“Peace fell upon her spirit. Strong comfort and assurance bathed her whole being. Life was so solid and splendid, and so good.”
As most of my faithful readers know, I’ve taken the past two years to focus on my recovery from manic depressive episodes & addiction. It’s been like clawing myself out of a grave that I dug for myself. I took a break from almost everything that I love, except writing. I quit acting and stand up comedy. My transition back into acting was relatively seamless, but getting up on stage to try & make you laugh has been a leviathan task. I thought when the time came for me to get up again there would be an obvious insignia striking me down like lightening. I kept waiting for it. Because of my compromised memory (due to the ECT) I have forgotten my old act. So what better time then to write a new one? Besides, half of my act is now unusable because it showcases my drug & alcohol use. Even IF the jokes were/are funny, I want to stay true to myself on stage.
I missed it- all of it, the clubs, the people, the whole scene- but I had to stay away from it, like a bad ex-boyfriend who I was still in love with. It genuinely felt like stand up comedy broke my heart. I kept praying for it to come back to me, to take me back.
That strike of lightening never came & the world of stand up continued to grow & move on without me.
It never occurred to me that I also grew & moved on. But I still carried the love for it in my heart & soul. So I came crawling back.
It’s welcomed me with open arms. I’m taking baby-steps, but I’m getting there. The community couldn’t be more open and kind about it.
And under those bright lights on that black stage with just me, the mic, the laughter & the crowd, I feel like I’m home again.