Hello, 2019! // Let's talk BURNOUT

Well, well, well... it appears that 2017 was the "Year of the Blog" and 2018 was ghosted.

It seems I have some catching up to do.

When I finished my tour in Pennsylvania, I packed my things, visited my family, and headed west on a solo trip to start fresh in California. I didn't know what was waiting for me out there (besides a new job), but that great state greeted me with open arms.

I arrived solo in L.A. via airplane on November 22nd, where I took a shuttle bus up the central coast to Oceano. (SUCH a beautiful drive; highly recommended.) I was picked up in Santa Maria by my boss, who was friendly, chatty, and accommodating with getting me settled in. Later, I met the current stage manager and my boss for dinner that night and we got to know one another and talk theatre.

Soon enough, I was thrust into the throes of the theatre life once again - and there was definitely a learning curve! This place had been a well-oiled machine under the soon-to-be-former stage manager, but it had its own quirks and charm different from the hustle-bustle east coast theatres. But don't get me wrong - there was still plenty of hustling to do. Once you opened the doors for show time... it turned into a biiiiiit of a madhouse. In a fun way :)

The Melodrama was like nothing else I'd ever experienced. (And they told me that was what to expect!) It was quaint, older, and I found out quickly that each person on staff wears many hats.

The building itself, was a former drugstore/pharmacy back in the day, so there's really only one level - and a ship ladder to the booth above the dressing room/kitchen and bar. The house can get pretty tight for the patrons, but that's how they like it - cozy!

The bar lines pre-show and during the two intermissions would spill into the theatre; the bar was always overflowing with friendly locals (and sometimes tourists and other not-so-locals) who didn't mind standing on top of one another while they got another round of snacks.

Anywho - when I finally stepped in to the role of Resident Production Stage Manager, I felt ready... but I feared that some of the staff was not. It was a tough go for a few weeks, even months, while I was turning over the position. I had a set way I liked to do paperwork, a shyer demeanor, and I was used to boundaries from other staff positions that had grown accustomed to a lot of things overlapping. This was no one's fault, it was just a change of guard, which can always be jarring for a bit.

Eventually, we all grew closer. But with that closeness, I began to have other boundary issues... the work and home life boundary.

As soon as March rolled around, I began to enter the double days - opening the theatre at 9:30/10am to run rehearsal until 4pm, with the cast going home for a brief 2-hour break while I usually stayed at the theatre prepping for the evening production... and not finally leaving again until we locked the doors around 10pm.

I know what you're thinking.

"Boo hoo! That's theatre! We GET to work 12 hour days - you should feel lucky you have a job."

Trust me, I was grateful. But I was also doing it mostly alone. "It" being: stage manage, of course (which, in case you don't know, the paperwork entailed in this position alone is enough to drive even the most organized person bananas) but also throw on top duties as an usher/interim house manager, props master, light board operator, sound board operator, spotlight operator, and all pre-show & intermission pre-sets (with the help of one actor, if I got lucky - Sydni, you're a GODSEND). It's just the way things were done there.

This was the first-ever Stage Management job where I didn't have an Assistant Stage Manager - or any other kind of crew during show time. And, for the non-theatre savvy, an SM almost always has an ASM, unless it's a pretty small show/theatre.

Very rarely will one person wear that many hats all at once, however. In the end, it was the dreaded "B" word that begin to take over my life...

Burnout.

I think it was my boss at the time who actually warned me that there was going to be the possibility of burnout with this job. He was super conscious of it, and always doing everything he could to mitigate it, from bringing me Starbucks to providing lunch or dinner for the production team meetings to helping me with backstage tasks if I started to feel beat. Hell of a guy.

But it was the nature of the beast... one 12 hour day after another was just cutting into my home life, where I wanted to be with my best friend, my partner. Where I wanted to have some alone time. Where I wanted to just... sleep.

Work and sleep should've been a package deal, but once burnout hit me, sleep was not an option. I had to start taking melatonin to fall asleep, because all I could think about was work. I was bringing work home with me every. single. night.

This is not a healthy thing.

At the time, I don't think I even knew it was burnout. It just started as being "overwhelmed". Then that turned into "irritable". Which turned into "sorely depressed". Which turned into "numbness".

These are your warning signs for burnout.

The safest thing for me to do was to give my resignation. Which, technically, was right up on the six month contract I was already in, but before I came out it was intended that if I liked the job, I was welcome to stay for as long as I wanted (or that they wanted me).

So, I resigned without renewing my contract.

BUT.

Being the professional I aim to try to be, I gave a six week notice instead of your average two week notice. I knew I had to finish the current show, and I didn't want this company to feel like they had to scramble to replace me. So I had to tell my boss (who was more than understanding) that I could work no more than 8 hours per day, due to needing to have time to mentally recover some, and look for another employer.

I still struggled coming to work every day and feeling like I wasn't able to keep up with myself at the pace I was used to. I felt like a slug. I never smiled, or cracked a joke, or spoke to anyone, let alone took anyone up on the invites to grab a drink or watch a movie at the cast house. I had successfully isolated myself. And I was miserable.

Gettin' kinda dark here - sorry!

I'm not sure how to turn this story around, other than... eventually, I slipped away.

I slept, a lot. I remained friends with the staff and some actors, even getting myself out there to chat with the new cast members I didn't work with. I started to force myself to be human again, and sometimes, it worked.

I thought I needed a break from theatre, but wouldn't you know it? A dream opportunity came shortly after the Melodrama: a chance to act in a theatre 30 minutes from my hometown.

But... I think that's the beginning of the next blog post.

I hope my fellow theatre folks are taking care of themselves. I hope you're eating right, sleeping enough, interacting with friends, yet taking some time for yourself, and hustling as hard as you can - without hitting a wall. On the flip side: Take a break, if you need to. You have all the time in the world to bounce back.

And for everyone else, maybe this gives you some insights into how rigorous this lifestyle can be, even when it's a wonderful opportunity like no other.

If you're still curious as to why I left California, you can read more about it on my food and travel blog, here.

Until next time...!

Oh, and happy audition season!