I had my last outing to a theatre on Sunday 15th March, the weekend prior to the lockdown announcement here in the UK. I sat in the auditorium of the Lyceum watching a beloved favourite of mine, The Lion King with all the joy it usually brings, yet this time was tinged with a curious mix of sadness and resignation: I knew it would be the last time I set wheels in theatre for an indeterminate period, and yet I was still immensely glad I made the trip. My thinking was: “I’m taking every precaution I can to keep myself and others safe, I want to enjoy the very thing that brings me joy and keeps me on an even keel while I’m able, because there will come a point when I can’t.”

And soon enough, that time came, and it’s been a real rollercoaster of emotions. As the industry I loved went digital, for the first few weeks of lockdown I found it incredibly hard to engage with any of it as it just reminded me of the community and the feeling of being in the room. As a disabled person, I find this hard to admit, but though I’ve lived with my Cerebral Palsy all my life, I still find it hard to reconcile with the way it limits my life. You have to consistently battle the preconceptions others have of you, the difficulties you face just getting out and about day to day, I’ve had trouble finding and keeping a job… the list goes on. Because of all that, I’ve found it incredibly difficult to make friends. I constantly feel insecure and think “why would people want to be friends with me” because I can’t do the things all my active/outdoorsy peers do, have to plan outings around whether I can use the bathroom, and so on. I know that’s a toxic mindset to have, and I’m working  on it, for my sake as well as other people’s!

Theatre is where I found my community, the people that welcome, love and accept me: some of whom I have now been friends with for pushing a decade. That feeling is like golddust and I’ll treasure it always. So, to be away from my community sometimes hurt so much mentally it almost felt like a physical ache and I’m not ashamed to say I cried many times. Over time, I found it easier and I’ve watched some incredible pieces of theatre and intimate gigs thanks to streaming, and felt closer to the world I love thanks to participating in Read For The Globe with a whole host of likeminded, passionate and talented folks to give back to the industry we love.

I’ve also felt a sense of gut wrenching inadequacy as the industry has crumbled around me: venues closing, thousands of jobs lost, ineligibility for the Government’s Self Employment Income Support Scheme rife, and despite the limited donations I’m able to give, my petition signing and being vocal, I just felt so helpless and sh*t scared I was going to lose everything positive this industry has given, and continues to give to me. Selfishly, I’m gutted I won’t be spending my 30th birthday  next month celebrating in a theatre as I’d wish.. but there has come a little hope.

Yesterday, along with everyone else in the community I was relieved to see our Government announced a £1.57 billion package to protect the culture, arts and heritage institutions up & down the country. I’m under no illusions that no details have been fully announced yet and that they won’t be problematic in some ways, and we still don’t know when venues can open safely and welcome audiences, and that the focus seems to be on protecting the buildings rather than the freelancers who allow them to run, but it’s a welcome start. I‘m breathing a sigh of relief, for my own mental health and most importantly for all the incredible people my life has been blessed with thanks to our arts industry.

I’ve been a little stung by the inevitable backlash the investment has received from some  but I’ll never stop being  proud of the love I have for this industry, or the fight my community has shown to protect their livelihood and passion, and the camaraderie I see in abundance. It’s reinforced my belief that I want to work in this industry tenfold and that I will always fight for it. It’s a long road, but I’m hopeful to be heading onwards.