- I signed up for an improv class to check off an item on my bucket list after my husband died.
- I didn't realize the experience would help me navigate my grief and move through my loss.
When I signed up for an improv class with Second City, I thought I was simply checking off an item on my bucket list. I've always found improv fun to watch, so I thought it'd be fun to do as well. I was right. My instructor, Janet Davidson, led our class of 12 through seven weeks of scene-building exercises over Zoom that challenged our creativity.
The course was a unique and fulfilling experience. What I didn't expect, though, was that the performance art would help me navigate the grief and anxiety I'd been experiencing since my husband, David, died of pancreatic cancer earlier this year.
"At its core, improv is all about expanding our tolerance for uncertainty and building story in a way that is brave, unknowing, and vulnerable," Rachel Rusch, a pediatric-palliative-care social worker, educator, and researcher at Children's Hospital Los Angeles, said.
Davidson agreed.
"Improv is a place where you can make stuff up and there are no huge consequences," she said. "It's a form of play, which also relieves anxiety."
In addition to getting some welcome comic relief, I gleaned many positive messages from improv's principles.
Building on the past instead of dismissing it is helpful
Improv is perhaps best known for its "yes, and" foundation, a rule that encourages you to accept the contribution of others. In one of our first exercises, my class built a scene by each of us adding a sentence at a time using "yes, and" to connect them. Next, we tried the same exercise with "yes, but."
I quickly discovered that the exercise during which we used the word "but" felt dismissive and negative. It required us to change course and negate what the previous person had said, leaving their thought behind. On the other hand, when we used the word "and," it felt inclusive and supportive. The word "and" acknowledges the past and builds upon it, instead of making it irrelevant.
Leaning on "yes, and" in my personal life is helping me tackle my fears, without dismissing them. For example, I tell myself: "Yes, you are feeling anxious about the future, and you're someone who's always figured things out." With both feelings validated, I'm better able to move forward.
"'Yes, and-ing' can be a life philosophy if you are in a position where you're in survival mode," Davidson said.
I've also learned that uncertainty can be beautiful
Another lesson from the class is that good things can happen if you're willing to go where life takes you. In another exercise, we split into pairs and created a scene with each person adding one word at a time. Often, I thought I had teed up my partner for a great storyline, only to have them add something I hadn't expected. I had to quickly pivot to continue the narrative.
"This is called 'surrendering,' and it's being able to change direction even when you thought a scene was going one way," Davidson said. "When it's your turn, you can try to bring it back to where you wanted to go, but it becomes harder."
When your spouse dies, you lose your vision of the future. Practicing surrendering in the class has helped me let go of what I thought my life would be. I could try clinging to the past, but it would make it more difficult to heal.
It would also be limiting. Going with an unexpected storyline can deliver something new and different.
"Maybe that story eventually comes back around to the initial story in a way you would never would have imagined, something really beautiful," Rusch said.
More than one thing can be true
As I work toward moving forward, I'm tempted to judge myself. Some days, I feel too sad. Other days, I wonder whether I'm not sad enough. I also often find that I'm comparing myself with others. I joined a local widows group to make friends who understand what losing a spouse is like. I quickly realized that everyone's grief journey was different. I connected with some women more than others and realized each person's path didn't have to be the same.
"When you judge other people, it reflects back on you," Davidson said. "It's the same when you judge yourself. Recognizing that and having patience with yourself in those moments are so important."
Improv acknowledges that a single situation can take on a variety of emotions. In one of the exercises we did in the class, we all announced, "It's Tuesday," while putting different emotions behind the words, such as excitement, dread, worry, and surprise. This lesson helped me learn that I could apply any emotion I wanted to the statement "I'm alone" and each one could be true.
A variety of emotions can coexist, especially in grief, Rusch said.
"Lots of big feelings — difficult feelings and joyful feelings — can be true at the same time," she said. "How do we honor that for one another and honor that for ourselves, too?"
I never expected to be a widow at 59 and to have to create a new life on my own. The lessons I learned from improv couldn't have come at a better time.
Yes, life can deviate from the plan, and leaning in to possibility can help you navigate the unknown.