S.A.D.

I’m writing today, because it’s a rough day. There’s nothing wrong, but I don’t feel right. And after writing in my own journal I wanted to share my thoughts with those who might also feel off today. Hang on until tomorrow.

My thoughts today start back in October. I had just finished directing High School Musical. Our Shakespeare team had just competed in and placed well in the Utah Shakespeare Festival. According to my Facebook, things looked pretty good:

I have a big smile and I’m around lots of people that I love! But inside this was happening:

October 3, 2020

Experiencing generalized anxiety lately.

• Panic attacks

• Shortness of breath

• Aches

• Headaches/tension

• Nervous

• Worried

• Impending doom

• Hard to focus

• Confusion

• Overwhelmed

• Upset stomach

• Scared

• Bad dreams - people trying to hurt me

I have proactively cancelled classes, exercised, meditated, used coping skills, sleep, diet, etc but this feels out of control. 

***

You never know what’s going on inside of other people.

Anyway, that bring us to today.

December 22, 2020

In response to my increased anxiety, Dr Ferrin said that I could double my dose of lexapro back in October. My body seems to be ultra sensitive to medication though and doubling made me more jittery. So I am now taking 1 and a half pills. That has been a good dose. However, I am now really beginning to feel the winter blues. When I am in a certain mental state, it is hard to remember being in any other state. So, that is why I wrote down my anxiety symptoms in October. So now, I’m going to record my “SAD” feelings (Seasonal Affective Disorder) :

• Increased fatigue. Can’t fully wake up until the sun is out - at least 9 or 10am. Today I got out of bed at noon. I was awake earlier but wasn’t ready to face the day.

• Confusion - can’t remember the important things I would normally do, or in what order to do them.

• Apathy - don’t really care about my personal appearance or my home.

• Fear - general fear of being around people especially. I don’t want to be judged or friendly.

• Loss of interest in normal fun activities.

• Fear of the future - I won’t be able to do anything ever again. (Especially things that involve other people like theater.)

• Increased impulses: spending too much money; impulsive sexual thoughts.

• Impatience and snapping at people.

• Body aches.

• Crying a lot. Extra sensitive to good and bad.

I noted how fast this came on last week - even though I have been feeling a lot better mentally, and I have been exercising 4-5 times a week at the gym (running a mile in 11 minutes, swimming, weight lifting, calisthenics) and I have been counting calories and eating well. I have been taking time for spiritual devotion and family time. Even with all of that positive behavioral stuff - which I know helps - even with all of that, the darkness & cold are powerful. I have been able to enjoy happy moments with my family but I drop so quickly back down into an empty dark pit as soon as those moments pass.

I read earlier this year that SAD doesn’t only affect people in the winter. Apparently, it is also associated with increased anxiety in the summer. I have been experiencing that the past few years and I didn’t know why. The body is complicated. The spirit is complicated. 

In the past I have tried to get up early in the winter and force myself awake with a little bright blue light in my lap as I sat in bed. I think it helped in some ways, but in other ways it just hurt my spirit to be ripped unnaturally from bed when it was still dark outside. Other years I have just let my body sleep until it was ready to wake up and that felt much more natural. This morning I have been reflecting on seasons again. The seasons of nature are so beautiful; each has its joys and challenges though. I have often mused: what would we think about autumn if we didn’t understand the seasons. After a bright and colorful spring and summer all of the trees start to wither, brown, and die. That would most certainly be a cause for panic if we didn’t understand that after winter comes a beautiful bright spring. I am 46 now, but I am still trying to understand the seasons of my body and brain. However, as I recognize patterns to my anxiety and my depression, I am grateful to find tools along the way to help me. And one of those tools is the very fact of recognizing seasons and patterns.

I’m not quite sure what to do about that though. I’m doing what I can, but in the winter my capacity and my desire to DO anything is greatly diminished. So I make lists in the summer and fall to help me remember the basics of what I need to do in the winter: pray, read my scriptures, clean my room, exercise, make dinner, do laundry. And there are days when I don’t even want to shower, brush my hair or teeth, or get dressed - let alone all of the other basics I just listed. And I just ride those waves. At least one thing I’ve learned about the seasons of my mental health is that it will change. The tides will turn. Spring will come. 

There have been much darker days in my life. Days where I wished I had never existed. Days I wished I were gone. And so many days where I felt a black hole of a tornado churning nonstop inside of me - where every input, every thought, every experience was sucked inside, swirled around and spit back out with the ugliest, darkest interpretation. I have felt like I am falling endlessly through a dark never-ending tunnel with nothing to grab onto. Utterly helpless and hopeless. 

I have had two main tools that helped me feel suddenly “caught.” I felt as if a safety net was suddenly and gently cradling me so that I could begin to crawl out of the darkness. The first was the wonderful group counseling I started in 1999 with Recovery International. And the second was when I started taking lexapro in 2019. It is amazing to see the difference that serotonin makes in my life! In the middle of January I suddenly felt like it was the height of summer. I had energy, positivity and drive again. I felt like me again, the best me. I felt like I had landed safely after falling and spinning through my dark tornado pit. Not perfect, but more stable.       

Even with counseling and medication, I still have ups and downs. But they are smoothed out. They are not the jerking ups and downs of a runaway roller coaster, but more like the gentle bobbing of a boat on a still lake. One tool I have learned to adopt is to just let myself be. It only makes things worse to put yourself down or feel guilty for the sadness. If I’m having a rough day, I just change my plans and adjust. And wow! Changing plans and adjusting to something new - that alone has been a HARD thing to learn. In the past, if a change was thrown at me I felt like a pane of glass that shattered when the unexpected ball was thrown at it. I felt paralyzed and in danger. When I am mentally healthy, I am able to catch that curve ball as if I’m a flexible net - instead of the broken glass. I can breathe, think clearly and adapt.

If you are in the pit, if you are in the middle of the whirlwind please know that you are not alone. You are worth saving. And there are people and tools out there to help you. Would you be ashamed to see a doctor if you broke your arm? Do you judge people with chronic physical illnesses when they seek treatment to survive and maintain life? Please understand that mental illness is real. It has physical and spiritual causes. Seek the help you need because you love yourself. 

I am much more loving to myself now than I have ever been in the past. And that is why I am sitting here typing and reflecting today. I needed a moment to process and catch myself. Again. And I hope to share with all of my friends and loved ones who sometimes only see and know the shiny happy me. I’m not trying to hide the difficult times. And I am not faking the happy times. I am complicated - we all are.

This is me too: in my pajamas at 2:47pm. Eyes a little red from crying. Body achy and tired. Smiles feel heavier to manage and I have to try extra hard to just BE. But I have a lot to live for. I understand that this season will change, and now I’m going to go put some clothes on (maybe take a shower...okay probably not) and wrap some Christmas presents.

Love to you all! Mama Gigi

Quarantine Crochet

December 6, 2020 Sunday

Quarantine crochet: Around the beginning of the covid-19 pandemic, I coincidentally subscribed to a monthly crochet kit. I love to crochet but recently I had not made any time to sit down and do it. So, I thought this monthly kit would pace me nicely and be a reminder each month to crochet. Little did I know I would have SOOOOO much time on my hands to do it. This pattern is for an afghan made of 30 squares. Each square has a unique pattern. I thought this would also be a fun way to practice different patterns and have this afghan serve as a bit of a sampler to refer to later. 

Every time I begin a new crochet project I read the instructions very carefully. Sometimes, I have to take it one stitch at a time to make sure that I’m doing it just right. Often, each row has a repeating motif, so when I get in the swing of things I can put the instructions aside and just crochet. But I always check in again with the instructions when I get to the end of a row to make sure that I know how to finish it off and get ready for the next row. These squares also have larger repeats, like “for rows 7-18, repeat rows 3-6, 3 times.” When you get to this point, you’ve completed the design once and then you just have to do it again (and again! And AGAIN!!) 

At the beginning of the instructions, the overall design is usually unclear to me. Even when there is a picture of what it’s supposed to look like, I can’t always tell how the stitches I am making will become the final design. By the time I get through the repeating pattern once, the design is more clear and I have greater confidence that I understand what I’m doing. The rows become familiar and I just need a little reminder at the beginning of each. Then I can set the instructions aside again and just enjoy crocheting. 

Sometimes I make huge mistakes! Today I picked up a square from last week. There was something terribly wrong, but I was only about 5 rows into it. I wasn’t quite sure where I had gone wrong, but I could see that I needed to start over completely. So, I grabbed the yarn and started to pull. It’s sad and yet oddly satisfying at the same time to unravel your work. It comes apart way too easily & quickly! But, with the experience of attempting this new pattern once already, I looked at the pattern with fresh eyes and began a new chain. This time, the pattern made much more sense. I realized that I had been distracted the last time I worked it and that had led to the misshapen disaster that I had to pull apart. The new block came together more easily the second time and ended up being beautiful.

So here are some of the analogies I’ve pulled from my Quarantine Crochet project.

Each block is different, like the seasons of our lives. Unlike real life, each block pattern is rated with a difficulty level - if only we had a warning at the beginning of each month (or life season) about the difficulty level that life is about to throw at us! 

When I am unsure, I read the instructions very carefully. This reminded me that I do the same thing when life is unsure. I find peace and comfort in reading God’s instructions in the Bible and Book of Mormon. When I am feeling more confident again, and spiritually fed, I can go forward and enjoy life and serve others; just like the ease of crocheting when I understand the pattern. And just like I have trust that whoever wrote down the crochet pattern knew what they were doing, I trust that the Lord knows the big picture of my life and will help me. I can trust the instructions.

I feel like the end of each row is sort of like the way I get to check in with myself and the Lord each Sunday as I renew my baptismal covenants and take the sacrament. It’s good to just check the “instructions” again and make sure that I’m headed in the right direction. 

When I make a mistake, I can unravel and start again! Change seems hard in real life. Repentance seems like a punishment sometimes. But the reality is, like the ease of unraveling my crochet work, the Savior can make change and repentance a joy. The hardest part is that first moment when you are not sure that you want to pull the string, unravel and start over again. But it is worth it!

The monthly kit contained 3 squares per month. I started off “on schedule” but was not able to maintain it. I know, I should have had plenty of time in quarantine right? But other life events took priority: a daughter’s marriage, a daughter’s mission call, and a daughter’s first semester at college. And that’s ok. The extra yarn and patterns are sitting in my closet, waiting for me. Because after all, our best plans and schedules sometimes need to change to make us available for the people in our lives.

Final lesson: My squares don’t have to be perfect! I like the variety of patterns in each block. They each look pretty good individually. But if you look at my blocks together, it’s easy to see that they are NOT all perfect squares (I’m not sure that any of them are!) Some are definitely rectangles and at least one became a rhombus. But you know what? Just like the seasons of my life - they are not all the same. I can look back at who I was 10, 20, 30, and yes even 40 years ago and appreciate each block of time for what it was. I can appreciate ME for who I was and how I have grown and changed. It’s the unique pattern of each that makes it beautiful. And when I am finished with all of my squares, I will stitch them together in a beautiful afghan to warm my loved ones. And I will be proud of my completed Quarantine Crochet project and all of the life lessons that it taught me. 

Happy 100th Grandma Annie 🎂 ❤️ 🎶

Today, December 10, 2018, my grandma, Annie Alena Gardiner Bullock would have turned 100 years old. She passed away in 1998 and I miss her. But I often feel like she is watching over me and my kids.

Grandma Annie was a fireball. She was a musician, a poet, a mother and a leader. She loved to laugh - at life and at herself. She loved the color red, Christmas, and fun shiny jewelry. But most of what I know about her energetic, enthusiastic life is from the memories of others. As a child, I usually only saw her during the summer when we would drive to Utah from California for our family vacation. I always felt loved and important when I was with her. But sadly, every year that we visited, she had lost a little bit of her strength, speed and mobility. The legendary fireball that I heard so much about was slowed down by Parkinson’s disease, until she basically depended on my grandpa for everything. But the worst part was that her mind was still on fire! That lady never lost her wit! Her biting sarcastic sense of humor was delightful. And the love and light in her eyes was bright. 

As I reflect today on my Grandma Annie, my heart swells with pride that I am related to this magnificent woman. And I wish that I could have been a part of her life when she was at her peak! So many things about her remind me of me. I think we would have had a wonderful time putting together musical productions side by side, wearing red dresses and laughing. My heart aches as I imagine what it was like for her to be so alive mentally but trapped in a body that would no longer do what she wanted it to.

I recently read an article titled “Managing Stress As A College Student”. Here is a part that reminds me of Grandma Annie (and me:)

Dr. Selye suggests that some people have a "race horse" life-style and seem to thrive on intense activity while others prefer a "turtle" life-style and function best when their activity level is not intense. Trying to adopt a "turtle" life-style when we really prefer a "race horse" life-style, or vice-a-versa, can be stressful. An example of this concept was illustrated when a medical doctor told a "race horse" patient, who had just been diagnosed as having high blood pressure, to go home and take it easy. He told her to slow down and do more things like reading and handiwork. She tried this program for two weeks and told the doctor she was going crazy. The change from the "race horse" to the "turtle" life-style actually increased, rather than decreased, her blood pressure. After talking with the doctor, she adopted a moderate "race horse" level and consequently reduced her blood pressure as well as her stressful feelings.

Understanding this “racehorse” part of my personality and recognizing it in my Grandma, I can’t even begin to imagine how frustrating it must have been for her to lose her independence. Actually, I should rephrase that, I CAN imagine - it must have been a nightmare. This strong-willing, dynamic woman, was now at the mercy of a withering body. She spent most of her day in her reclining chair in the front room. Each year, her body curled in more and more on itself until she watched the world sideways. She needed help walking, dressing, eating, and with personal hygiene. Grandpa would process most of her food so it resembled the texture of baby food.  I thought it was wonderful that Grandpa arranged for a friend to come in every week and do Grandma’s hair. She would set it in rollers and Grandma would sit under a big old fashioned hair dryer like in the beauty salons. I’m sure this helped Grandma maintain some joy, pride and dignity. After all, in her fireball days, she had owned her own salon, Annie’s Hair Salon in Pleasant Grove. But now, the highlight of the day was when the Price is Right came on. OR whenever family or friends would visit. Then she really lit up with love and pride.

In 1994, I had the privilege to move in to my grandparent’s basement apartment while I attended Brigham Young University. I continued to live there after I was married and even while I had my first children. So, I became an extra caretaker to Grandma Annie in her final years. For a few years, I would spend mornings sitting with Grandma while Grandpa spent some time running errands or serving in the Provo Temple. Some of these mornings were rough because I had my own little baby (or two) who needed feeding, changing, and attention, but Grandma also needed all of the same help. And sometimes, none of them were very cooperative. Even though she was weak, sometimes she’d grow impatient and try to stand and get to the bathroom on her own with her walker - which was very dangerous! So, I’d juggle the baby and toddler and try to make sure that they would be safe while I went to help Grandma in the bathroom. My life was filled with a lot of other people’s bodily fluids at that time. And as disgusting as that is, there is a certain level of divine privilege that you feel when you are entrusted to meet the needs of a another human. And there was a quiet, deeply humbling dignity expressed by that beautiful woman as she submitted to the help that she needed. I was dealing with life and death in all of it’s messiness side by side. And I still feel the sweet fatigue and love from that sacred job. The life-guarding service we give to infants and aging loved ones bonds you to them in unbreakable ways. And I felt that coming in to this world and going out had many similarities. We often return to a helpless state where we depend on someone for our every need. Patience and tender care are required from our loved ones at the beginning and the end of our lives.

In early December 1998 we knew Annie was dying. And as unusual as it sounds, waiting for her to pass felt almost exactly the same as being in labor. Perhaps it was because I had so recently given birth that I recognized the similarities. I’m so glad that my little Anna Lynn got to spend the first eight months of her life here on earth with the angel she was named after. In her final hours, Annie became unresponsive and her breathing was deep and rattled. We waited with her all day, knowing we wouldn’t have her much longer. As night came, Grandpa sent us downstairs to sleep. When we woke up the next morning she had peacefully passed. Even though her body was still in that old reclining chair, the room felt empty. Her beautiful, bright and strong spirit was no longer with us. Birth and death are holy experiences. The world is changed in a moment. When a baby is born, there is suddenly LIFE! Loud, messy, chaotic LIFE! But here on earth, when someone dies, it is painfully quiet. In that moment, and forever after when you wish you could visit or call and hear their voice again, it is quiet. But in birth and death, the world is changed forever in a moment. But as I believe in life after death, I like to imagine that perhaps as those sweet souls pass out of our earthly view, their entrance to the next world if full of LIFE! Sweet, joyful reunions that are loud and chaotic with heavenly tears.

One thing I have learned from my Grandma Annie, and my Grandmother Irene and all of the wonderful people I have known who happen to be older than me, is that the spirit doesn’t really get old. When I was 18 and my Grandmother Irene was 67, she told me that she still felt like an 18-year-old on the inside. That surprised me then, but I am wiser (and closer to 67) now. Sometimes we count out our “senior” friends and don’t include them in activities when what they need most is to keep living with us. Of course it’s nice to take cookies to an elderly neighbor, but you know what’s even better - invite that older friend over to your house to make cookies WITH you. When you start talking to our older friends, family and neighbors you realize they have a vast world of knowledge and experience that is still very much alive in their minds. Their bodies might not be as spry as they used to be, but they have so much to offer the world. Unfortunately, many seniors experience terrible loneliness and depression. I urge us all to make more time to include these members of our community into our daily lives. Find out what profession or travels or hobbies your senior friends enjoyed when they were younger and ask them to teach you and your children about it. You will do something thinking you are helping and serving an elderly person, but you will realize they are actually giving you way more than you have given. 

Life is precious, whether it is found in a 7-pound, soft and warm body that smells like baby shampoo, or when it is found in a wrinkled, twisted body that smells like (well, we won’t go there…) Life is precious. So Happy Birthday Grandma Annie! I love you. You were named for your two grandmas: Annie Nichols and Annie Jones. My mother, daughter and I all carry you with us in our names: Mary Anne, Genevieve Anne, and Anna Lynn. I am so humbled to be a part of this strong chain of women who are full of life and love. I know there is celebrating on both sides of the veil today.

Today I will wear my Silver Bells bracelet and sing Christmas carols and wear red to honor and remember you. And I will cherish the people around me and look for their value and seek their contributions no matter how old or young they are. We all have something to give. And sometimes, our greatest gift can be letting others serve us. Thank you for giving me that gift as a young mother. As hard as it must have been for you to let me help you, it was a gift I will always cherish. And I know that you are continuing to serve our family as you watch over us from Heaven. We all love you and can’t wait to laugh and sing with you again. 

Sing Louder 🎵

I am in a new, exciting phase of life. I am so excited to announce that I have officially been accepted back into Brigham Young University and will be finally completing my Bachelor’s Degree over the next few years. 🎓 For one of my first assignments, I had to write a brief autobiography.  The teacher requested a more creative approach, so I wrote a litle bit about how music and theater have influenced my life and I wanted to share it here.

Sing Louder
    Magic. My first grade teacher created magic. Twenty first-graders were crammed in the wings of our cafetorium theater. It was dark and cluttered with discarded set pieces and old equipment. She pointed to the curtain and whispered to us that as soon as we stepped out on stage, we were supposed to pretend that we were in a new world - a fantastic, beautiful place that we had never seen before. She wanted to see it on our faces. And when I took those first steps on to the stage, I could feel it in my heart. I was in that new, amazing world where I had never been before. And I would never want to leave it.
But soon I really was in a new world - my family moved from Utah to California mid-school year and I felt lost and alone. I was drawn to music and theater and stories. I wrote scripts for my stuffed animals. I loved my fourth grade teacher who played the guitar and sang to us. She introduced me to King Arthur and we put on a play. I loved the excuse to pretend and dress up and share a story with our audience. The next year I had a solo in HMS Pinafore. But I was never the lead in anything. I was very shy. I took chorus in 8th grade and one day the girl sitting next to me whispered, “You have a pretty voice. You should sing louder.” I was shocked. Me? Really? Well maybe I would give it a try. Afterall, it gave me so much joy.
    The next year I joined our very small high school choir. There were only about 9-12 of us at at time. And a few of those participants were only there because their guidance counselor forced them in to it. Maybe due to the small numbers, more than my talent, I was given a solo at the all-school assembly: a duet with a senior boy, “All I Ask Of You” from Phantom of the Opera. Wow! What a thrill. I felt a connection to the audience as I was singing and the feedback I received from friends and strangers after the performance gave me so much confidence and joy. The magic was there again in a whole new world on that stage. And I was finding my voice. Literally.
    Life brought some difficult challenges, but my voice and my piano were always there when I got home from school. I could play and sing as loud and as angry as I needed to. Or I could cry and sing and feel connected to the musicians who had created those notes and words on the page - they knew how I felt. Or I could ring out happy sounds and celebrate life. Music and theater connected me to the world around me. And then my world changed again and my heart broke with real tragedy. I needed a way out and an audition at the Los Angeles County High School for the Arts brought me to a new school, an hour’s commute away on the LA freeways, and a world away from my troubles. My heart was healed. The magic continued. And my confidence increased that I could do hard things.
    When I returned to my home high school for my senior year I filled it with as much magic as I could. I played piano for the jazz band, sang in the choir, acted in the plays and learned how to be a stage manager. And at the end of the final musical, it was me in the spotlight, sharing my heart with everyone in that theater - hoping to share the magic I felt.
    I took a long break from performance in order to raise six amazing children. But guess what? They loved the magic too. And now I spend many hours each year teaching children and teens to sing and to act. Music and theater gave me a way to understand myself and connect to the world around me and now I get to share that. I create worlds with fabric and paint and lights and sounds. I help to build individuals who overcome fears and develop talents. I build teams who depend on each other and make magic. I am an artist. And the stage is my canvas. The magic continues and lives are changed.

Me as Sally Bowles in "Cabaret" 1992, Mira Costa High School

Long live the Bard! 🎭

This weekend was our third year competing at the Utah Shakespeare Festival/Southern Utah University High School Competition. The competition weekend is so exciting - 3400 youth descended on the campus of Southern Utah University. They traveled from Utah, Idaho, Nevada, Arizona, Colorado, California, Wisconsin, the Virgin Islands (I think I heard all of these mentioned, not sure if there are even more…) The atmosphere is electric. As you move through campus, there are teens walking everywhere in costumes ranging from traditional Renaissance to fascinating modern creations. Shakespeare scenes are being rehearsed on the grass. I love to walk by and try to recognize which play and scene they are rehearsing. It is an inspiring atmosphere. But it is also a game.

The first year we came not knowing what to expect and were caught like startled deer in the headlights. Our scores were all in the lower fourth of our division. And let me tell you about our division! Wow! Intimidating. In general, the divisions are according to the size of your school. The largest high schools compete against each other, the next largest against each other and so it goes according to size, or age - middles schools in the same division, charter schools in the same division. But we are a small non-profit and our team is a Shakespeare program for homeschoolers. There are other homeschool groups in our division, but we are also grouped with other teams who don’t fall into a traditional school category: the small professional conservatories - in particular the University of Utah Youth Conservatory, and a group from Wisconsin called First Stage: Young Company. They are impressive. They are the big guns. They command attention and they are fantastic! But it is quite intimidating to go up against them. From what I can tell from my online stalking they have far greater resources of time, money and talent; they have their own dedicated rehearsal spaces, they demand a lot more rehearsal time, and they are either audition only and/or very high monthly tuition which is a kind of weeding out process in and of itself. Those young actors are very dedicated, talented and most likely on a professional track. There is a third group that I don’t know too much about, Logan Youth Shakespeare, but they have been exceptional every time I’ve seen them. And again, from my thorough online stalking process, it looks like U of U, First Stage, and Logan Youth basically take turns winning our Essex division each year, and just play musical chairs as they rotate through 1st, 2nd and 3rd places.

Our second year, we knew a little better what to expect. Each school brings a basic comp team of 3 monologues, 2 duo/trio scenes, and one ensemble piece with 4+ actors. I knew that the first year, of course, but one thing I learned from our first year was that the judges were NOT looking for what they termed, “a museum piece.” They wanted to see your fresh, new interpretation of Shakespeare. So, our second year for our ensemble piece we prepared a compilation titled “All the World’s a Stage.” We costumed each character as an archetypal high school student: the jock, the student body president, the emo/goth, the pretty popular girl, the smart girl, the bullies and the victim. We pieced together scenes and monologues to try to show that Shakespeare’s words were still timely and applicable to these youth. One of the things I loved most about this scene was that my own teenage daughters helped me to conceptualize and compile it. The ideas and the visuals were powerful. But our little acting troupe had a mix of very powerful actors and some who were just getting their feet wet. So, even though our concept was strong, our execution was sometimes shaky. But I loved every minute of working with these kids and helping them to understand the text and create their characters. We put in some fun text about unrequited love, of course - what high school student doesn’t relate to that? We touched on bullying. And we had one particularly powerful moment on stage when the Student Body President character has just rallied everyone for the big football game - using a battle speech from Henry V and having a little fun with a poster for the imaginary St. George “Tigers,” playing on the name of the neighboring city and the text of the monologue. At the end of the speech they are all circled together on stage left and give a big cheer. The audience usually laughed and then we put them in hard freeze, while isolated, on the opposite side of the stage, our emo/goth character took off her headphones and began the Hamlet “To be or not to be” monologue. It was a chills up your back moment. I was incredibly proud when we took fourth place for this ensemble piece, right after First Stage, Logan Youth, and University of Utah. For us, fourth place was a WIN!!! And the First Stage coach even came up to us after to compliment our piece. It was a powerful and bonding scene for us as a team and it also gave us a great boost of confidence. We also moved up in the overall Sweepstakes rankings to 7th place.

So, let’s get to this weekend. Actually, let’s back up just a pinch first… As a coach, I am always trying to improve my own skills. I attended a Directing Shakespeare Camp this summer hosted by the Utah Shakespeare Festival. Jan and Andy Hunsaker (or “Jandy” as we lovingly called them) were phenomenal and very encouraging to all of the teachers who attended. We also got to do workshops with actors from the festival. Anyway, I learned a lot of skills that I took back to our rehearsals this year.

We took a team again of three monologues, two duo/trio scenes, our ensemble scene AND we ventured into the music competition this year with a Minstrel category piece. I am very proud of our team and the hard work that they put into their pieces this year. Our ensemble scene was King Lear, Act 1, Scene 1. But I added a little intro and a tableau to end the piece. I also added two characters that I called the Fates. They were other-worldly, beautiful representations of the voices we hear in our heads. They flowed across the stage with billowing skirts and long hair. They whispered into the ears of certain characters at crucial junctions. After all, the very essence of a tragedy is that one pivotal moment, that one decision that inevitably leads to the destructive consequences. I wanted the Fates to represent the mad voices that King Lear must have heard in his head, but also the tempting influences of power, money, lust. We costumed the characters to reflect their mental states - Lear and the fates were red and black, reflecting Lear’s descent to madness. Goneril, Regan, their husbands and Burgundy were gray to show they were under the influence of the Fates evil purposes. But Cordelia, Kent and the King of France were dressed in white and did not entertain the Fates whisperings. As we rehearsed, we talked about the extremes represented in King Lear, but also likened the “voices in our heads” to the feelings that we all have sometimes - that we aren’t good enough, or to the temptations to do things we know will hurt us in the end. We have a choice to listen to those voices or not. We can make positive choices no matter what the voices in our heads or the world around us tells us. I always want my team to be able to take away life lessons from the beauty of Shakespeare’s words and themes. Lear makes a bad choice, and then doubles down on it. Perhaps we can learn to be more humble and to trust those around us who really care for us.

Our competition slot was Saturday morning about 11am. We rehearsed, warmed up, and prayed before and I think everyone felt as ready as they could - despite nerves and excitement. And the wind! Which actually, made our Fates skirts and hair billow out with a great dramatic flair! Nice touch, Mother Nature. Our actors felt good about their performance. We could hear them - which is always a challenge in the outside Adams Theater. And I was so proud of them. The feedback from the judges was very positive and rewarding. I was so happy that they liked my edits and artistic choices. They praised our ensemble for being very engaged even when they didn’t have lines. They could tell that they were listening and reacting. They praised our actors for their honesty. They liked our blocking and color choices. We were all relieved and deeply satisfied with a job well done.

But of course, it wasn’t over yet…The award ceremony was Saturday night. We gathered in the auditorium theater. Fred Adams, the founder of the Utah Shakespeare Festival announced the winners. Third, Second, and First prizes were awarded in monologues and duo/trio categories and guess who filled those rankings - First Stage, U of U, and Logan Youth. And they deserved it, of course! Their teams are strong!

Then it was time to announce the ensemble winners. My goal this year was to just hold onto a solid fourth place after these amazing companies. For me, like last year’s fourth place, that would have been a win. My dream, my stretch goal, was to knock any of them out of the top three and take third place. That would have been amazing! So, Fred Adams announced third place: First Stage! Then second place: University of Utah! Now, at this point, my team tells me that they all gave up hope. They were sure Logan had won. But I, on the other hand, had seen Logan’s ensemble piece and even though it was fantastic, in my heart, I really felt like we had done better this year and I suddenly felt a very real possibility that the next name Fred called could be ours. My heart started pounding out of my chest. I couldn't wait to just get the next few moments over with and find out the results! But, Fred chose that moment to pause and say something like, “I just want to take a moment and comment on the tremendous growth that has taken place over the past few years in this division. It is truly incredible to see how this group has grown.” Etc, etc…. To my thumping heart, it seemed like he was talking forever, but I’m sure it was just a few extra seconds in reality. And then suddenly, he was announcing “First Place Ensemble, Essex Division: Sweet Harmony!” And the rest was crazy, loud screams of joy and all of us jumping up and hugging and screaming some more! It was thrilling! It was exhilarating! It was a Disney movie moment of the rag tag team that no one expected to win, coming from behind and taking the trophy! I know this is all a game - a very subjective and artistic game. And who knows what will happen next year. But, for now, we have arrived. We WON!!!!! And I will just relish that fun fact and know that we can compete with the big boys.


In fact, the U of U coach asked me in passing, “Which scene did you do? I didn’t get to see all of them.” And I thought - you didn’t see us this year, but you’ll be watching NEXT year! Nothing wrong with a little friendly competition, right? And truly, these teams are all so talented and innovative. It is a privilege to be in the same division and have them push us to push ourselves.

We also moved up in our overall rankings to fourth place Sweepstakes. I’m just so proud of our amazing team and I love getting a chance to coach them and stretch my creative muscles in a genre I am passionate about. All in all, a deeply satisfying and memorable weekend! Long live the Bard!
Ps You can watch our scene here: King Lear 1:1

The Beginning of the Middle

I like to think.  I like to think about thinking. And I like to create.  This blog will be a place to mold and share my thoughts and reflections on life, aging, and creativity.

Today I turned 44 years old.  What a beautiful number.  Nice and round; even and balanced.  A lot like me: I'm generally nice; Definitely round; And trying to be balanced.  There are so many things I love to do but I never have quite enough time or energy to do them all.  That's normal, of course.  But as I keep counting those birthday candles, sometimes I feel afraid that I am running out of time! I want to do as much as I possibly can.  I want to think, write, create, share, sing, dance, produce, act.  This is how I connect to the world around me.  I am an artist.  But I am also an organizer.  I am a wife and the mother of six children.  And above all else, I am a daughter of God.  I love my life.  It has been amazing so far.  But things are changing as my children age.  I find myself in an exciting position to set new goals and dreams.  Turns out life isn't over at 40 - it's just "the beginning of the middle" - as my 17-year-old-daughter tells me.  I want to keep this blog as a record and a reflection on these new creative adventures.

When I was in elementary school, I did a biography report on Grandma Moses. Have you ever heard of her?  She was an amazing woman!  She became a famous American Folk Artist.  Her paintings have now sold for over a million dollars. But she didn't even start painting until she was 78!  I was fascinated to learn about her when I was a young girl. I was shocked that old people could accomplish so much. (78 doesn't seem quite so old anymore...) Since then, she has always occupied a special place in my mind as I reflect about aging and creativity.  We each have so much to offer.  But we doubt that truth.  We talk ourselves out of change and risk.  We think our turn has passed.  We're scared of what other people will think if we try.  But we have something to say, to do, to create, to share!  And even if no one else in the world appreciates our artistic contributions, WE benefit from the creative process.

I will always view my most important creative work as being a mom - and I can't wait to be a grandma someday!  But this new phase of life is so interesting and challenging. I find myself driven to pick up older dreams and passions that had been put on hold for awhile.  If you are reading this, I hope you will share your thoughts, goals and adventures too. What do you love to do?  Do it!  Don't let fear stop you from living. I'm learning that we don't have to know the end before we get started.  Just take a chance! Our life story is being written every day one way or the other.  Let's actively, purposefully and intentionally create our story.