Post-Performance Depression

 I'm not prone to "the blues" or depression, but I wasn't expecting the massive crash I experienced after completing the performances of A Midsummer Night's Dream. 

As part of my job I traveled internationally, taught classes, and spoke in front of groups of people. Sometimes I was a bit nervous in anticipation of new experiences, but nothing like the run-up to performing in a ballet. In the weeks before the performances, it was like there was a background static, and every day it got louder. By the dress rehearsal I felt constantly keyed up.

I'd scheduled an appointment with my massage therapist for the day before dress rehearsal. Since I'm focused on relaxing tight muscles, it's pretty normal for me to nod off for bits, especially while my therapist works on my lower legs. That didn't happen this time. Although I'm sure there was therapeutic benefit, when the session was over I mostly felt sore.

Different people have different reactions before a performance. The male lead dancer paced backstage from wing to wing with palpable intensity. The three adult women who made up the remainder of the supporting cast sat in a cold concrete hallway backstage playing on their phones or doing tarot card readings, seemingly unaffected by the tension others felt.

I felt marginally better after the dress rehearsal, but standing on stage, behind a closed curtain, listening to the narration introduce Act Two, it reached a peak. The audience quieted and the lights on stage went out. The fan in the fog machine blew cold air against my legs, making me shiver. Eventually the curtain opened and the audience joined me in the darkness. After what seemed like an eternity the stage lights brightened and I waited for the start of the music that would be my cue. Another eternity later the music started.

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After the final performance on Sunday the bulk of the professional cast met at a nearby sports bar for drinks and dinner. The tension was gone, and there was lots of light-hearted conversation. Some of the cast had taken cellphone photos from the wings when they weren't otherwise occupied, and their phones were passed around for others to enjoy.

At first I was worried that I would feel like an intruder, as the pros had mostly rehearsed separately from the student and supporting casts, but that didn't happen. Everyone understood that this was a new experience for me (well, new since 40 years), and some made an effort to include me. The artistic director, who had danced "Bottom" as part of the "theatre troupe", asked if I was going to audition in September for their production of The Nutcracker. By the end of the evening I was pretty sure I would.

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I spent most of Monday catching up on all the things I'd ignored for the previous week. I washed the pile of stinky dance gear and congratulated myself on my decision to take the week off (i.e. no ballet classes). Monday evening, though, I found myself wishing there was one more performance. I fretted over the mistake I made in Sunday's performance, even though no one -- neither professional nor supporting cast -- had mentioned it. Would this count against me in an audition for Nutcracker?

Mid-day Tuesday I recognized this sudden depressive state as what those of us who have been staff on a convention call "Con Drop". You spend weeks in preparation, days frantically dealing with the actuality, and then.... nothing. It's over. Done. Fini.

Tuesday evening I realized I needed to go back to class.

Wednesday just before noon I walked into my regular ballet school. Melissa, the instructor for this class, is also the managing director of the ballet company that put on Midsummer. She was surprised to see me, as I'd made it clear I was taking the week off, but she immediately understood what I was feeling. I'm sure the stuff she'd been dealing with putting on the show was broader than my performance jitters, and she confided she still has a nervous twitch in one of her eyes. 

It was good to be back in a familiar class, with students I know. This was a comfortable environment, where mistakes were expected and inconsequential. Some of the students are better than me and some aren't, but there isn't the contrast with a dozen professionals. By the end of class I was feeling more like my normal self.

At the same time I'd scheduled my pre-show appointment with my massage therapist I'd scheduled one for the Thursday after. Despite a good night sleep the night before, I have no recollection of about a third to maybe half of this session, far more than usual. I caught myself dreaming I was on stage at least once, and had to consciously suppress the rehearsed movements. I know I woke up with a snort at least once, and I hope I wasn't snoring all that time. I always feel cheated by missing the sensations of the bodywork when I nod off during one of these sessions. My therapist points out that while I may be missing it, my body is not. This time I left feeling much more relaxed.

I'm taking this weekend off; I have stuff I want to do. I'd go back Monday but the school is closed for the US holiday. I didn't want to go a full week without class so I went today. I really like the corrections this instructor gives. She apologized today for "nit-picking" me. After class I explained about the supporting cast gig, and encouraged her to nit-pick all she wanted. I'll see how smart this was in the coming weeks.