Tale #49: Keep Calm and Do Not Cry!

Throughout my time at VACT, I’m sure people had many adjectives they used to describe me including but not limited to: bossy, confident, controlling, talented, loud, certain, prepared, organized, ocd, obnoxious, meddlesome, pushy, etc.

However, only a close few in my inner circle understood that underneath all of those other adjectives was someone who was scared, unsure, panicked, and sometimes downright terrified.

As a child, I often bonded with older kids and adults more so than children my own age. I carried a certain level of maturity that helped the adults in my life view me as a potential leader rather than just a silly kid.

Getting to take on leadership roles from such a young age was a tremendous gift. However, there were many pressures that came with being a young leader, especially when that young leader was the captain of a ship with 100+ people involved.

Whether completely fictionalized in my head or due to the observations of others’ behavior, I always had the fear that some of the older and more experienced leaders were waiting for me to show my age. They wanted me to slip up, make a mistake, and do something that proved why young people should not be in charge.

Therefore, I worked extremely hard to make sure that for every rehearsal, I had a rock solid plan; for every question, I had a confident answer; and for every doubt, I had proof that I deserved to be where I was.

But I’m only human and sometimes humans lose their shit just a little bit. Or in this case a lot of bit.

In April of 2017, my parents went on a big trip to Argentina. As their child that lived close to them, I was their go-to dogsitter. So for the last two weeks of April, I stayed at their house to watch their three dogs.

One of those two weeks happened to be the tech week for the all-teen production of West Side Story that I was directing and co-choreographing.

West Side Story was a massive undertaking. We had a cast of 110 teenagers, a large set, a packed orchestra, and multiple tech crew members. This show was also the debut of Midnight Move-In (see Tale #27). I had no choice but to be on my A-game at every moment because I had more people depending on me than ever before.

Unfortunately, the universe wanted me to be on my B-game that week.

Our family dog Gibson, who still mosies on today, has a laundry list’s worth of health problems. While it is very common for Cocker Spaniels to have a lot of health issues as they age, it doesn’t make dealing with them any easier.

During my time dog-sitting, Gibson’s eyes were getting redder each day and the dog was clearly in discomfort. I ended up having to take him to the vet the day before midnight move-in. The vet told me his left eye pressure was way too high and it needed to be brought down immediately through drops given on a timed schedule. I was sent home with a prescription, an appointment to come back in a few days, and a new load of stress on my shoulders.

Heading into midnight move-in, my brain was already clouded by concern over the dog. Then it seemed like things only continued to crumble.

Normally, Uncle Charlie would come to help me with set moves, but he was in Argentina with my parents. So instead Cousin Charlie came to help me move along with his brother-in-law. Cousin Charlie was a little cranky. I get it, it’s late and teenagers can be a lot. It’s a stressful situation. But given my weakened mentality, I absorbed his crankiness like a sponge and felt it like a weight on my chest.

The reason we had to do midnight move-in in the first place was because a weird country music show was using the high school performing arts center on the evening of the saturday that would have normally been our move-in day. Since we absolutely needed our Sunday practice with the full orchestra, we had to get the set moved-in and rebuilt Saturday night.

Now these country music people and the PAC director could have been generous and helped us get in there as quickly as possible. However, they chose the opposite.

I literally had trailers full of sets and people full of energy waiting in the parking lot at 11pm for this five piece country western group to vacate the facility (after their show ended at 9:30pm mind you). I continually offered up our team to help tear down their set and pack up their equipment but they all refused.

It very much felt like they were all enjoying watching us wait for them.

Finally, we got into the space and were able to get to work. Only, there was another problem.

The set was just not fitting on stage the way we had thought it would back in the building. It just wasn’t working.

I had absolutely no idea what to do.

Normally, I would have had my mom, my dad, or my Uncle Charlie at the set move as family in my corner that I could turn to when things got overwhelming. They knew how stressful it could get for someone so young in that position and they were my go-tos when I needed help.

But they all decided to go to Argentina instead so there I was, little twenty-three year old me, frozen because I didn’t know how to fix the problem.

Our set construction manager continued to bark at me to make a decision as I sat there pulverized by my lack of experience.

I tried to fight it.

I told myself no.

I clenched my jaw with all of my might.

But to no avail.

The tears, oh the tears, started falling down my cheeks.

The dog, the cousin, the lateness, the country western singers, the set, the barking, the teenagers, the noise, the panic, the fear, the anger, just ENOUGH.

I had lost it.

While I didn’t have my mommy to help me, I was lucky enough that my substitute family of Sound Guy Dale and Lighting Guy Steve were there to recognize a kid in trouble and step in. They helped me work through the issues and we were able to get back on track.

We left the theater at 2:30am and returned at 9am to continue getting ready for the day’s practice.

Fast forward a few days to Wednesday. We’d had three good stage runs already and it was time for me to take Gibson back to the vet.

The eye drops had worked and his eye pressure had gone way down.

I, again, proceeded to cry. I was just overtired at that point.

Thank god my parents came back before performances started.

I was incredibly lucky to be given so many opportunities to lead, direct, choreograph, and develop my true love of theater from such a young age. However, I was even luckier to have an amazing group of people that supported me, helped me, and consoled me in those moments when my age caught me and I needed a shoulder to lean on.

I only hope I can be that support system for the next generation of up and coming theatrical leaders.

And for those curious about Gibson the dog, he unfortunately ended up getting both eyes removed. However, he has the most incredible sense of smell to carry him through the rest of his life.