At the end of February I slipped on the floor of my Chicago studio. The impact of the fall forced my shoulder out of its socket and I instantly went into shock.
I stood up, cradling the weight of my right arm with my left, sat down and finished the remaining 60 seconds of my virtual show. None of the viewers knew anything had happened. Then I ended the zoom call and turned off the camera before my wife took me to the emergency room.
It took the doctors nearly three hours to reset my shoulder. It was the worst pain I’ve ever experienced in my life, including the other dislocation I had at the end of 2019.
For much of the past year I’d been ignoring my growing depression. The monotony of lockdown had crept up on me, like a dark storm cloud rolling over the sea of my psyche. I’d been so busy filling the hours with blog posts, movies, Zoom shows, and take-out meals that I hadn’t even realized how down I was.
Then my shoulder popped out of its socket and I finally took notice. I was indescribably, unbearably sad, but only realized it for the first time as we headed home from the E.R.
I had reached a breaking point — so I took a much needed break.
I stopped posting to my blog or sending newsletters. I stopped reading the news every day and stressing over current events. And I stopped putting pressure on myself to improve at something every day during a cataclysmic, once-in-a-lifetime, global pandemic.
Sometimes depression likes to hide in the midst of your daily to-do list.
I decided I would only focus on one thing: getting better.
In April I had Latarjet surgery. A week later the X-Rays showed two screws in my right shoulder.
“Whoa. How long are those?” I asked the nurse.
“About 40 millimeters,” she told me.
“I went to public school so I’m going to need that in inches,” I said, and the whole room of nurses died laughing.
Sometimes depression likes to disguise itself as a stand-up comic.
I was in a sling for three months. I couldn’t even hold a cup of coffee or write in a notebook. But two weeks later I did a one-armed Zoom show for an audience overseas. (If there’s anything I learned over the past year, it’s that no matter what happens you have to embrace the moment and find a way to make it work.)
Rehab started slow, with ball squeezes or gentle curls of my right arm. Gradually I could use a towel to slide my arm along a countertop or pour my morning brew, but the pain was intense and my crushed dreams of a productive summer led to a full on mental breakdown. I started sleeping all day, only leaving the apartment to go to physical therapy or do a show at the studio.
Sometimes depression likes to wake you up at 4 in the morning then tuck you in again before lunch.
The worst part of lockdown was being trapped with my thoughts 24/7. And, confined to my bed in a sling, I found myself rethinking things for the thousandth time.
For the past several years I’d started to grow tired of my job. I love performing, but the grind of constant travel had really started to get to me. And it felt as if my hard work might not be paying off in the way I’d hoped it might.
In my early twenties it was exciting but spending half a day traveling to a half-full room in your thirties really starts to wear you down.
Plus, my industry can be petty and jealous and stupid and…so much more.
“But if I quit my job will people call me a quitter? Will I be a failure?” I asked myself. “After all, you’ve been telling everyone this is what you wanted to do since you were 5 freaking years old…”
These were the type of thoughts that polluted my mind for months on end last year. I couldn’t stop them.
I probably should have seen someone but I never got around to scheduling an appointment. I was too busy with work and physical therapy. Luckily, the days rolled on and my shoulder slowly got better.
In early July my surgeon told me I could do for light jogs if I wanted to. Thanks to feet problems and dislocation, I hadn’t run in well over a year. But I gave it a shot.
Two and a half slow miles later and my mind was clear. I went out again a few days later. Then again. And again. And again.
And I started to feel better.
Sometimes depression gets left in the dust at the starting line.
I needed to do something with my time that wasn’t career related and wasn’t time spent staring at a screen. It could have been walking or biking (if I was able) but running did the trick. I’m not quite back to 100% but I’m getting there.
And so is the shoulder. Today I lifted some weights for the first time and “raised the roof” above my head. I can put dishes away in the highest cabinets and lift my suitcases out of the car. Maybe I’ll start playing tennis again.
I’m not changing careers at the moment but maybe I’ll do something else alongside it. Who knows? For now, it’s been nice to get back on the road over the past month and do some shows for actual living, breathing (well, maybe not breathing) humans in the same room. I love the puzzle of putting a new show together so that’s been the focus of my creativity lately.
It seems to me that a lot of people have a lot to say about nothing these days. So back in February, I told myself that I would only start posting again when I had actually had something to say. In the past month I’ve done a dozen gigs around the country, logged a bunch of miles, and started to finally feel like myself again. And I’ve been collecting more stories from the road. I can’t wait to share them with you.