The tough thing about healing is that it’s not linear. One day you can feel like you could take on the world, and the next day a poorly timed comment can send you back under the covers.
But here’s the thing: I know it doesn’t last. Yes, I’m feeling discouraged. Yes, I have days that are hard to put one foot in front of the other. But I do it. I’m showing up, even when I don’t want to. I’m moving forward, even when it feels like there’s no point. And that is a very important distinction.
Five weeks ago, I signed up to take the level one improv class at The Comedy Arena. Yes, the same Comedy Arena that hosted my book launch. The first class I was filled with anxious energy and ready to take on my fear with gusto. I met a few people that I thought could become friends and I was looking forward to the next week.
The second week I was less nervous, but still excited to see what we would learn. I did the homework of looking for the “yes, and” easily, seeing as that weekend was my book launch. I was keen to continue to try new things and see where it would lead. One of the classmates I’d felt a connection to was not there and I really hoped she wasn’t letting fear keep her from the class. A new person joined us. Someone with lots of enthusiasm and charisma. I’ll be honest, previously I had felt like the most seasoned improv performer in the group. That didn’t last.
Week three, our missing person was back and someone else was absent. We took things a step further, developing our ability to “follow our feet” and trust our gut. I’m not sure, but I think it was this class that the excitement for it started to fade. I felt frustrated with other performers when they failed to take instruction to heart, and even more frustrated when I was told my efforts were not enough.
Week four, I was already feeling down thanks to comments from my kid and a lack of sales at my first author showcase. I really had no desire to attend, but I’d paid for the class and if nothing else, I didn’t want to let anyone else down. Once again, we were missing a player. The same one as week two. I reached out to her during a break, hoping she hadn’t quit. As we played, I continued to feel inadequate and frustrated. For the first time, I left without waiting around to talk to anyone. I just wasn’t feeling like a part of a team.
Last night was our fifth class. I went. I had no desire to go. I wasn’t looking forward to seeing anyone or playing any of the games. I wasn’t scared, I just didn’t care. Two people were missing this time, but not the one I’d contacted. She showed up. At the end of class I walked out without talking to anyone again. But one of my classmates followed behind me and asked a question about my kids. We spoke briefly before going our separate ways. Then I ran into the person that had missed two classes. She thanked me for reaching out. Apparently one of the other members had as well. I assured her that she was doing much better than she thought she was and expressed my own lack of enjoyment. She suggested that the instructor was the reason.
When I thought about it, I could definitely see her point. It feels like every instruction she gives is in response to something that someone did wrong. She keeps saying “you’re just level one and I know it’s a lot, but it just takes practice.” I don’t remember her giving any of us a direct complement. At the end of every class, she has us circle up and tell the person to our right something encouraging. She and the TA stand outside the circle. They never tell us what we did well. And that’s super discouraging.
Instead of feeling more confident for facing my anxiety and taking an improv class, I’m feeling defeated. Really, all I need is a little encouragement. But apparently I have to do that for myself. When I start feeling like I am ready to give up (either in improv or in writing), I just have to keep going. Even when I feel like it’s pointless.
Eventually I might even get a surprise like the one I received today. I’ve been trying to grow my email list and felt like I was randomly throwing darts at a wall. Apparently one stuck. This week I have seventeen more email subscribers than I had last week! Which is evidence that patience and perseverance are necessary skills in writing, in improv, and in life.
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