On Friday, after a week in Texas running around doing spots and recording an album that might actually be a special, I return to LA. It’s in the middle of a heat wave. That oppressive dry SoCal heat, not the thick, humid summer air of Texas. Texas heat feels like a sweaty bear hug. LA heat feels like a hot slap in the face. I’m glad I bought a couple more pairs of shorts back in July.
My long summer of spinning plates – wedding, Fringe, tweaking and refining my latest hour – is over. I am back in LA for at least a while. Summer bleeds into fall here, always, and after 12 years in the city1 I have finally figured out how to get fans blowing with the right force and trajectory to keep me cool. A small, yet important victory.
Speaking of small, yet important victories: today I am celebrating nine years of sobriety. “Jay, that’s not small! That’s huge!” is something you might be saying to yourself right now, but I assure you, it feels small. Not in a derogatory way, but in a “there is so much possibility ahead of me, who knows what the future holds but at a baseline I am optimistic about it” way. In that “I am but a speck in a gigantic chaotic universe” way. In that “there is so much life left to live and nine years is a small percentage in the grand scheme of things” kind of way.
To some degree, I have had to think small to make it here. Granular, even. They don’t say this it all supposed to be taken one day at a time for nothing, and what I’ve learned most this past year was the importance of showing up daily.
In early sobriety, if you work a 12-step program, people often suggest that you “act as if.” This is to get newcomers through the door, in a seat, working the steps, and being of service, trying to force them past their skepticism. You don’t want to be there? Show up anyway. Even if you’re sitting in the back of the room, half-paying attention, maybe hung over/coming down or perhaps even still drunk, you’re making the effort. A minuscule effort, sure, but an effort nonetheless.
When I started working the steps myself, I certainly didn’t want to follow my sponsor’s instructions to a T, or skip open mics to hit meetings or do step work, but I did it anyway, because I was “acting as if.” And, sure enough, the more I got my body to show up, the easier it became for my mind to show up. But I couldn’t rely on doing the bare minimum version of showing up forever.
When I worked at the Comedy Store, I had a couple of shifts on the phones. One of the days I had was important: Monday. Avails day. That’s when all the comics call in their availability for the week, and you have to record everyone’s responses accurately so the booker can dole out spots.
One Monday, I fucked up and didn’t record the avails of a prominent paid regular. I must have gotten distracted after they were called in, and completely forgot to put them in the spreadsheet. Tuesday, I was working the phones again, and I got a phone call from this comic, asking if he had any spots for the week. As soon as I checked the lineups and realized he didn’t, I checked the avails spreadsheet in a panic. His line was blank. I stammered that I’d get to the bottom of it, then hung up.
In one of my bigger “sweep it under the rug and hope no one notices the pile of dirt” moments of my life at that point, I text the booker and lie to him about this comic having called in their avails late, and is there anything that we can do? The buck has been passed, I’m safe for now, there’s no way anything will unravel and point back to me, right?2
On Wednesday, the booker and the comic in question of course talk to each other, and realize that not only am I actually the person in the wrong here, but that I lied to both of them to cover my ass. The booker calls me, explains that I’ve been caught in the lie, and that in addition to my punishment of being banned from doing spots for a few weeks, I need to make things right with this comic.
I call him up to make amends, lay out my part and apologize for trying to cover my ass in a panic. I speak in the language of the program: what can I do to make things right? Things stay tense, but they become cautiously peaceful by the time we finish up. I stand in my friend’s kitchen in Nashville, thinking about how if I’d not done the first thing that popped into my head the day before, I wouldn’t be here. Or, if I had finished the task at hand Monday before running off, how I wouldn’t be here either.
This day, about 4 years into my sobriety, felt like the first time I realized that showing up meant more than just being somewhere. To really show up – at work, in my personal life, and definitely for my sobriety – I needed to pay attention and actively participate.
It's easy to forget how much of continued sobriety is literally just continuing to show up. Not just to meetings or to family functions or to therapy visits, or whatever you need in order to get your mental/emotional/spiritual rocks off, but to your real, actual life. Your relationships, your hobbies, your dreams, your career, your community – show up for all of it. With almost a decade of sobriety, here’s what I’ve come to understand about my alcoholism these days: it manifests as a desire to hide in plain sight. When I’m mentally in my cups, I want to fade into the background, unseen, unwilling to act. I try to sweep things under the rug. To find the quick fix. To do the easy thing, always.
The alcoholic in me goes "just ride off into the sunset. Just avoid the responsibility. You can handle it later." That guy loves to have control, even if having control means leaving behind a mess I should’ve cleaned up.
I’m on the phone with Dave in a Whataburger drive thru, talking to him about how I'm feeling off-kilter since I haven’t been to a meeting in just about a month, how I’m going to hit a meeting first thing in the morning to kickstart this Texas trip. Even though he and I are not usually the 7 AM meeting types, he reminds me that we have to do what's right for us so we can do right by others. We show up and are of service to ourselves so we don't act selfishly, both in our day-to-day and in moments of crisis.
I am in a meeting down the street from my parents' house. Texas meetings close with The Lord's Prayer, which is a little overtly religious for my taste, but as I am constantly reminded through both my continued recovery and my everyday dealings, it is not my job to agree or disagree with what is happening at any given moment – it's my job to show up and help push towards the common goal. And even if I’m rolling my eyes a little bit talking about our daily bread, I am here, with my fellows, taking care of myself so that I can better take care of the world around me.
The desire to have control is hard to give up. Really what I want to do, on any given day, is give in and go with the flow. To treat life like a river and just float it. Find a good inner tube and some friends I can hang with. Wear sunscreen. Bring some Topo Chicos for the journey. But I have to remember that I can’t have the experience if I’m not even getting in the water. Getting to the riverbank is a really small part of the whole experience – if I want to do the whole thing, I need to get wet.
I have a clean slate in more ways than one today. Now that my album is in the can, I am basically starting from scratch on my material. But, in terms of practicing the principles in all of my affairs,3 I know what to do here. I must show up. I must give a shit about what I talk about on stage, how I develop it off-stage, and how I manage my time everywhere in between. I need to give myself chances to get better. I need to take some risks and remember that I don’t have all the answers. But, most of all, I know that I need to be a good friend, and a good colleague, and a good collaborator. And the best way I can do that is if I take this one day at a time.
NEED MORE OF ME?
You can find me:
most Tuesdays at the Comedy Store hosting the Roast Battle pre-show
in LA - full show calendar is here
doing WRONG! in San Diego at Mic Drop Comedy Club on 9/21, get tickets here
Until next time, friends. Thanks for reading, I’m glad you’re here.
an anniversary I did not actually celebrate in the city, but in Aberdeen, Scotland
Wrong. Of course wrong.
there’s a lot of program talk in here today, isn’t there?