“If I’m honest about it, I don’t know that I even got into comedy to entertain people. I think I got into comedy to have my point of view heard and to be seen.” - Marc Maron
I performed stand up again last night. I went up once back in March but before that, it had been since last October that I held a mic and it has now been ten months since I first answered that voice nagging me to get on stage and voice much of what I have been writing for years. Nothing about me suggests that stand up comedy would ever be the obvious or even natural next step, or any step whatsoever. I arrive at public speaking neither naturally nor gracefully. I loathe a certain amount of attention, especially when it feels completely centered on me. When someone compliments me, I can accept their sincerity but it feels like a bit much. Hearing the sound of my voice horrifies me. I do, however, have much to say and zero fear when it comes to discussing my own life, my struggles, the way I see and interact with the world and how humor truly surrounds us, hiding in plain sight.
Not only can I locate the humor but I need to locate the humor. This mind of mine is beautiful. It is multifaceted. It sees and feels everything. It also asks for much in order to manage. I understand how it feels to do the bare minimum to remain among the living. I remember months of rarely eating because I felt zero desire to and simply not recognizing any feeling of hunger. I remember only sleeping because my body would eventually announce that it could no longer stay upright and simply give way to slumber. One thing all of that extra time did offer was the opportunity to think, write, create and become hyper-aware of my surroundings and my feelings.
Someone once praised my “dark humor.” That particular compliment was one I immediately felt able to accept for several reasons, I imagine. However, while I understand what is meant by the term “dark humor,” I would argue against the claim. Mining and presenting humor about subjects that not everyone openly discusses is not itself dark. Humor exists everywhere but unfortunately, far too many people continue to adhere to societal norms regarding, among far too many things, what can be laughed at and openly addressed. The above Marc Maron quote is one I truly feel. Talking about specific periods of my life is not at all difficult and not everyone gets that. Moving through the experiences themselves claimed all of the difficulty. Living it was hard. Now, the other side has met me where I am and I get to point out and share the absurdity and laugh at it all because yes, life is funny. I believe in my point of view, that it is relatable and it is that knowledge that supremely matters. My therapist asked what it is about performing that feeds me. A great question. An important question. Along with the opportunity to present my point of view, it serves as another creative outlet, another way to write and move through the writing process and to process what comes at me. It allows me to dictate who I am. I accept and welcome that attention.
Many people have expressed to me how daunting the physical act of walking on stage and performing feels to them. Anyone can discover and cling to a measure of boldness when around those with whom they feel most comfortable. In fact, many (perhaps most) are content to remain entrenched among their circle. Vulnerability is not for everyone. I suspect that therein lies the rub. Last night, I realized again how much a part of me doing stand up feels, perhaps one of the truest forms of me. No matter how committed I continue to remain toward therapy, the four weeks (in my case) between sessions must be filled and I must always find ways to keep doing my work. I maintain what I have dubbed the umbrella of therapy. Performing allows me to connect my experiences to a different audience and acknowledge that our similarities exist in significantly more abundance than our differences.
In a way, when I go up, I am not even aware of the audience once I begin speaking. I am not there for them. I feel as though I am talking to a younger version of myself, a me who existed before all of this life experience and I am telling that guy that guess what, yes, you are going to go through some shit, be tested, get hurt, want it all to stop, concede that you had your periods of happiness, wish that your mind did not insist on being so fucking active but you will remain standing. And, as a bonus, as one who is naturally inclined and able to do so, you are going to realize that there is humor everywhere, you will laugh over and over and write bits about the darkest fucking nights and moments and circumstances from your life because yes, you understand pain but you also understand strength and how to push back. When you could find no other reason to remain, you pictured your beautiful dog and you stayed alive so that he could experience stability, safety and love for the rest of his life. Then, you rediscovered hope and how much you enjoy laughing. You find ways to flip what your mind attempts and you become more and more able to balance your reality.