Or, how I learned to stop worrying and love my dad.
I was ready to move out. I found the perfect apartment on Chalmers Street, Redfern: Easy access, walk in off the street, next to a bus stop. But my father had other ideas. Chalmers Street was way too noisy. He expressed his concerns to me about privacy issues while I was in the shower. The man has no sense of irony.
Moving out of home is a challenge for anyone. It is especially difficult when you have a disability. In my case, Cerebral Palsy. When you are physically dependent on your parents to prepare your meals, wash your clothes and make your bed, you become emotionally dependent on them too. You cling to them, almost as if they are your security blanket.
Equally, when your son is physically disabled, you automatically fall into the carer role. You view yourself as someone who is both physically and financially responsible for them. If I had a dollar for every time I heard my Dad worry “What will you do when mum and I die?” I could have bought the apartment myself. It doesn’t help that Dad has the personality of a bulldozer, trying to solve every problem as soon as it comes up.
Moving out of home was the biggest decision of my life. It involved a number of false starts. I would get paranoid that I wouldn’t be able to look after myself, or that I couldn’t afford to live on my own on the disability pension. But I decided to make the big move, and the rest is now a play.
My parents insisted on buying an apartment for me even though I was prepared to try renting or live in government housing. For years I felt guilty: Just a spoiled kid with wealthy parents. I’ve gradually realised that buying the apartment was as much about them having the peace of mind that they had set me up for a stable future as it was about me.
I started writing The Unburdening when Dad and I started house hunting. I would write scenes randomly. It was my way of processing the arguments between us. It felt more like journalism than playwriting, so in the end I kept the character’s names the same.
Ash is played by the talented Connor Crick. Ash does not have Cerebral Palsy in the play, just an unnamed illness. There were two reasons for this. Firstly, I didn’t want the play to be pigeonholed as a play about someone with a specific disability. I wanted it to speak to universal themes like a son’s desire for independence, and a father’s need to care for his son.
Secondly, my disability is the thing that people immediately notice about me. So I wanted to ask: Can you have the “real” Ash without Cerebral Palsy? At times, I’ve thought the answer to that is a definite yes. At others, I’ve realised my disability affects every area of my life and shaped my views in profound ways. One thing I know is that it’s a delightfully provocative question.
Throughout the play I was conscious of trying not to make Dad the villain, and I realised I was putting myself in his shoes for the first time. When we were finding what motivates the Dad during rehearsal, the big realization was that even when he was being condescending or being a bulldozer, he was doing it out of genuine compassion for Ash. There’s one line in the play from Dad that sums things up for me: “I get you fine. It’s all this talk of Middle Earth and Monty Python that confuses me.” Dad’s about as interested in Monty Python as I am in the share market, but he’s always been there for me.
Harrison Collis Oates plays Dad with genuine warmth. I was almost in tears when he delivered one of Dad’s monologues.
I am very lucky to have a director in Luke Visentin. His philosophy has been that good ideas come from anywhere. So I lie on the couch, Peter Jackson style, and give my two cents every now and then. I’ve always wanted to direct a show, but communication with the actors would prove difficult (since my speech is hard to understand at first).
Luke expertly unravels the layers of the play. He knows which moments require sharp and sometimes silly humour, as well as those moments that require genuine warmth and heart. The production is much richer for this.
I hope the fun we’ve had in rehearsals comes across on stage, along with the more serious issues about people with disabilities and their families.
Thanks so much for everything you’ve done for me Dad.
The Unburdening runs at the Emerging Artist Share House from September 22-26 as part of the Sydney Fringe Festival. Tickets are available here.
