This wasn’t the plan. The plan was to write a solo show.
After spending my 30s navigating C-PTSD (not to mention a Trump presidency, a global pandemic, and oh, hey, another Trump presidency), I wanted to burst into my 40s stronger and more creative than ever. I attended a reading of a friend’s show and got the bug. “Now” was my time to make the move. I immediately reached out to a coach and got to work.
Except. I didn’t really. I sort of got to work. Because “now” was two years ago, and all I have to show for it is about 3 ½ pages of disjointed thoughts, and a list of reasons why I haven’t finished it yet.
The fact is, I haven’t done it because I don’t want to.
On paper, it makes sense for me to do it. I am passionate about being open about mental health, I do have a story to tell (we all do), and there is nothing I love more than connecting with an audience. But what I was trying to do with creating a show was replace the void I felt having lost theater as a constant for me (a post on that later). And yes, part of that itch would be scratched by ultimately getting up on a stage and saying, “here I am again,” but most of it wouldn’t. I miss collaborating. I miss being in a group of creative people trying to achieve the same goal. I love the rehearsal process and doing the work – I just don’t love doing it alone and just for me. And even with a coach (who is amazing and I can’t recommend her enough – her info is down below), the majority of the process would be me, my thoughts, and my computer.
If I could pay someone to sit with me 2 hours a day to bounce ideas and play with words, I would do it in a heartbeat. But last I checked, I did not marry that lawyer in my 20s and I am on a single income salary in Manhattan. (We’re still doing okay; I have a balcony and lots of closet space).
I decided to stop writing the show. Which wasn’t easy for me, as it felt like another thing in the pile of “cool shit I almost did.” It’s easy to look at that pile and feel like a failure (especially as a typical ADHDer who was told she was “lazy” and “unmotivated” about 100 too many times). It’s actually a lot easier to look at the failure pile than the pile of evidence that I am, in fact, very much not lazy and very much motivated when I am locked into the right things. For every one thing I bailed on, there is something else I saw completely through. And if there is one thing navigating a years long mental health crisis has taught me, I am a master at the art of the pivot (PIVOT!).
No, I’m not writing a show. But I am doing this, the bite-sized version. Who knows what it will turn into.
I have accomplished and learned a lot in my 39 years and 8 months, and I am ready to tell that story. So, here I am, world. Let’s get into it.
Coach with Arielle: https://www.ariellebethklein.com/
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