidgity anxiety. I got anxious about what time to leave, even though I’ve driven to the comedy club many, many times.
My husband suggested going ahead and leaving so I could get a drink in the bar downstairs before going to the classroom on the third floor. I arrived in the bar with about 20 or so minutes until the class was scheduled to start. There were a ton of people I did not know standing near the register, which left me standing there feeling awkward and not able to place an order. The owner (who I do know and have talked to before) greeted me and asked if I was excited about the class. I’m not really sure what I said, but I think it was something along the lines of “I’m trying to be.” Later he talked to my husband and indicated that he was surprised I was nervous, given my background.
And maybe that’s part of the problem. It’s been a long time since I’ve performed for an audience and everyone seems to think that I should be great. But what if I’m not? What if I stink and everyone is disappointed in me? More than that, what if my husband is disappointed and embarrassed to be connected to me?
Yes, yes. I’m fully aware that cognitive distortions are rearing their ugly heads at me. I’m aware that I’m mind reading, fortune telling, discounting the positive, catastrophizing, and probably every other distortion possible with a few extras just for me. Because I always have to go the extra mile when it comes to anxiety.
I felt so awkward about just standing there that I went upstairs. This was the first time I’d ever gone to the third floor. At the top of the stairs there was a door, which was locked. I assumed this was the only door and I was just too early. After waiting a few minutes and seeing no one come I texted my husband that the door was locked and he recommended checking the “other door.” I didn’t realize there was another door. But just as he told me where to find it, the instructor showed up. I followed him, feeling awkward about not realizing there was another door.
I was the first student to arrive, of course. There was another student that arrived soon after and I attempted to initiate conversation, but it was a struggle and I couldn’t understand everything he said because of his accent and my racing brain. Other people trickled in and we all sat facing each other and not really knowing what to do while the instructor set up his projector and computer.
Just like any first day of class, we were asked to introduce ourselves. And we were told to tell one recent funny or embarrassing thing that had happened to us. I blanked. I couldn’t think of anything and as a result I barely heard anyone else’s. When it got to me I said “I live my life embarrassed, so I can’t think of anything in particular.” The instructor looked taken aback that I left it at that. Which, of course, made me feel awful. Then he said “You’ve all just proven that you can tell a story.” And all I could think was “Except me.” I spent a lot of the class feeling like I was the exception to everything he said. Again, I know I wasn’t grounded in reality, but it’s how I was feeling at the time.
Most of the rest of the class was the instructor teaching us about story structure and giving examples. He had us brainstorm at least 10 possible humorous stories that we could tell.
Here’s my list:
1. Hysterectomy (divorce uterus)
2. surrogate journey (don’t piss of the doctor)
3. Wizard of Oz (stage manager, thinking on my feet)
4. Tough Mudder (I can do hard things)
5. Meeting husband
6. Pranking Dr. Pearse
7. Pacific Coast Vacation
8. Social anxiety
9. Broke myself (exercise is dangerous)
10. Foot broke (ask/accept help)
11. Mom breaking ankles
He had us all share our top three ideas. I shared “When I divorced my uterus, how my son was born with a broken arm, and when I ran a Tough Mudder for my 40th birthday.” My phrasing for the hysterectomy got a reaction, which was what I was going for. I’m fairly certain it’s the one I’ll go with. Other people elaborated on their top three ideas, but I gave a bare minimum. And it felt like my voice shook the whole time.
Our homework was to outline two of our ideas using the framework, but in a different order than how we will tell them. Instead of Setting, Challenge, Discovery, Solution, Outcome we were to plan Discovery, Solution, Outcome, Challenge, Setting. He said that this was to prevent us from being too setting heavy and make sure everything is leading to the climax (Discovery).
I have outlined my thoughts for the Hysterectomy and for breaking myself, but I really feel like the hysterectomy is the one that fits the framework best. Maybe because I’m having a hard time deciding what the discovery would be for breaking myself. Perhaps asking for help? I’m not sure.
This week we will be sharing our outlines and discussing which stories we should flesh out. We have some time to work on getting our stories written, but need at least three of our six weeks for working on perfecting both the story and the telling. I really hope that the anxiety can dissipate at least some. I am going to need to work on grounding myself before going to class and finding ways to stay in the moment instead of getting caught up in my brain’s anxious distortions.
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