Embarrass Yourself Weekly

How improv became the most joyful therapy I never meant to find

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In 2018, I was going through it. My partner and I opened our restaurant in late 2017, after a renovation that took over a year and almost all of our savings. (Yes, all the cliches you’ve heard about the first year of running a restaurant are based in truth. No, I haven’t watched The Bear.)

In addition to running the restaurant, I was also working full time outside of it, in an unstable (and often toxic) media environment. And then on top of all that, my partner suffered a mental health crisis. Oh, and our neighbours kept threatening to sue us. There was a lot going on. My doctor suggested that I go to therapy.

So I did. (Honestly, I probably should have started several decades earlier. But that’s not what this story is about.)

Sometime around then, my old improv teacher popped up in my social media feed (I took classes with her when I was a high school theatre nerd, but I quit once I started university). On a whim, I sent her a note asking if there was any room in one of her classes. She immediately invited me to join her Monday night class.

Mondays very quickly became the highlight of my week. A sacred sanctuary of joy, silliness, and pure creativity, where none of the everyday bullshit stressors matter.

And I quickly realized that my improv class was an even better treatment for my anxiety than therapy (and no shade to my therapist, who is great, but it’s way more fun). My natural inclination is to turn inward and stew – but improv class is all about outward focus, and it forces me to get out of my own head. There’s probably an element of exposure therapy at play too – it’s a safe space to get up and do scary, embarrassing things in front of a group of people, and realize that an embarrassing moment won’t actually kill you. You can live through an uncomfortable silence. And sometimes what you’re afraid will be an embarrassing flop actually turns out to be a creative triumph.

Yes, there’s a lot of pointing and clapping and zip-zap-zopping. Yes, my partner burst into hysterical laughter when we watched that one episode of Hacks, near tears as he asked me “is that what you guys do?” and I couldn’t exactly say no.

Sure, it’s silly. But it’s rejuvenating and inspiring. Kate Ashby, who leads the class, is an incredibly gifted teacher. She creates a beautiful room that is joyful and supportive, a creative space where truly anything can happen for two and a half hours. Some classes I’ve tried over the years don’t have that same feeling of support – people try to out-funny or out-clever one another. But Kate’s class is an exercise in just seeing what emerges out of the moment. She often refers to the whole class as an “active meditation”, and that feels right.

During the pandemic, we were forced to move the class to Zoom, but Kate only let that serve as more inspiration, designing games and exercises that made the most of our new distanced medium, and that Monday night ritual of connection became more important than ever during those distanced months.

In adult life, how often do we get to make time to play and be silly, just for its own sake? To be in a room where the whole point is pure, ephemeral creativity? Sure, there are plenty of lessons from Monday nights that serve me well in my personal and professional lives outside of class:

Find the game.

Listen to your partner.

Follow your instinct.

Everything you need is right in front of you.

Be in the moment.

Let it go.

But those are just side benefits. Monday night improv isn’t “for” anything, really, except fun. But I always emerge from that room better, happier, more present. All you have to do is show up and see what happens.

Joanne O’Sullivan is a bit of an all around creative Swiss army knife. She’s a writer, performer, event organizer, media producer, stand up comedian, coach, and not to mention just a super swell human. She has a one woman show opening as part of this years Toronto Fringe Festival and if it’s anything like other Joanne O’Sullivan events, it’ll be something not to be missed.

You can get more info, or buy tickets here.