Stand-up

Staring at a black curtain, I bounced on my toes. I was quietly but audibly, reciting my lines. I heard the cue. I wiped my forehead for the third time in as many minutes. “This next comic has so many kids, he will do anything to get out of the house. Please welcome Richard Ingram.”

As the opener was still introducing me, I pushed the curtain aside and walked on stage. She was fantastic, and she’d just made the audience laugh a lot. Now, I was just getting stares. It was so quiet. I started my opening line. The room shifted from quiet to a vacuum of silence. I regretted everything. I wanted to leave. I got to my first punchline, and the waters of the audience's calmness broke as they erupted with laughs.

My oldest is interested in being a comic and does not share my stage fright. He wasn’t old enough to enroll alone, so we signed up for Stand-up comedy classes. We spent six weeks learning to write, pitch, and workshop jokes. The ultimate effort of the course was a live performance of our own material in front of real human beings. The show went amazing, and my son murdered, as they say in the comedy business.

I spent weeks tortured with anxiety from pushing outside my comfort zone. I spent days trying to figure out how to artfully dodge this finale of torture. I purposefully converted that anxiety to become more prepared. I rehearsed my material a hundred times—in the shower, on my commute, during boring conference calls. I prepared for many alternative outcomes to help ease my brain’s disaster planning. It all paid off. I got to experience the rush of adrenaline that accompanies doing something hard. I watched my classmates’ emotional arc through the night. Most enjoyable was the last-minute pep talk to my son and peek through the curtains as he crushed his first showcase.

Sometimes, I let the fear of something difficult, scary, or new get in the way of stepping outside my comfort zone. I would have missed out on a tremendously proud moment of growth in me and my teenage child. There are so many things in my life I have missed out on because I said I can’t do something. Stages of my life, I would have said I can’t write my own stand-up comedy routine. I definitely would have said I can’t do a stand-up comedy routine in front of an audience. I can, and I did. Doing hard things builds emotional, physical, and mental muscles.

Am I my own obstacle in trying something new? Do I let what I think I am capable of get in the way of what I am actually capable of? Will I go try something new, something that pushes me just enough?

Be curious, be kind, be whole, do good things.