The making of Disorganized, both the film and the show, was an undertaking that spanned two years. I use the word undertaking because I don’t think I realized I was taking on such a big thing. It came in various sized chunks as the pieces all came together. Truthfully, I may not have followed through if I had known the effort would take me into completely unknown and at times deeply uncomfortable territory.
Those two years began with writing letters to the parts of myself I found to be the most challenging; the ones I created distance from and struggled to have a relationship with. What started as a release exercise born out of emotional desperation became two years of process work.
This work included months of psychosomatic preparation, photoshoots, improvisational movement, choreography, rehearsal, screenwriting, production, editing, and last but perhaps most important, showing the work!
As a filmmaker seeing my letters come to life in this way felt like a natural evolution. A reaction to two questions — What would happen if I put these parts of myself on screen so that I could confront them? So that others could?
Disorganized as a thesis, process, and film has taught me immeasurable things. It taught me how to give a concept time to bake, how to allow a thing to take on a life and shape of its own. I learned how collaborators can act as healers and how the collaborative process in its essence is co-regulation. I learned how to create a new process and let the steps reveal themselves as I put intention to action. Among the things that I learned and will carry with me, I learned how to be more vulnerable in my work and in my life, how to feel the fear and do it anyway.
This work has led me to a new place, where there is no standard or expected beginning, middle, or end. Where the work is not finished, and that is enough for now.
