How the PAC and ManeStage Saved My Life

Hello. My name is Delaney Knottnerus. I'm 21 years old. The people at ManeStage Theatre Company and my involvement at the Sumner Performing Arts Center (PAC) saved my life. And this is my story.

Before I start my tale, I want to explain my reasons for telling it. People may not understand how involvement the Arts can effect someone's life and literally save it. This story is about friendship, community and strength than can only be demonstrated at the edge of oblivion and sorrow. My story is very personal and I hope those who read it will treat it with respect, compassion and understanding. I'm writing this story for multiple reasons. Not only for a personal catharsis but also to show my love for something that can be taken for granted at times and lost in a rather self centered world. Also, so that people can understand where I am coming from. This is the first post of my blog that is going to be dedicated to the workings and events of ManeStage Theatre Company, but it's necessary for people to understand where I am coming from and how important ManeStage is to me.

Like everyone, there have been happy and not so happy times in my life. Recently, it's been the not so happy times. I grew up in this community. I went to Emerald Hills Elementary, then on to Sumner Junior High (now Sumner Middle School) and finally I graduated from Sumner High School in 2009. For the most part, the younger years of my life were uneventful. Normal even. But that didn't last very long. It started around the last years of junior high and my entrance into high school. That normal life I thought I had began to collapse around my ears. I couldn't believe it. My childhood became a lie.

My father is an alcoholic. He is recovering now, or so I hope. But for me, the analytical over achieving child, it meant that those moments, those special vacations, my memories were imperfect. They involved secretive fights behind closed doors between my parents, my father drinking and taking medication to ease a pain I couldn't even fathom. And the worst part was, he didn't remember. He didn't understand what that meant to me. He didn't understand how much I had been hurt. My father has been to rehab twice since the beginning of my high school years. He lost his job. My parents separated. And I became lost.

I didn't have much to grab onto anymore. What I thought was a stable existence teetered precariously in the wind, where one phone call could knock it all over again. And being a teenager who had to grow up too fast, I didn't have the strength to try and put it together again.

But I learned to manage. I adapted to my existence. I did what I could. Although that wasn't a good thing, for now I'm having to tear down the twisted safety mechanisms I had created for myself, I pretended I was happy. And that was all I could do. I worked hard to be what I thought my parents wanted to me. I excelled in my studies because I thought that was expected. And when I failed, I figured it was me. I was too stupid and too incompetent. I tried fixing things that couldn't be fixed by me. And through it all, I was never happy. No matter how many clubs I joined, no matter how many A's I got, it didn't make me happy. And I remained lost.

One of the numerous activities I participated in during high school was the drama program. I mustered up enough courage to audition for the production of The Hobbit in my sophomore year. I was so nervous. I figured there was no way I'd get cast. They would see past my facade of cool and collected, right to the heart of my insecurities and fears. They would re-enforce that all the verbal abuse I had taken at the hands of my father while under the influence. And I would be let down once again.

But that didn't happen. I was cast. And I got hooked on theatre. Why I got hooked, I don't know. Maybe it was something about the magic of being onstage. Something about the blinding lights that made it impossible to actually see the people watching me. Or maybe it was because I could pretend to be something I wasn't. Something more than myself. Either way, I auditioned for the show after that and I was in the Diary of Anne Frank. And the show after that, I was in Peter Pan. I played Smee, the goofy sidekick to Hook. I got to sing, dance and crack stupid jokes. It was great. And again, I got lost in being something I wasn't. And for those two hours during the show, I was in the moment. I worked hard, I made friends and I contributed to a show the community could come and see. I felt like I was doing something and apart of something. I forgot the problems at home. I forgot who I'd have to be when I went home. I could be the Delaney that people wanted to be around.

And I kept busy. That way I could forget my problems. I could forget my shortcomings (imagined or otherwise). So when ManeStage theatre came along during my junior year of high school, I offered to help out. I like volunteering. I liked helping others since I couldn't even begin to help myself. And that's how that started.

I added more to my plate. And I've helped out even more since. Every ManeStage show, I was involved. I learned so many things, like how to run lights, sound, backstage scene changes, the works. And because of that, I became essentially the assistant to the PAC director. I know the building inside and out. And for awhile, that was enough. I helped out at every school district event. I ran choir concerts, band concerts, the high school plays. Everything.

And I made friends. But, it wasn't until recently I realized the people at ManeStage had become more than friends. They became my family. Because when I couldn't turn to my own family, I could turn to them. So slowly and surely, I came out of my shell that I had made, bit by bit. And it wasn't easy. I was convinced they only wanted me around because of what I could contribute and that's it. Because I had made myself necessary to the company, that way I knew they wouldn't let me leave or abandon me like so many others had. I finally had someone to talk to someone. And they actually listened and gave me advice. My high school friends never had much to say, no experience to draw from when I came to them. They just said, sorry. My parents just said, go see a counselor. But with ManeStage, there was a glimmer of hope that maybe someone thought I was worth listening to. Someone cared whether or not I was around.

And that meant so much to me. When you're lost and you think you are alone, that hand reaching out to you becomes a life line.

But, despite that, life still kept pushing me down. It got to the point where I was having panic attacks and periods of severe depression that even the people at ManeStage couldn't keep at bay. Life became difficult with college, holidays became a war zone between two sides and my grandparents died. I became bitter. I became different. I wasn't happy at all, and even though I thought I was pretending to be happy, apparently I was doing a crappy job. I pushed people away. I wanted to be alone. And it got to the point where I wanted to die.

I never attempted committing suicide. That was too scary. I knew that maybe on some level, suicide would effect some people I knew. But I guess I really just wanted to disappear. I wanted to pull a George Bailey and just fade away. Not exist. Because I thought people would be better without me and I didn't know what else I could do. I thought I had tried as much as I could, and that wasn't enough.

And honestly, I think I would have found a way. I don't know how or when, and I shudder to think about that now, but that was honestly the lowest of the low I had ever been. Until my ManeStage family stepped in. They stepped in when I thought they would have stepped out. They showed tough love. They made me see the light. They made me get help. And it was hard. It was hard to admit that I was severely depressed more often than not. It wasn't fun going to the emergency room because I needed to find out now whether or not there might be a medical reason for my extreme sorrow. But my ManeStage family was there to hold my hand when I was scared, to hug me while I cried and listened to me. They were my rock in a chaotic storm. They were everything to me. And their support and their love didn't become apparent to me until I was at that edge of oblivion. I couldn't see in the darkness. I couldn't see at light until they made me. They literally saved my life.

And even the people who are reading this that are apart of ManeStage who didn't directly know what happened, they helped in their own way. They smiled at me despite my bitter comments. They hugged me when I would just cry for no reason and they didn't ask why. They didn't judge. They accepted me.

ManeStage has a mission statement that says plainly this: ManeStage Theatre Company is a family of creative artists committed to producing dynamic drama that enhances the moral imagination. ManeStage Theatre Company seeks to be a haven for creative artists of all ages to utilize their gifts for the "Greater Good" to stimulate and educate audiences from all walks of life and to serve the community by producing professional, family oriented entertainment. 

That mission statement truly guides the choices of the company. They accept everyone and try to better the community by being a safe haven and being positive. ManeStage is my safe haven. They are my support system. They are my family. And through the Arts in our community, they have changed my life and I know the lives of many others. High school is hard. Simply, life is sometimes very hard. It's important to have a safe place to go and somewhere you can express yourself without fear or judgement.

Especially with the show that just closed today, A Christmas Carol, there is a strong message of hope and compassion that is being delivered to the community. That people can change and that the holidays are not just about money and gifts, but about family and friends and spending time with one another. It's about kindness and pure joy life brings and finding comfort in the people you care about. Many a show I have ended in tears by the beauty and love expressed by those on stage. We need more of that in our lives. We need to think of others and not ourselves. And the people at ManeStage strive to do that, to check their egos at the door and to really serve the community. And being around those people changes a person. I am a better person. And I hope that I can change and help others just as much as I have been influenced by this group of people. Like I said, this group saved my life. I don't know who I would be without them. I don't think I would be as strong or as independent as I am now. And that's not something I can take for granted. It is something that needs to be shared so that others can see what I've seen and maybe on some level, understand what ManeStage really means. To me and to others.

The Arts are so important in the community because they can change lives. I know. The family friendly productions at ManeStage spread messages of hope and love. Of forgiveness and kindness. And in our world, that's sometimes hard to find. It's hard to stay positive when everyone thinks of themselves. We need people to think about each other instead. To help. To serve. And that's what ManeStage is about. They helped me and saved me in the ways it really means to be saved. And I am forever grateful.

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I want to thank you for reading my story. But know that there are many similar stories like mine at ManeStage. It is a family not only for children from broken homes, but for people of all ages. Please take a moment to check out the ManeStage website at manestagetheatre.com and maybe even come see a show. I promise you will leave with a smile on your face.

Delaney "Knotts" Knottnerus