Beach Ball Hat

beach ball 2

This summer my son, going into first grade, had one summer reading book, Stephanie’s Ponytail. The book was about a girl who wore a different hair style to school every day, she got mocked with a chant of “Ugly, ugly, very ugly.” and then the next day everybody would be wearing that hair style. It kind of reminded me of non-geek Ronald getting the cool kids to do The African Anteater Ritual dance in Can’t Buy Me Love.

Spoiler alert: (for Stephanie’s Ponytail, not Can’t Buy Me Love) She gets them all in the end by telling them she is going to shave her head for the next day. They all shave their heads and she does not.

The book was about individuality (though we talked more about the meanness of the chant.)

So for today they we’re assigned to wear a silly hairdo, if they felt comfortable doing so.

We talked about spikes, a faux hawk, tiny ponytails, but he wanted none of those.

All of the sudden he looked at me and said, with a huge amount of excitement and certainty, “I want to cut up that beach ball and wear it as a hat.”

I loved it. It is was the book, and my son personified. I don’t think I would have ever been able to make that choice in first grade and he had absolutely no qualms about it.

When I shared my blog publicly I did it cause I refused to teach my son to be embarrassed (He doesn’t know of my struggles because frankly it’s not necessary yet,) but I know one day he will and I wanted him to know I wasn’t ashamed.

But after today I feel like I won’t be teaching him lessons as much as he will be teaching me them.

So, I am grateful to my son for giving me a new improv (and life) goal: To have the fearlessness of a kid wearing a beach ball for a hat

 

Knock it the Fuck Off

“Knock it the fuck off”

I was told that this weekend and it was some of the best advice I have ever received

It was said at an improv workshop, led by the fantastically talented Dave Razowsky.

He told us that improvisers are actors and we were doing ourselves a disservice by not referring to ourselves as such. I told him I didn’t think I had the right to call myself an actor as I truly didn’t believe I possessed that talent.

His response was honest and meaningful.

It ranged from the aforementioned knock it [the stupid shit we tell ourselves] the fuck off to the beautiful “Let this be the last day we live small.”

Dave shared his wisdom and talent with a group of 12 or so of us improvisers actors. He shared in the most literal definition of the word. His passion, skill, warmth, we got to experience all of it. It was beautiful

While so many things he said affected me, the one I held on to the most was:

“Celebrate the uncertainty”

On stage, I can do that, In life, I find it much harder. 

The part of me that struggles with suicide is afraid of the uncertainty of a life that may have multiple stretches of severe depression. I find myself holding back on fully enjoying life because of the “not knowing” that comes with this chronic illness, and that is just a stupid way to live.

So I should probably knock it the fuck off.

Thanks Dave.

“I always wanted to grow up to be Amy Poehler.” – Amy Poehler

Oh this quote. How great is this quote? How did I not see that this should be my goal?
There are a lot of things I like about myself. That, by the way,is not a sentence I’m comfortable with.
I am so much more comfortable being self-deprecating. I can make jokes about myself that are better and funnier than any other jokes people can make about me. Is saying I’m funnier than other people being too cocky?
No, fuck no, it’s not.
I believe in confidence.
Confidence that is disproportionate to actual skill drives me crazy. You see this kind of confidence a lot in improv. Not all confidence is good, especially if it’s confidence that makes you blame other people and not want to grow as a person. Maybe that’s not confidence though, maybe that’s just being an asshole.
But if you have a skill and you’re not confident about it that’s just stupid.
In improv classes and workshops, I preach confidence. Who wants to hear about confidence from Little Miss Always”Me? No don’t say that compliment to me, you’re too kind.” I sure don’t.
When I grow up, fuck yeah, I want to be me and the first step to growing up is to start having some fuckin confidence.

Letters from Mood Disorder Camp:A journey from last year
Dear supportive person:
First of all, thank you for being a supportive person. I know you care about me and that means a ton.
Camp has been a very positive experience so far. I can relate to my fellow campers and that has made me feel a lot less alone. The Head Psychiatrist is really really good and has already made what will hopefully be helpful medication changes. The program also stresses cognitive behavior therapy which has been both helpful and fun to mock, so my needs are being met. I still have a ways to go but I am feeling hopeful with is a pretty amazing thing. Okay off to do some lanyard-ing.
Deena
———————-
Dear Supportive People,
First of all thanks to all of you for your kind, supportive, and generous words. Back when I was an 8 year old camper at sleep away camp, I sent my parents the following very earnest letter:
 
Dear Mom and Dad,
I fell off a horse, I fell out of a boat. I have poison ivy. I’m having a great time.
Love,
Deena
 In this same vein, I present this letter from camp IHOP:
Dear supportive people:
I am not sure how well my meds are working, I’m having trouble sleeping, I am depressed quite a bit. I think Camp IHOP is great, 
Love,
Deena
PS. I think it is great mostly because everyone there can relate to these same struggles and I am being given the tools to get better.
Leon and Rafi have been in Florida for five days and I am very appreciative of the single parenting Leon has been doing. I miss them terribly but have used the time to focus on getting better.

Okay, gonna go audition for the camp play, You’re a Good Man Charlie Brown, wish me luck.

———————-

Dear Supportive People,

Thanks for all of your continued support. Well, camp continues to be a challenge and a mix of ups and downs and struggling mostly with the amount of time it will
take for the medicine to work. And if it will work. I am cautiously optimistic, I think.
Some of my fellow campers came to my improv show and laughed a lot, which is a nice triumph when your audience comes from a mood disorders program. Though in hindsight they could have just been manic at the time.
Love,
Deena

———————-

Dear Supportive People,

Like any good camp, I am about to have my first field trip. On Wednesday, I will start  ECT treatments.
My Dr. assures me it is nothing like Jack Nicholson in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. While this is comforting, it also feels like telling someone being a best-selling author is nothing like being James Caan in Misery. I am hopeful though that this will provide the much needed relief.

Thanks always for your support.
Love,

Deena

———————-

Dear Supportive People,

My first treament went well and I am relieved to have tackled one and to know what to expect. I am having quite a bit of head and jaw pain, but that is to be expected and my knowlewdge of 80s TV trivia is still completely intact so I am feeling good about my memory holding up.
 

Thanks for all your continued virtual support.

———————-

Dear Supportive People,

I am about to have my fifth treatment. I am noticing quite an improvment and feeling better than I remember feeling in a long time. No memory issues either, which means I will most likely remember how boring the Oscars are this Sunday

W00t, as the kids say.

Love,

Deena

———————-

Dear Supportive People,

Rafi and I read “Life Doesn’t Frighten Me” a children’s book by Maya Angelou, for his nighttime story. The moment was not lost on me as the words felt true for the first time in a very long time.
 
Thank you all for your support during this particularly challenging journey.
 

I watch this clip several times a year. It’s what people loved most about Johnny Carson, having fun without being mean, treating his guest with respect while still adding some silly. If Johnny Carson were on your improv team, he would be the person everyone wanted to be in scenes with. He would add the details and specificity while still making his partner look good.

I performed on Friday night. Improv often gives me an energy boost, a feeling I imagine other people get from exercising, or heroin, or some other behavior I find too risky to engage in.

Being on stage with a group of people, making something up in the moment, while the audience reacts, I would pay for that high anytime. Well, I guess I have, with places like The Second City and The Annoyance being my dealers.

Friday’s show though, felt how I feel currently, not horrible but not good and no sustaining energy. I was bummed when the show ended because I was really hoping the boost would be there. I of course left stage analyzing everything that happened but in the end that helps little.

I’ll just sit here having the shakes, waiting for my next show, and watching comedy I love from others to hold me over.

Feel free to share any clips that give you giggles.

(Source: http://www.youtube.com/)

I had my last treatment two weeks ago. I feel like shit right now.

It doesn’t feel like the scary stuff but it is not rainbow, sunshiny goodness or even regular run of the mill-ness.

I go for a meds check tomorrow and, like a washed up 80s sitcom star going on Celebrity Apprentice in hopes of revitalizing their career,
I have a lot riding on this.

I am feeling positive. I feel that the yuck can quickly get better. And yet there’s just this little “oh fuck are we going here again?”

I have this beautiful blue pom pom scarf in my car. Whenever people see it they just love it. It was made for me by a brilliant med student, a brilliant depressed med student who was in my outpatient mood disorder program from last year.

if you put a bunch of people with OCD and anxiety disorder at a table for 3 hours a day they are going to need to do something with their hands so consequently I got a scarf, a beaded bracelet, some other really nice mementos from my depressive people’s day camp.

I don’t know what the point of all this is except to say “Could this journey be any weirder?

I have no idea how my brain is doing right now or what is going to help and I have a scarf from a very nice med student who brought her very observant Muslim parents to an improv show where I did a bunch of filthy scenes on stage, unintentionally offending them, while both myself and her were in the midst of a deep depression and I can’t even remember her name or have any idea how she is doing.

So, you know, that’s that.

Messing Lessons

“Just know you are right. You were right until you told me you were wrong.” -Susan Messing

Today Annoyance improv theater is celebrating it’s 25th anniversary. Annoyance is one of the best places you have never heard of. It is basically the improv equivalent of that older cousin you like to hang out with because he swears a lot and then one day you realize you learned a bunch of amazing life lessons from him, in addition to the colorful phrases.

The Annoyance taught me how to give and not give a shit in equal measure. It taught me what you do matters a lot and at the same time it doesn’t matter as much as you think it does. Also I learned a million things about cock rings.(Not everything I have learned from Annoyance has been put into practice.)

Annoyance was where I encountered Susan Messing, the kindest, filthiest improviser I have ever had the pleasure to learn from. Susan is full of greeting card-ready phrases like “Relax your crack bitches.” and “If you’re not having fun, you’re the asshole.” She is the improv world’s favorite older cousin.

The first time I studied with Messing it was part of a five day improv intensive. On the final day she was giving us some last pieces of advice and said, while getting choked up, “Just know you are right. You were right until you told me you were wrong.” And like all the best stuff from Annoyance it was just that simple. And just that complicated.

Watching Susan onstage is a lesson in fearlessness,skill, and strength.

Talking with Susan offstage is a lesson in how to treat others and make everyone feel valued and loved.

While waiting for ECT one day I messaged Susan to thank her for just being out there in the world. The kind, empathetic way she corresponded back with me has influenced the way I now interact with others

As I was trying to keep myself alive, I would often see a few tiny threads I was barely holding on to. One of those threads was the improv experiences I’ve had in Chicago and more specifically at The Annoyance, and ever more specifically with Susan Messing.

So happy 25th Annoyance. I am smarter, braver, and more cock ring knowledgeable* because of you.

*all cock ring knowledge provided by Mick Napier

Thank You Princess Leia

wishful_art


It’s not what you’re given, it’s how you take it” Carrie Fisher

You know you are a real improviser when you start finding improv in anything.
“Oh marriage it’s just like improv, you have to ‘yes and’ your partner.”
“Business is just like improv, you have to take risks and get out of your comfort zone to succeed.”
“Getting a Prince Albert piercing is just like improv, you have to go through the discomfort to reach the moments of true pleasure.”
And on and on.
The Carrie Fisher quote above can easily be viewed as perfect improv advice, and it is. Don’t blame your scene partner, rather make brilliance from what they give you.
This is not what was meant though. Recently I have been reading Carrie Fisher’s memoirs. I am drawn to them partly because of her ECT experience and partly because when your son digs Star Wars, it is really enjoyable to bring home books that have fun cover art like Princess Leia surrounded by drugs and alcohol. In saying the above statement, Fisher was referring to the fact we can’t blame our parents for our faults, we need to own them.This is a lesson I have learned, albeit late in life, and I credit it to the combination of good therapy and having a child of my own.
Any therapist who knows what they are doing will encourage you to take responsibility for your life. I must admit the choice to listen is on you and I might have required multiple attempts.
Having a child kicks this realization into overdrive. One day you reprimand them a little louder than you should or let the TV babysit them and you get the scary image of them one day yelling “I am totally messed up and it is all your fault.”
I have realized I was raised with an ounce of stuff that can mess you up and a pound of all the stuff that adds to your life. And as hard as it is to accept, you can’t complain about one without being thankful for the other. I know everyone is not so lucky and I am sure they have legitimate gripes.
I, on the other hand, am a grown adult and would be a complete ass-hat if I did not own my shit. Coincidentally, another lesson that is also true for improv.

“Will I still remember the theme song to Silver Spoons?” This is the first question I asked the psychiatrist when we discussed the possibility of ECT (shock therapy.) I’m pretty sure this is a standard concern. Like others I was worried about memory loss, a common side effect. This theme song represented two very important things for me. One, my son. Since he was born he has been sung to sleep with classic 80s theme songs. (Take that Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star. In our house you have been replaced.) Being told I would not forget the delightful Silver Spoons lyrics also helped in reassuring me that the memories I have when it comes to my boy would remain intact. Also, I have to be honest, in improv circles if I am known for nothing else I can always be counted on for my 80s television references. I dare you to try and out Golden Girls me. I was worried ECT would effect, possibly end, my ability to perform on stage. I am happy to report my theme song lyric knowledge is still fully there. As my treatments accumulate, I have had some memory issues.Remembering how to get places, recent events that have happened, and my skills on the improv stage have all been problems. Of course this is a a trade-off I am happy to except and I am hopeful when my ECT ends so will these side effects. ECT saved my life. Before these treatments the things that mattered most to me and their enjoyment were quickly diminishing. Life was beginning to feel like the photo in Back to the Future and the importance of staying alive for my love of my son and improv were, like Michel J. Fox’s movie siblings, beginning to fade away. ECT became as necessary as getting Marty McFly’s parents to fall in love with each other at the Under the Sea Dance and I am beyond fortunate it worked. Cue Johnny B. Goode. The lack of energy (I miss you hypomania) and inability to come up with the words in the moment on stage has been the toughest for me. These have always been my performing  strengths. This change though has given me the drive to increase my skill set and not to fall back on my usual bag of tricks. So for now I am making a go, making it grow and that feels really good.