Have you ever said yes to something and immediately thought, what the hell did I just do?
Have you ever agreed to a commitment so big that your soul left your body and said, good luck with that?
Have you ever tried to be confident and accidentally booked your own emotional breakdown?
Hi. It’s me. Your local overcommitter.
So here is the situation. My friend Tia, Lucky and I decided to celebrate our birthdays in Hawaii. Tia’s birthday is February 2. Mine is February 3. I just turned 40. Forty. Four zero. The age where your back goes out but your personality gets louder.
Naturally, I thought this was the perfect time to add a little comedy to the trip. I have been doing stand up for less than a year. My sets are usually five to seven minutes. Short. Sweet. Digestible. Like a Costco sample. You try it. You enjoy it. You move on with your life.
So I thought, let me reach out to a few comedy clubs in Hawaii and see if I can do a quick little opener. Something cute. Something safe. Something where if I bomb I can immediately run into the ocean and let the tide take me.
My assistant reaches out. A guy responds. He says, we would love to have you headline.
Headline.
Three shows.
Thirty plus minutes.
Now, in that moment, did I say, wow that might be too much for me right now?
Did I say, maybe I should build up to that?
Did I say, let me think and pray and consult my therapist?
No.
I said yes like a woman with zero survival instincts.
Because in my head I thought, this is amazing. I am a headliner. I am Beyoncé. I am ready.
Then I looked at my calendar and realized the shows were in two weeks.
Two. Weeks.
I have less than a year of experience and a solid seven minutes of material and suddenly I am responsible for thirty.
That is when the panic entered my body like a toxic ex who still has a key.
I had one week to write Hawaiian jokes. One week. I have never done crowd work before but I thought, this might be a great time to try because crowd work takes up time and right now time is my enemy. I am basically stretching jokes like they are yoga pants from 2008.
The night before my flight I locked myself in the bathroom for four hours practicing. Four hours. At some point I stopped being a comedian and started being a hostage. I am in front of the mirror performing to my own reflection like it is a disappointed manager.
The more I practiced, the more I forgot.
I would start a joke and halfway through my brain would go blank like a government website.
I was in there whispering punchlines to myself like a lunatic.
At one point I googled, why is my brain broken?
I was convinced I had early onset something.
Turns out I just had late onset panic.
So I did some research and found out you should not practice for long periods trying to memorize jokes because your brain gets overloaded. Overloaded. That is a nice way to say mentally fried like a McDonald’s French fry that fell behind the machine in 1997.
So I stopped. I let my brain rest.
By rest I mean I stared at the ceiling and contemplated my life choices.
Then I woke up at 4 a.m. to Uber to the airport. Nothing humbles you like being half asleep in the back of a Toyota Prius on the way to what could be your professional downfall. I am sitting there praying. Lord help. Lord please let me remember at least one joke. Lord if I forget everything, let there be a fire alarm.
I realized in that moment I got too excited and too confident. Which is funny because confidence is great until it becomes delusion. I said yes to something I was not fully prepared for. Not because I am fearless. Because I am enthusiastic and slightly unhinged.
But here is the thing. I learned a lot from this mistake. I learned that you cannot skip steps just because you are excited. I learned that preparation matters. I learned that your brain needs rest. I learned that sometimes you have to laugh at yourself before anyone else gets the chance.
And honestly, this whole situation is very on brand for me. I am the kind of person who signs up for a marathon and then Googles how to run. I am the kind of person who orders a complicated drink and then panics when they call my name. I am the kind of person who says yes first and figures it out later.
But there is also something beautiful in that chaos. Because sometimes growth looks like panic. Sometimes growth looks like practicing jokes in a bathroom at midnight. Sometimes growth looks like getting on a plane and thinking, well, here we go.
Will I ever do this again?
No.
Never.
Absolutely not.
Unless someone offers me a bigger stage and then we will talk.
The lesson here is simple. Do not overcommit when you are not ready. Prepare for what you say yes to. Respect your limits. But also, do not be afraid to try something that scares you. Just maybe give yourself more than two weeks to prepare next time.
Because life has a funny way of throwing you into situations that make you grow whether you want to or not. And sometimes the only thing you can do is laugh, pray, and hope you remember your punchlines.
So wish me luck. If I survive these shows, I will come back wiser, stronger, and possibly still confused.
And if I bomb, at least I will be in Hawaii.
Nothing softens failure like a beach and a cocktail.
Remember you are my lovers, whether you love me or love to hate me you are still my lover!
Don’t forget Jesus loves you and so do I! Wish me luck!