From There To Here

Let’s take a little trip back in time shall we?  The year is 2004, it’s April in Ohio, the ground has thawed, the birds returned from their winter getaways, I was just weeks away from graduating from Wittenberg University and I was being a royal bitch around the theatre department. I’d made it clear to all and sundry that I was done, d-o-n-e, done with theater and all its drama and once I walked out of there with my diploma, I was never walking into another theatre again.

“You’ll be back.” One of my professors said to me one day when I was on my way out. “I don’t think so Jimmy.” I replied with a chuckle, trying to keep it light.

He wasn’t having any of it though,

“You’ll be back.  I know you will.  You would’ve never made it this far if you didn’t love it and you can’t give it up.  It’s in your blood.  You may say you’re tired and to hell with this, I know I have.  I tried so many times to quit, but I came back.  And you will too.”

It was the greatest compliment I’d ever received from Jimmy, and probably the most serious discussion we ever had but it’s seared onto my heart.  But there was a lot more going on than just what was on the surface. I growled that I was burnt out, tired, and just ready to be done but deeper than that I was also angry because while all my fellow seniors were taking their degrees and moving on to bigger and better things, I was pregnant with number 4, the only thing I was moving onto was more diapers and less sleep.  But even deeper than the pure jealously of the other seniors planning their internships, fellowships and whatever other “ships” they were planning, there was an underlying anger that was directed at me.  Because I knew what everyone else didn’t, that the only thing stopping me from pursuing my own career in theatre, was me.  My own mind had betrayed me.

I know I’ve talked about my panic attacks before but only up until I got diagnosed but the battle with panic attacks goes further than just a diagnoses and medication because even though the attacks themselves had faded, the effects of having my brain sending a false message of danger had already taken it’s toll on my psyche.  First of all, when you have panic attacks, there is always a worry that you will have a panic attack which, ta-da, creates panic attacks.  So whenever I was out and about, I’d have this nagging thought of “Am I going to panic?  Is it going to hit me right now?”

Also, anytime I would start to feel uncomfortable, I would start to feel the panic coming on.  It’s like a gauze curtain hung between me and the rest of the world.  I could see and hear, but I wasn’t really a part of what was going on.  I would start to feel light headed and unbalanced. I would start to wonder if people noticed that there was something wrong with me.  Then I would worry that there was something wrong with me, maybe I was dying, maybe I had some kind of undiagnosed condition, or maybe I was just going crazy.

So I started avoiding any situation that made me uncomfortable.  Even my own family holiday filled with boisterous Italians was too much for me to take and I started coming late, and leaving early to any and all family functions, which didn’t endear me to anyone.

 

My comfort zone got  smaller and smaller till by the time I was graduating from Wittenberg, I had only 3 places I felt totally comfortable, home, Kroger’s E. Main, and Wittenberg, and I knew I was about to lose one, which would make my world even smaller.  And all this is happening at a time when my world should have been opening up into limitless opportunity.

So I growled and acted like a 10 year old sad because it was the last day of camp, so instead tries to ruin it.  I convinced myself that I would be perfectly content being at home, raising my family, creating my perfect nest and just enjoying all the things I hadn’t had time for the last few years.

But the thing about that plan was as it turns out I’m total crap at all those happy homemaker things.  I have absolutely no eye for color and decorating, cleaning is a futile effort that has about a five minute satisfaction time on it, and dealing with money is just always depressing since we never have enough to go around.  It also turns out that while I love and adore my kids, they ask way more questions than any person can happily answer.  I start off the day well, but by the end, I just feel like a failure as a mother when I’m hiding in the basement, hoping no one comes looking for me to ask me anything.

So overall I felt like a failure at home, at all the things I should be able to do, I am a college graduate for goodness sake but yet, so inhibited by my own anxiety, that I felt like I couldn’t do anything else.

I also felt alone.  I didn’t have classmates anymore, all my friends were still swinging singles, and everyone who had kids my age where older and already established with their own friends.

So I continued on with the day to day life, but inside I was miserable, depressed, and anxious.  That went on for about 4 years.  For 4 years, I had nothing to do, no one to do it with, not that I would’ve done it anyway.

But then, in 2008, things started to change.  Andy really started it, by forcing me to go out with him.  He would line up a sitter and make the plans, do everything but push me out the door because he knew that I needed to get out.  But, Andy was deciding what we did and where we went and it always seemed to be the same thing, go see a jam band that he wanted to see.  Now, I got nothing against jam bands, but that’s Andy’s thing, not mine.  So one day, after we had gone to see Government Mule and Dark Star Orchestra,

 

“I want to pick out the next thing we do.”

I think Andy was just pleased as punch that I would suggest we go do anything, so he happily agreed and asked “Who do you want to go see?”

“Oh, what’s that one guy you made me listen to and then we downloaded his album?  You know the guy with the funny name that sounds like a black blues singer.”

“Langhorne Slim?” Andy asked, and before I could even agree he was looking up his tour schedule.  And lo and behold, it was my lucky day because Langhorne Slim was playing just an hour away from us that Saturday night.

I felt like the god’s were on my side when I managed to talk my mother in law and my parents into babysitting for us.  I called my sister and a couple friends and invited them along, and everyone was so surprised that I would call and suggest we go out, that they all agreed and didn’t much care what they were agreeing to.

You ever have one of those nights when you just feel like something big is going to happen, well, that’s how I felt that night driving to Columbus with my sister, brother in law, and Andy.  I didn’t even talk much; I just wanted to get there.  When we did finally arrive and meet up with Chris and Lauren, who lived in Columbus, I was a jittery nervous, but not panicked, just feeling good. And as soon as we got into that little nothing bar, that could hold maybe 200 people, because it didn’t have any tables or chairs, I saw it, the hat.  Now, I’d only seen some grainy footage of Langhorne Slim and there wasn’t much I could discern except that he wore the same beat up hat all the time it seemed and I didn’t recognize the guy under the hat, but I knew that hat, and I knew that Langhorne was just milling around before the show started.  But it wasn’t until a little while later, that I got my chance to talk to him. He was just standing outside the bar, all by his lonesome, so me being me, decided to take my opportunity

“Hey, I’m sorry to bug you, but can I get a picture?” I asked.

“Sure, if I can have a cigarette.”

That was the first time I talked to Langhorne Slim. He came over to our group, introduced himself as Sean and I gave him a cigarette. We started talking as though we’d known each other for years and for probably 20 minutes like he had nothing better to do.  Other people would come up and talk, one guy even came up and asked us if we knew whether this Langhorne Slim guy was any good, and we all tried to keep a straight face when Sean replied “Well, I think so.”  People would come and get a picture, but he still kept up the conversation with us and by the time he left to go up onstage, all I could think was “God, I hope this guy is as good as I think he is.  I would have to think that someone so nice sucked.”  But as it turned out, there were no worries From beginning to end it was amazing to watch and by the time we left I was in speechless wonder that someone so incredibly talented was playing in some shitty bar in Columbus Ohio.

All the way home I was consumed by thoughts why, why is so much talent going unrecognized.  That night when we got home and the next day, I started researching, and strategizing.  It was like a switched had just been flipped in my brain.  The curtain had been lifted and I was part of the world again.  I was using my knowledge, my experiences, and my own brain again for something that didn’t’ involve kids.

I put together some solid ideas of promoting Langhorne Slim and sent them off in an email to an address listed on a MySpace page, and a couple days later I hear from his agent.  He likes my ideas; he wants to give me a call to talk, would that be alright?  Alright?  Are you kidding me?  It was awesome! Here I had someone reaching out to me because they liked my ideas and thought I had something valuable to offer.  I couldn’t believe it and the most amazing thing was I was excited again.

I hadn’t even realized that I had been missing that in my life.  I hadn’t even noticed how isolated and repressed I had come.  I had simply been responding to the events in my life instead of playing and active role in shaping them and I felt reawakened to life.

For about a year, I had the opportunity to work with Langhorne Slim, and I use that as a general term for the band as a whole. We would talk; I would get inside info and opportunities to go to any show I wanted. I got meet fans from all over and once again I was part of something and it felt amazing.  My thoughts and ideas were valuable and respected.  I got to watch my plans come to fruition and to share in the joy of the fans when things I already knew about, sometimes things I had created were unveiled.  I felt in touch with the world again.  Was it a devastating success?  No, not really, not in any measurable terms in the world of business, but it was a success for me.  It brought me back into the world, reminded me to stop looking at my world with such narrow eyes and to realize the value of myself.

Now, in June of 2010, Sean signed with Dolph Ramseur, another agent, and as soon as I heard the news, I knew I was out.  Ramseur is a solid agent with his own team of people, and they wouldn’t need me.  I wasn’t happy, I wished they would’ve wanted me too, but I wasn’t upset and deep down, I knew that it was time for me to stop riding Sean’s coattails and make my own way.

It took another year for me to finally get up the courage to try, but stand up comedy was something that always been in the back of my head as something for me to try before I die.  And when my work with Langhorne was over, the idea planted itself in my brain and wouldn’t let up.  I had to try.  I had to see if I’d finally conquered my panic attacks, if I was finally ready to make that last leap into recovering myself again.

I challenged myself by going to Slim shows by myself and by flying to Austin with Andy, if I could go onstage and not panic, well, then I would finally feel whole again, ready to embrace new challenges.

I was scared shitless when I went into the Wiley’s Fireworks Comedy Contest, and looking back on it now, I’m glad I didn’t realize what I was in for.  I really had no business stepping up onto that stage for the first time in the middle of the contest full of seasoned amateur comics, because if I had known, I wouldn’t have done.  And that would’ve been shame because that was truly the one of the most satisfying experience of my life.  I honestly walked off that stage not caring if I was dead last, I had done my five minutes, I didn’t choke, I didn’t panic and people laughed.

After the show was over, other comics started coming up and giving me their cards and asking my questions about where else I’d performed.  It was just like that first night talking to Langhorne and the people I’d met going to shows, that feeling of camaraderie and understanding.  It’s just as great as actually being onstage, that feeling of once again being a part of a group, feeling like I fit in and yes, feeling like I’m really good at something.

Now, as I’m just days away from my first time producing, promoting and performing my own show, I can’t help but look back at how far I’ve come.  From once feeling like I had no options, to now feeling like there just isn’t enough time for all the things I want to accomplish. And that’s why I will always love Langhorne.