91. CRYING WHILE DIRECTING, AGAIN
and so many travel pictures
for the second time this year, i had a serious panic attack at work. i’m okay. i’ve been thinking about it a lot, though.
one of the main things i remember about my childhood is how much i cried. specifically, how much i cried at school and other places it wasn’t considered suitable for me to cry.
the message i received over and over (usually from teachers, usually from men) was that my crying was inappropriate, embarrassing, and weak. that my tears disgusted and scared them. that there was no way i could possibly be crying and competent at the same time. i heard them, loud and clear, and i thought that they were right. even though i knew my crying was an uncontrollable response to (usually) reasonable emotions, i accepted that my tears, and i, were wrong.
i wished every day for a thicker skin. i tried again and again to pull my tears back from the web of my eyelashes and failed and failed and failed. i cried at school, and when i was old enough to work, i cried at work. nobody enjoyed this, me included.
over the past year, though, i’ve noticed how much more control i seem to have over my emotions, or at least their outward expression. i finally grew the thicker skin i had been craving. that’s right, team… i barely ever cry at work! please clap!
but this week, i did. i really cried. a conversation i had right at the start of rehearsal triggered a full-blown panic attack. i sobbed through an entire two-hour dress rehearsal, typing notes with tears streaming down my face. i stepped out once and wiped my face off, then came back and continued crying all over my keyboard.
and here’s the thing: people basically weren’t weird about it. a couple people asked if i was okay, but didn’t push me to explain or remove myself from the room. nobody looked horrified. i was still excellent at my job. if we hadn’t been about to start a run, i would have stepped out for a second, but given that we were, i wanted to be there, and nobody said i couldn’t be.
and still, my first reaction was shame. after rehearsal, i went to my friend matthew’s cabin and sobbed some more. i told him how small and embarrassed i felt, how sure i was that everyone was judging me. he sat with me, listened patiently, and waited until i was ready for him to speak.
i actually think that when your emotions come through this strongly, it shows people how much you care, he said. i argued with him. (i argued!) he kept going. i think people will see the depth of your feeling and they’ll respect your advocacy. i think they’ll take your tears seriously.
and suddenly i was talking about how, sometimes, i hate my hard-won thicker skin. how it’s very “helpful” in terms of being “productive” under capitalism and "appropriate” under patriarchy, but it often leaves me feeling alienated from myself.
this feels like a good moment to return to a greta gerwig quote that i love, which i shared in one of my first ever posts on substack, the o.g. “crying while directing.”
“yes, i cry while directing almost every single day.”
i don’t need to cry while directing every day, but i love that someone is out there offering it as an okay option. i’m trying to work on black-and-white thinking in a lot of parts of my life, and this is one place i can start: reminding myself that crying at work can actually be… fine. not a nightmare and not a requirement to prove how empathetic i am, just… a thing that happens sometimes. a thing i can notice, a thing i can be curious about in the moment or save for later.
anyway, i continue to circle around and around the same lessons. i’m going to be working on this one for a while. thanks for being here while i do.
p.s. this post is too long for email! click the title in your inbox or click HERE to read it on my little substack website so you don’t miss anything.
reading.
started everything i know about love by dolly alderton. really looking forward to her latest, good material, as soon as i can get my hands on a copy.
this profile of reneé rapp.
one of my friends in the cast had me pull an oracle card during rehearsal. it was so close to something matthew had said to me the day before that i actually gasped out loud.
seeing.
in addition to several performances of another rose (see “making”), i got to check out some of the other shows on board the ship. i caught persephone, which is like an immersive club circus jukebox retelling of the greek myth, twice, and most of the hostess sings her secrets, which is sort of like if postmodern jukebox were a live solo cabaret show. i also caught glimpses of scarlet night, the ship-wide show/party that happens once every voyage.
i also watched a recording of the little dog, the absolutely bonkers little musical that cast 2.0 dreamed up during their time onboard.
i fully did not debark the ship for a week, so most of what i saw was the resilient lady, including several restaurants (pink agave, extra virgin, test kitchen, and razzle dazzle).
i also saw some truly unbelievable skies.
then, hallelujah, i finally stepped off for a few hours in melbourne…
and for a few hours in hobart, tasmania. it was lovely there — i so wish i could have spent more than a morning exploring.
the good place. i have watched it before, but it’s on the cabin tvs on board so i started a little rewatch, and it’s just so good.
i’m up to episode 9 of this season of love is blind.
hearing.
making.
we’ve been seriously hard at work trying to get another rose 3.0 up on its feet. see below for views of tech and performance, me and one of the light poles i spend half my time wrangling, the hallway that takes me to work every day, and me pointing at stuff during a lighting touch-up session.
our rehearsal contract joined us in making the trip from orlando to the tasman sea, as pictured below.
i also got to watch another rose 2.0’s final three performances! i left the ship after their first three shows, so there was a nice symmetry about my return. the immersive pre-show (my baby!) has gotten stronger and stronger, which makes me really proud. the cast has done such a great job of making the space their own, and it was a gift to get to celebrate all their hard work. my schedule won’t allow me to do the next another rose install, and i’m already sad i won’t be able to see cast 3.0 at the end of their run.
finally, please enjoy the below picture of the another rose 3.0 creative team at our most breakfast club.
💕 I have done a lot of crying while stage managing! I was also a very teary child and I have recently felt like I lost my ability to cry so I was really interested in your thoughts on crying in rehearsal.