On January 10th 2026, I gave a semi-improvised performance-lecture at the British Association of Dramatherapists’ annual conference in Glasgow. It was my first time performing in public for a very long time. I got a standing ovation. Fancy that! 

This blog charts the process leading up to the performance, offers a glimpse of the performance itself and explores the aftermath and key learnings from this project.

The photos get increasingly random as the blog goes on. Enjoy!

The Backstory

Last summer, I participated in a performance research lab called Glitter Heart, led by Liz Clarke and Company. We were a group of older women and non-binary creatives, exploring our individual creative practices together, funded by the National Lottery Heritage Fund. 

The Glitter Heart lab reunited me with a parts-based, semi-improvised, performance-lecture format that I had started developing back in 2017, as part of my ‘Work In Progress’ project. 

The Work in Progress project was a vehicle for me to investigate my life-long relationship with stage fright, by making and performing three solo shows in three months, at The Wardrobe Theatre in Bristol. The three shows explored the themes of Stage Fright, Vulnerability and Connection and featured a range of my inner parts (eg my inner critic, my inner academic, my inner child, etc) responding to the themes through movement, song, conversation, theory and audience interaction.

My Work In Progress project was a revolutionary chapter in my creative history in so many ways: 

1.) I took space for myself to play, instead of putting all my energy into supporting other artists. 

2.) I called in an immense amount of support. Each show had a totally different team of facilitators, musicians, lighting technicians and other creative supporters. I asked my wider community for support, by inviting them to share their stories for me to use as inspiration, and then there were all the people who came to watch the shows! I’ve never felt so supported in my whole career.

3.) A new parts-based, semi-improvised performance-lecture format was born - giving me the perfect balance of structure and freedom to finally find my wings on stage. I had a core cast of around 9 characters - each had their own spot on the stage, but I didn't know what they would do or say. I had some theory prepared, but no clue as to how it might get delivered - or whether it would get delivered at all. I had live musicians and playful lighting technicians improvising with me.

4.)The process cured my Stage Fright (or helped me to understand it and manage it better), freeing me up to perform a TEDx talk in 2019 and go on to speak at several conferences after that. 

I had always intended to come back to the full-length semi-improvised performance-lecture theatre-show format. I found ways to integrate aspects of it into my teaching and conference speaking, as a way of making theory fun and accessible, but thanks to the pandemic and my thoroughly documented, long and arduous grief and burnout recovery journey, the full-length theatre version had been consigned to vaults of 2017. 

Thanks to the incredibly supportive conditions of the Glitter Heart lab, in July 2025, I was able to dust off the old performance-lecture format and see how it could fit me now, as this post-pandemic, post-breakdown, post-sabbatical, older and wiser (?!?), version of myself… With the support of four of my wonderful Glitter Heart peers, I performed my first hour-long fully improvised performance-lecture in 8 years. This one explored the link between child-loss, childlessness, grief for the whole fucking world, my grumpy inner child and the desperate desire to contribute. 

During that show, my Inner Critic, my Inner Academic and my Inner Guide offered a sense of steadiness - both to me and to the audience; my Inner Guide offered robust holding and containing, my Inner Academic offered context and theory to frame the exploration and my Inner Critic offered release; when the intensity felt too much, he took the piss. These devices allowed us to journey together into deep and vulnerable territory. I invited the audience to meet me in my inquiry with their curiosity, and their questions and reflections helped to shape the material, moment-to-moment. It felt like a truly collaborative performance and I loved it. You can see photos and an outline of that show here.

After that show, with confidence and support in my bones and fizziness and excitement in my heart,  I applied to speak at two conferences; World Childless Week and The British Association of Dramatherapists’ annual conference. I got accepted for both! You can see a recording of the session I did for World Childless Week here. 

Here follows an exploration of the preparation, performance and aftermath of my performance at the British Association of Dramatherapists (BADth) annual Conference, 2026.

The Brief

The theme of the BADth conference was Shadows To Strength; transforming group dynamics in Dramatherapy. 

BADth described their conference as “… an urgent invitation to look deeply at the forces we engage with daily: the unconscious patterns, systemic tensions, and relational dynamics that shape every space we work in….We are called to navigate these "shadows" and transform them into potent sources of insight, strength, and collective healing…”

The title of my hour-long performance lecture was: HOW DOES YOUR SHADOW IMPACT THE GROUP PROCESS? 

Here’s the blurb:

Holly Stoppit presents a part-performance, part-lecture, part-social experiment using her interdisciplinary skills in Fooling, Internal Family Systems (IFS), public speaking, and research. 

The session explores how our inner shadow parts—the voices and drivers in our heads—profoundly impact our facilitation style and the group process. Holly will share her personal story of how discovering and befriending the shadow parts that drove her to burnout, using meditation, IFS, and Fooling, transformed her practice. 

You'll be guided through how shifting this relationship moves facilitation from being restrictive to spacious, trusting, and empowering. The session invites you to discover the impact this transformation is having on group process and reflect on your own facilitation style. 

The Creative Process 

I knew I wanted to create a structure to improvise within; I wanted to make sure I was attending to the points I’d promised to cover in my application, but I also wanted freedom to play with what was alive in the room. I wanted it to be an interactive experience and for the audience to have an embodied experience.

My original plan had been to chip away at creating the structure of the show slowly, through the autumn and winter, inviting collaborators into a rehearsal room to watch me improvise with the themes and offer feedback to help me develop my structures. This is my preferred way of creating performance; live, embodied, interactive and with support. 

But time did that special thing that time loves to do, and the only window I had to create the show was over Christmas. After a fuller-than-full term of teaching, therapy-ing, studying and dealing with an eruption of grief, I was absolutely exhausted and in need of a really big rest, so I signed up for a meditation retreat at The Coach House in Devon for the week of Christmas.

Ordinarily, I don’t work when I’m on retreat, but as I was packing my suitcase, I could feel a ball of stress building inside my chest. The Show was pacing around inside my ribcage, letting me know I only had until the 10th of January to make it! To alleviate the stress, I struck a deal with The Show; it could come with me, as long as it agreed to let me have a break first, and then be approached lightly and playfully. I packed some big sheets of paper and felt-tipped pens into my suitcase and off I went. 

Letting The Show Come To Me

On December 22nd, I landed at The Coach House, back in the nourishing, welcoming rolling hills of the Sharpham Estate in Devon, where I had volunteered (at The Barn retreat centre over the other side of the estate) for a year from summer 22 - summer 23, as part of my recovery from burnout. Coming back to the kind and gentle land I knew so well, felt like coming home. I gave myself permission to just BE for a few days, to receive the holding on offer from the land and the retreat centre and the staff and the various meditation practices, and to let my tightly coiled nervous system unwind and rest. 

On Christmas day, we were all invited to spend the day in silent contemplation. Ahhhh! How wonderful! A whole day to be with myself on my favourite stretch of land! I gathered a thermos flask of tea and some sneaky Christmas chocolate and set off for a long walk.

About three steps into the walk, I heard an, “Ahem!” 

Me: Hello? Who’s that?

The Show: It’s me, The Show!

Me: Oh hi! I wasn’t expecting to see you today!

The Show: You said I’d have some time this week! It seems like there’s space today, no?

Me: Yes there is space, but today is Christmas day! Surely I shouldn’t be working on Christmas day!?

The Show: What else are you going to do? And what if we don’t call it work? What if we call it play?

I couldn’t argue with that, so I allowed The Show to walk with me, along the wide River Dart, past the waving reed beds, up the red muddy hill, past the funny pink sheep, through the gloriously ramshackle grounds of The Barn retreat centre, where I used to live, and up to the natural burial ground with it’s big views, biting winds and star-studded cast of special guests, including one of my favourite dramatherapy teachers, Ian Siddons Heginworth. Ian always has some good wisdom for me, whenever I visit his grave - this time was no exception, he said, “Stand proud in your wildness, Holly! Don’t apologise!”

I spent the whole day roaming the land, whilst oscillating my attention between the familiar surroundings of the Sharpham Estate, the sensations in my body, memories of my year at The Barn and The Show. The Show was bubbling with ideas, and when I got back to The Coach House, I smoothed out one of the big sheets of paper on the bed and allowed The Show to scrawl down all its thoughts in felt-tipped pens.

Here’s the brainstorm questions that emerged:

• What have I promised? (What’s in the blurb?)
• What do I know? (Where, when, how many people, who are they, what is in the space for me to play with?)
• What do I want the audience to take away?
• Which performance modes might I want to use? (eg Fooling, dance / movement / storytelling / live experiments with the audience / improvised song / ritual)
• Which elements of my personal story might I like to tell?
• Which of my inner parts might want to be in the show?
• What IFS theory might I want to include?
• What live experiments could I do with the audience?

Happy to have been heard, The Show retreated for the evening, giving me space to enjoy a delicious silent Christmas dinner, a peaceful meditation and some joyful connection with the night sky. 

The Crappy First Draft

On Boxing day, I took a couple of hours in the afternoon to sit with the previous day’s brainstorm and see how all my parts felt about it. I opened my journal and handed over my pen to my parts:

Me: How’s everyone feeling today?

Patrica (my inner academic): Thanks for asking. I’ve been waiting very patiently while you’ve been doing this retreat. It’s not really my thing, but I know you’ve needed this, so I’ve just been amusing myself in the library for a few days, but I’m grateful to have this time now.

Wolf: I was so happy to have a big old roam around yesterday. Thank you. I feel satisfied and don’t need to walk as far today. I’m happy for you to take time with The Show this afternoon.

Inner Critic: There’s absolutely no way you’re going to get this together in time! What the fuck have you been doing? Wafting about and having feelings! You could have been working on this all week!

Project Manager: Hey! She needed a break! Didn’t you see how exhausted she was when we got here? We’re actually in a really great place with The Show. All the ingredients are here, we’ve just got to flesh it out!

Inner Critic: There’s far too much work to do and not enough time!

Project Manager: Look, that isn’t helping! We’re just going to make a start today, we’re going to do a rough draft of the whole show right here, so that we can see the shape of it. Then we’ve got plenty of time to edit it and rehearse it, can you please give us some space?

Inner Critic: Hmmm. I don’t want to go too far, I want to keep an eye on things, just in case you veer off into something turgidly earnest. 

Project Manager: Yeah OK, that’s fair, you can hover on the periphery, but you’ve got to let us do a crappy first draft or we’ll never get anywhere!

Inner Critic: OK, fine. Go ahead!

I spent the next couple of hours writing a crappy first draft of the show with pen and paper, no censoring, no editing, just generating material to be shaped at a later date. My parts chipped in all the way through and I wrote down what they said, Patrica offered theory, my Critic let me know when he was getting bored, other parts made various cameos and my Project Manager kept us all on track. 

At the end of the writing session, my parts all felt a sense of relief - there was definitely a show here and there was time to pull it all together. My Project Manager finished the session by creating a schedule for the next couple of weeks, making sure I had enough writing and rehearsal time booked in.

Shaping The Material

When I got back to Bristol, I used a voice-to-text tool to transfer The Show from the pages of my journal to a googledoc, where I could then start playing around with it. My writer / dramaturg really enjoyed crafting the material for an audience, balancing theory and personal story, entertainment and pathos. The Critic loved the fact that he was given a very prominent role in the performance, as the cynic who asks all the clarifying questions. Patrica was delighted to be reunited with her books, so she could include more accurate IFS theory. 

I needed to recruit some more of my parts, to bring the IFS theory to life. It felt important that they were all up for being seen by an audience, so I auditioned them one by one in my living room. I do wonder what my neighbours must think about this strange woman talking to herself in multiple accents all day! But needs must! My final cast included: Patrica, The Critic, Project Manager, The Sugar Plum Fairy (sugar addiction), Procrastination, The Dancer, The Storyteller and an amalgamation of all my exhausted and grieving exiles, represented in movement.

My Director decided to create a playlist to support the movement pieces and to heighten some of the storytelling and my Dancer demanded a particular track that never fails to get me moving (If you did any workshops with me last year, you’ll know what it is!).

Rehearsals

There was an ongoing tussle between the highly experienced improviser in me who wanted to keep things loose and playful and the more fearful parts that wanted to lock it all down and polish it to within an inch of its life. So we reached a compromise: some sections would be scripted and others would be more flexible.

Knowing I needed to get the material into my body (I’m a kinaesthetic learner), I rehearsed in every available moment, in-between work, study and new years celebrations. I performed my piece in the shower, whilst washing up, whilst walking to meet friends and family… It’s not just my neighbours that think I’m a ranting lunatic! Now strangers in the streets of Bristol know me as the woman who talks to herself in multiple accents!  

As The Show date loomed, the tension was building between Patricia, my Performer and my Project Manager:

Project Manager: Arggghhhhh! We've got far too much material AND I know what you're like when you get in front of an audience.

Performer: What? I like to play, that's why they booked me!

Project Manager: I know you like to play, but we've also got to get some important theory across. 

Patricia: Yes we do! It's important that we impart as much theory as we possibly can!

Project Manager: Well, there's a limit to how much theory we can fit into an hour. 

Patrica: What if we cut all the play?

Project Manager: If only we had a bit more time…

***The phone rings, it's the conference organisers. It turns out I've actually got an hour and half!!!***

Performer: Hooray! We have more time to play!

Patricia: How about we squeeze a bit more theory in?

Project Manager: Oh god!

Me: Look guys, everyone take a deep breath. The show is written. We're not squeezing in any more theory, we're not scripting any more play. We're just going to let the show unfold in connection with the audience. We're going to make more space for them to contribute and ask questions and that way they'll hopefully get what they need.

Show Day

On the 10th January 2026, I woke up nervous in Glasgow. I started running through The Show before I’d even got out of bed! I spent the morning at the BADth conference, gratefully using the workshop sessions as my warm-up for my after-lunch performance. At lunchtime I snuck into the huge wood-panelled room where I’d be performing. 

I asked my parts where they wanted to be in the space and my Project Manager set up the chairs for the audience, a table for my laptop and speakers and a flip-chart stand for Patricia’s theory. I put some music on to warm up my body and let each of my parts show me where their spots were on the ‘stage.’ Patricia and Project Manager kept me company, mid-stage, Critic lent on the radiator on the sidelines, Procrastination sprawled on the piano at the back of the stage, Sugar Plum Fairy placed herself up close to the audience, my exiles were behind me to the right side of the stage, the Dancer refused to be pinned down to a single spot…

As I was moving between my parts, the audience began to trickle in.

The Show

Here are the bare bones of what happened in the show:

1.) I welcomed the audience to the show, offering a bit of context and framing:

“Welcome to this hour of exploring how as dramatherapists and facilitators, our own shadows can impact our facilitation and how that can impact group process. During this hour, I’ll be telling a bit of my own story about how my shadow parts led me to the biggest burnout of my life. I’ll be sharing some of what I discovered when I took a year out to volunteer at a meditation retreat centre and then trained in Internal Family Systems (IFS). I’ll be sharing some IFS theory and you’ll get to meet some of my inner parts.”

2.) My Inner Critic started heckling me very early on - offering the voice of cynicism / resistance to help clear any tension in me and in the room. My Project Manager chipped in when timings were getting a bit too loosey goosey.

3.) I offered a little grounding and focussing meditation, to give the audience an opportunity to connect with their bodies, breath, emotions and thoughts, in the hope that they’d then feel more aware of what’s happening inside them as they watched the rest of the show.

4.) I told the story of my Big Burnout, with interludes from my Inner Critic, my Project Manager and my exhausted and grieving inner parts. I shared the build up to the Big Burnout, from running a successful workshop business, to moving all my work online during the pandemic, whilst losing babies and then my partner. I shared my desperate attempts to keep going, by working more, training as a clinical supervisor and designing a new creative facilitation course. I showed the moment when I realised I couldn’t carry on and decided to take a year out.

5.) I shared some of what I learned during my year volunteering at a meditation retreat centre…

“Through co-facilitating the same 6-night retreat over and over again, I realised I was wasting a lot of energy. In all the repetition, I got to notice all the places where I was over-efforting, over-caring and taking far too much responsibility for others.” 

“I began to experiment; some weeks I practiced slacking and being a bit slapdash. Other weeks, I did the work, but I withheld myself, holding back all my stories, presenting as some sort of a neutral person in jeans and a t-shirt and a pony tail… On my slacking and withdrawing weeks, the groups didn’t seem to need as much from me and I had more time and energy for life outside the retreat centre…”

6.) I invited the audience to explore the effort they were making to connect with me and my material, noticing how it manifested in their bodies, hearts and minds. I invited them to turn it up, so that they could really get a sense of the impact of the effort. Then I invited them to soften and release the effort and connect with the earth below, allowing themselves to be supported whilst receiving my offers.

7.) I explained how retreatants kept showing up at the meditation centre with Internal Family Systems (IFS) books. I initially resisted reading them, because I took umbrage to the shiny slickness of IFS and anyway, I have been studying various forms of parts-work for 25 years! But when I eventually surrendered, I found IFS to be a really useful lens to help me understand the parts that had been contributing to my burnout.

8.) Patricia popped in at this point, to offer some IFS theory (I’m not going to share this here as I’ve written about it elsewhere on this blog). My protector parts all helped to demonstrate how the theory works, there were appearances from Patrica, The Critic, Project Manager, The Sugar Plum Fairy, Procrastination and The Dancer - all demonstrating how they try to take care of me.

This section became a great big chat between the audience and my parts, there were lots of questions and musings all round.

9.) We then tried an experiment to explore the central theme of the performance-lecture, “HOW DOES YOUR SHADOW IMPACT THE GROUP PROCESS?”: I embodied several of my parts, whilst facilitating a game of ‘Simon Says.” I invited the audience to notice how they felt in their bodies, hearts and minds in relation to each of my parts, then I invited them to muse on what sort of behaviour this might lead to in a group situation.

This led to a rich discussion. I would love to have gone deeper into this, but I noticed the time and moved us on to the next section.

10.) I came back to my exiles, representing them in movement, before introducing them as: 

“…my exhausted inner children that grew up in a culture that had no rest, no self-care and no boundaries. She’s the sensitive soul who felt it all, in a family where that was inconvenient.” 

I explained how my protective parts had spent most of my life trying to take care of those exiles in their own sweet ways, frantically trying to resource them from the outside, but never really looking at them or listening to them. I shared how IFS has been helping me to get to know those parts and find out what they were afraid might happen if they didn’t do what they were doing to try to keep me safe.

11.) My parts shared some of their fears with the audience: 

Project Manager: Look, I just wanted to make sure she was in connection with as many humans as possible. I’ve helped her find opportunities to get involved, all of her life. It’s dangerous for her to be alone.

Inner Critic: Yeah that’s right! When she’s on her own, I have more power over her! I can make her feel utterly shit about herself, so shit that death feels like the easy option! You can’t get much safer than dead!

Sugar Plum: Oh no, not death! We don’t go there! Quick, get the sweeties out. We’ll have a little sweet lift, get a little buzz, a little comfort, a little joy. We don’t want to feel those sad feelings! She’ll sink down in the centre of the earth and never come back!

Patrica: What we need is learning! There’s great comfort in learning! Let’s sign up for another course! We can become an expert at everything and never be vulnerable again!

Procrastination: Yes we could do any of that, but later - why do it now when we can faff about, how about a little Netflix binge? 

12.) I thanked all my protectors for their tireless work: 

“You’ve helped me stay alive. But I’ve got this now. I’m not the frightened little kid you think I am. I’m a 47 year old woman with a huge community of friends, peers and supporters. I’ve got mad skills and a committed meditation and movement practice. I’m OK! I can look after the exiles now. You don’t have to work so hard! Is there anything you’d prefer to be doing?”

13.) My parts shared what they might prefer to do:

Project Manager: I’d like to play competitive snooker.

Sugar Plum: I’d like to bake cakes for children's parties.

Procrastination: I want to be a zen master

Inner Critic: I’d like to be a ballet dancer.

Patricia: I’d quite like to have sex.

I sent them off on their way, saying; “Be free! Come back whenever you like, but I’ve got this!”

14.) For the final section, I played some gentle piano music and scooped up my exiles whilst delivering this text:

“There is a roundhouse in my imagination. It’s a sanctuary, filled with generations of my resilient Russian and resourceful Geordie ancestors. There’s always a pot of stew on the fire and a song to be sung in the roundhouse. 

This has been my imaginary place of rest and refuge over the last couple of years, it’s where I take all my exiles so that they can feel safe and held. 

I take my seat in the circle of swaying and singing women and I immediately start to feel soothed. We take it in turns to rock the babies, entertain the toddlers and hang out with the teenagers.

More and more people have joined our tribe. There’s the elders, Franki, my Fooling teacher, and Josie, my old therapist, Tone, my old supervisor and Mary and Sarah, the ones who taught me how to be a dramatherapist and all the other elders and friends and peers who have held me over the years…

I sit in my roundhouse, surrounded by love. I breathe deeper. The children play freely and I can rest.”

After The Show

I got a standing ovation! 

As I was looking into the cheering crowd, I felt myself begin to disassociate. Some of my protectors were clearly concerned about my vulnerability, having just splurged my guts on stage, so they hoiked me out of my body. Practical parts took over and packed my suitcase, ordered me a taxi and bundled me out of the door as quickly as possible. These parts knew I just needed to be quiet and still and alone for a few hours, whilst the adrenaline left my system.

The next day I returned to the conference and got to chat to a few people who had been in the audience. I could really sense my vulnerability and the protector parts who were hovering around to protect it. But it felt really consolidating to hear how my story touched other people. After the conference, I walked through the rain for a long time, drifted into an art gallery (see pictures above and below) and eventually connected with some of my Glasgow friends and family in the evening. This all helped me come back to myself a little bit more. 

The next day was my birthday and I spent the whole day riding the train back home. I began the journey with a little sniffle and by the time I arrived back in Bristol, I felt really poorly! Who knows if this was fulled by an allergy to feathers (I’d slept in a feather bed), the adrenaline roller-coaster from the show, general exhaustion or my parts trying to protect me, but the upshot was, I needed to spend a lot of time alone in bed over the next two weeks. 

Two weeks later, I was finally well enough go dancing! I attended a contact improvisation class, as part of a 6-month course I'm doing called ‘Basics To Beyond,’ led by Asher Levin. In the afternoon, we did an exercise in threes where we took it in turns to be physically contained by our two classmates. Curled up in a ball, I felt the warmth and pressure of two bodies holding and containing me. Tears of relief rolled down my cheeks as I began to release all the pent-up feelings I’d been holding since the show. 

Slowly I began exploring the space within the container, expanding and contracting my body, feeling the steady support of my two classmates. My limbs began to find gaps in the container, gingerly reaching out towards the open space. My classmates carefully retrieved my limbs, gathering me back into the container. Gradually my movements grew bigger and bolder and my classmates started offering me more space to explore how my body wanted to move. They tracked me as I moved, offering occasional connection to let me know they were still there with me. 

This exercise gave me everything I’d needed since performing my show; connection, containment, compassion, creativity, movement, play and a safe space to release. By the end of the exercise, I was a grateful snotty mess!

The Learning

• I wrote, rehearsed and performed a show almost entirely by myself. 
• It was hard, but possible to do this, however I do not recommend this course of action! (More on this below)
• I found fun, pleasure and flow in the writing process by allowing my parts to all chip in on the page.
• Environment impacts creation! I wasn’t originally intending to share so much about the retreat centre, but I wrote the show on the land where I’d volunteered for a year, so I guess it was inevitable that the retreat centre would play a significant role in the show.
• I enjoyed all the improvised moments - the show began in chaos - someone had spilled a drink and there was a big kerfuffle as people tried to clean it up - my comedy MC kicked in and I was in my element, free-styling with the unfolding chaos. I might have liked more improvisation like this throughout the show, but I understand why some of my parts wanted to script some sections - I only had an hour and a half and I really wanted to craft something meaningful for that audience. My comedy MC parts don’t care so much about that!
• Having my Project Manager on stage was a really useful devise to keep me on track!
• My Inner Critic had a great time serving a purpose, releasing tension and asking stupid questions on behalf of the audience. He actually loves to be helpful and the audience seem to love him! 
• I enjoyed telling my burnout story to a room full of people who really got it! That felt really validating and hopefully useful to others. I still have some parts around that worry I shared too much about myself… 
• I didn’t think I would mention the miscarriages in this show, but when it got to that part of the story, it felt dishonouring to leave them out. Thanks to my writer, I didn’t linger with that section for long, but it still felt like a risk to share my child-loss / childlessness story with a room full of strangers. 
• I’d like to have spent more time workshopping the movement sections - I felt quite limited in my movement expression and would like to have had some studio time and some support with eeking this material out. 
• I enjoyed offering little experiments for the audience to bring the theory into their bodies in real time. That felt like a nice integration of performance and facilitation and something I’d like to continue to develop.
• I really enjoyed the debates that erupted between the audience and my parts - Patrica seems to really invite this and it feels fun to not know where we’re going and to trust my parts to meet the audience where they are. I’d like more of this!
• It felt good to hand over the IFS theory to my parts - to keep it entertaining and alive. I felt like my self-selected cast of parts were the right parts to carry the theory whilst keeping a sense of lightness - other parts who didn’t make the cut, may have brought in more heaviness.
• I loved taking the audience to my roundhouse at the end of the show. I had originally wanted to invite them to join me in there, to bring their parts and sit in circle with me, maybe even joining me in a song. But time wouldn’t allow for that. So they just got to witness me in my roundhouse, which felt vulnerable, but somehow OK.
• Because the discussion really took off in the middle of the show, there wasn’t time for a Q and A at the end. I had hoped to facilitate a sharing, giving space for the audience to tell their stories in response to mine. In retrospect, this felt like a missing section - both for them and for me. In inviting the audience to travel into my burnout and grief stories with me, I was also inviting them to connect with their burnout and grief experiences. I wish I’d been able to give them more space to honour what had come up for them and I wish I’d been able to hear a little more from them, as a way for me and my parts to feel connection and validation.
• The aftermath was interesting! It was fascinating to watch my protective parts rush in to save me. I felt super vulnerable and I was really needing connection to help me regulate and digest all that had happened, but instead I found myself alone. I did get a snippet of time with friends and family the next day, but then illness took me into solitude for a couple of weeks. 
• My therapist has been supporting me to gently explore the parts that had a hand in engineering an experience where I made a show, performed a show and dealt with the aftermath of performing a show, almost entirely by myself. It seems like my parts were pulling me back to an old way of being, when I used to try to do everything on my own... Back in the bad old days when burnout was a regular occurrence...
• I wish I had been able to reach out for more support all the way through this project. Ideally, I would have liked to have had a friend or two tracking me through the whole process, more studio time with an outside eye or two - to help me develop the material in play and someone on the day of the performance to help me set up the space, check in with me before and after the show and document it somehow. Oh and a live musician - I mean, who wouldn’t want one of those? And maybe a masseur or two…
• Someone asked me if I was going to tour this show and I laughed. I laughed because of the amount of blood, sweat and tears it took to create and perform this show - who'd do that on a regular basis? I laughed at the utterly absurd thought of going back on tour after all these years of learning to welcome stability... 
• But hang on, do I want to perform again? Yes, I think I do. If the conditions are right... There was a lot of pleasure in the process of creating and performing that show and the audience seemed to get a lot out of it. There are so many elements of the performance-lecture format I’d like to continue to develop... It feels like a lovely integration of all my skills and experience. But if you ever hear me talking about making another show, please remind me that I need more support!

Thanks to BADth for commissioning the show, for the audience who really showed up, and to my Glasgow friends and family for their kind support while I was up there (Big love to Sarah, Anna, Jesse, Andy, Rudi, Laurie and Charlotte). Thanks to my wider circle of friends and peers, the Contact Improv dancers, my therapist, my supervisor and you, my dear readers, for catching me on the other side and helping me to work it all through.

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