I was a mess when I showed up at Jo’s ranch wanting to learn how to ride, I just didn’t realize it yet. I really didn’t trust anyone anymore and I had shut down emotionally. Being “just a housewife” was taking it’s toll. I’m more than that, but I don’t always believe that. Riding saved me in a lot of ways.
I forgot to finish this post before scheduling. — oh well. it works. You can find the rest of this story by clicking this link: The Dance of My People
I performed in a comedy contest two years ago. One judge told me to never perform comedy again after my first night. I had two more sets to do after that. Honestly all he did was piss me off — I may or may not have semi-intentionally torched that bridge while I was still standing on it. I may receive the grace at some point to make that right and I may not. I don’t know yet.
A second judge watched all three sets and then called bullshit on 90% of my jokes.
“If who you are communicating on stage is who you really think you are, then someone lied to you. Go find out who you really are, she’s the woman I want to see in your comedy next year.”
I then went home and promptly broke my ankle, had two major surgeries on my leg and was left without my go to for approval places, giving me 14 months to think about what both comics told me.
Neither judge was wrong.
I let fear rule my choices in jokes.
I wanted everyone to like me.
That was my first “big” comedy deal and I played it safe and I played it weak. I played “cute” to win people over.
It’s no wonder they didn’t like me, I didn’t even like the woman I pretended to be on stage.
I spent 14 months taking more than my comedy set back to the studs, I took myself there and I ended 2014 with a lot of letting go.
My trash pile includes:
Friends on Facebook who were only there because I thought I had something to prove — They were there as a see, you should have believed in me – look at me now kind of thing. Some were people I used to know but am no longer friends with and others weren’t even people I actually like in real life.
Names I’ve been called, things I’ve been told. Words like “lazy”, “Slut”, “Bitch”, “unwanted”, “stupid”, “bossy”, “Controlling”, “Bastard”.
Filling that wound with applause and achievements.
My need to control people by being cute or overly submissive.
Mind reading. I suck at it anyway.
Places and friends that are not safe.
Tilting at windmills — wasting energy and trying to change what cannot be changed. Controlling others.
Purposefully giving people a reason not to like me if I think they already don’t. Burning bridges while standing on them.
The desire to be known being over run by the fear of being found out. — that’s a big one and I’ll write more about that as the year unfolds.
Now you’d think after 30 years in a recovery program, I’d have all of this down cold. Notsomuch. One of the worst tag lines that’s going to take work for me is being told,
“I can’t wait for the day when I can prove to the world what a bitch you really are.”
That sentence alone has been the root of so many choices. That’s the sentence that I’ve allowed to define my actions and word choices for so many years. It also defined my sets and choice of jokes.
That’s the fear both comics saw manifest itself in that small theater in Indiana.
I learned a lot at The Cove. I learned that I’m not a bitch and that seasons pass just fine without my interference. I’m not any of those other labels either.
I’ve learned that I can know that for myself without having to inappropriately lean on those who already knew that for me.
So, I call a do over not only in my approach to comedy, but my approach to relationships as well and 2015 is just the year to do that.
Happy New Years you guys.
Much love,
Deana
My hiatus is over!
I am sharing a stage tonight with my good friend Ethan Barker. Come on out to the Comedy Parlor in Tulsa and have fun with us. Our show starts at 7:00pm and tickets are $10. It’s a clean show, rated PG-13 in a smoke free environment.
Click on the photo to go to their web page and order tickets under the calender section. See you there!
There is a saying in my circles that drives me absolutely crazy some times.
“This Too Shall Pass.”
Honestly, when I’m in the middle of THIS, whatever it is, I’m not all that keen on seeing the temporary of my situation. All I can see is the now and the now stinketh much sometimes.
Take my right now for instance. I am 30 weeks into what started as a simple ankle replacement. I am still in part one of that. My tibia is still broken and we haven’t even gotten to the ankle part. People have commented about my positive attitude and I want to tell you, there are days where my prayers sound like King David’s “How long Oh Lord?”
Now I do know that my leg is going to heal and that life will pick up again and that like the saying goes this will pass. I know this because 10 years ago, it was my heart that was broken instead of my leg.
10-years ago, I didn’t believe this would pass. I felt stuck in a never-ending cycle of hurt and disappointment.
While I was still depressed over my circumstances, I chose to trust God with a single step. Nothing major, just make my bed. Then it was get dressed. Then take a walk. Quit my job. And then the scariest of all – make a new friend. And another. And another.
Over time things changed. I started doing things that scared me to death for a moment and produced wonderful results. (I failed at a lot of things as well, but you know… I kept going anyway)
So beloved – where ever you are, whatever season you are in, know that things do pass, life does change, and if you take one small step of faith and courage great things will happen.
You don’t drown by falling in the water; you drown by staying there. Edwin Louis Cole
I do not take vacations without my family and grown men do not ask me for my phone number.
Well, except for that one time and that was a fluke. I swear.
The airport staff at DFW forgot about me and left me sitting at the terminal in a wheelchair with a broken ankle. Not that I knew yet that it was broken, but still. I am certain that if a stranger had not taken pity on me, I’d still be waiting at gate 32 C.
All I want at this point is to find my seat, order an adult beverage and pretend I am still on my cruise with my girlfriends.
The window seat is open, I take it and the cabin steward takes my crutches.
So what if I’m supposed to be in the middle, I want the window. Surely whomever has the window seat will see my plight, take pity on me and not make me move.
Turns out he too is tired, wants to find his seat, and order his own adult beverage and we recognize each other immediately.
I, the stubborn redhead sitting in his seat and he, the tall stranger standing in the aisle announcing confidently, “I know you are going to move over, right?”
He is right. I move. Broken ankle and all. Granted not without a sassy “Oh sure, make the cripple move.” We like each other instantly right up until 22C arrives.
He spends most of the flight talking to her. Over me I might add leaving me to feel like odd woman out. Yes that bugged me. Don’t judge. I was tired, and feeling well… middle aged.
I don’t blame him. She is young, cute, probably single and in town for a short business trip. Watching him work is very entertaining to say the least.
I’ll be honest, it takes everything I have not to pop off with a “Shoulda let me keep the window seat.” but my drink arrives and I have bigger things to figure out like explaining my broken ankle to my husband.
As we get ready to make our descent to Tulsa, Mr. window-seat remembers that I am in the row and says to me, “So let me guess, you’re a housewife.”
OUCH!
He strikes out with 22C and that’s the best he’s got for me?
I know, I know. I’m married. I shouldn’t care but crimony the dude could at least TRY!
Housewife.
pffffft.
I already know – because it’s hard not to eaves drop when you are stuck in the middle – that Mr. window-seat’s name is Tim*, he is a physician’s assistant / surgeon who is just returning from taking care of his old sick mother in Atlanta and he had two brother’s who have died leaving her alone with just him to care for her…
blah blah blah gag me.
I mean she got the “I’m a rich doctor who loves his mother.” pickup, and I get “housewife.” like I’m some kind of consolation prize or something.
At 40 something years old, this cuts me to the quick. He’s not exactly a Spring chicken himself mind you. I have zero interest in this man and yet there is no way I’m letting housewife go unchallenged. Even if it is true.
“As a matter of fact, I’m a stand up comic.”
So there Mr Bigshot!
What happens next is a blur.
Within three minutes okay maybe 60 seconds, he is wanting to know where I do comedy in Tulsa and asks for my phone number so that I can let him know when my next gig is.
and…
I give him my number.
He even sends me a text when we land so that he doesn’t lose it. Oh boy. I am so in trouble.
It has been at least 20 years since a man has asked for my phone number. I can’t remember how to make one up. This is going to take some serious “splaining” as Ricky Ricardo would say.
I’ve taken two vacations ever in my entire life with my girlfriends and I come home from the second one with a broken ankle and now some guy I just met on the plane has my phone number.
This should be interesting.
I do quick introductions in luggage. Mr window-seat waits with my wheelchair while my husband gets the car and we never see each other again.
Who says life after kids is boring?
*Name changed to protect his identity, not that I believe he gave me his real name in the first place. I’m not even sure that he’s a surgeon. I did get the text he sent me on the plane asking for my next gig and I sent him the link to the Comedy Parlor where I hope to be performing soon and left it at that. I had surgery shortly after my trip and I’m still in a boot. It’s going to be a long time before I get to do comedy again.
I am also fairly certain that it is going to be a LOOONG time before I get a weekend pass to go on a vacay with my girlfriends again as well.
Deana O'Hara - Speaker, Comedian, Writer 