Writer, actor and stand-up comedian Sims Holland has been performing her one-person show Learning to Human across the U.S. to rave reviews and critical acclaim for the past seven years. In August, she is finally bringing the show to the UK to perform at the Edinburgh Festival. Here she talks about the power of connecting with an audience, the universality of human experience and how she turned being a shitshow into comedy gold. 

Alex: Can you give us a quick outline of what the show is about?

Sims: It’s a dark comedy about grief, chaotic addiction, and the turbulence that it brings to one’s life. Then it’s about finding recovery and not quite knowing how to be a human as a full-grown adult in recovery, and the wibble-wobbles that go with it. It’s a human story about how we try to figure things out and rebuild our lives from whatever has happened in the past.

Alex: The idea of Learning to Human is quite relatable for everyone, not just people in recovery. Everybody finds life difficult sometimes, even if they won’t admit it. Most people have that feeling of, “How do I be human?”

Sims: Absolutely. That’s the universal aspect of the show. I was a shitshow – that’s the truth. I am an addict, and I used anything and everything I could to not be present in life.

In the show, I refer to a “certain unknown” – that feeling we all have of not quite knowing what we’re doing. Deep inside us, we all have some version of: “What am I doing? Am I doing this right? Did I choose the right path? Everybody else seems to know what they’re doing, and they’re doing so much better.”

I don’t necessarily want to paint that onto everyone in the audience, but that is my experience. This is the human condition – uncertainty and fumbling around trying to figure things out.

Alex: The show is autobiographical, and as you mentioned, it talks about grief, recovery and you being a “shitshow” … but it’s a comedy?

Sims: It is! It’s a dark comedy. I was doing stand-up at the time I was writing it. I was in my first year of recovery and, with all the arrogance in the world, I thought I could sit down and write a one-hour comedy special. Instead, this show kind of poured out of me.

The intention was for it to be a comedy, but it ended up being a telling of my journey. I certainly touch on a lot of things that aren’t often openly talked about. I’m in recovery from a past eating disorder – which is something that is very rarely talked about in this context – but I’m saying, “I’m okay, and these things are funny, and we’re here, we’re all laughing, and it’s okay.”

I talk about tragedy and grief, what happens when the unexpected happens, the feeling of being lost to addiction, and a chaotic youth and adulthood. There are all these experiences that the audience can attach to or identify with.

I hope that gives people an “in” to darker topics, allowing someone who has experienced them but hasn’t been able to talk about them to feel a little less raw or uncomfortable.

Alex: How does using comedy help you connect with audiences over difficult subjects?

Sims: I look back on the hard times in my life, and the comedy was always there. That’s just what it’s like to be human. I’ve always been attracted to darker issues told from a humorous perspective. It points to how we, as individuals, go through a lot more similar things than we realise.

Grief is a universal experience, and so is reaching for something else – gambling, partying, anything to avoid experiencing what’s happening in our own lives.

I think there’s something wild and free and clownish about playing the fool in front of everybody. Saying, “Look how foolish this is. I’m here, and it was scary at the time, and it was dark as shit, but … isn’t it all hilarious? Can you even believe that I made it through that?”

I’m in 12-step recovery programmes, and they’re hilarious. Everybody’s laughing because we’ve gotten through such dark things, and we connect on the darkest stuff. Even outside of those rooms, we’re all searching to connect over some dark shit we might have done or experienced, and find some light and relief in that. It’s a release that feels like it has to happen after something so hard to handle.

Alex: My initial experience of 12-step groups was like, “What are you all laughing about?”

Sims: Yeah, like, “Fuck you guys.”

Alex: I was expecting the meetings to be depressing, but that kind of laughter of recognition, and then the laughter of joy afterwards, was so important.

Sims: I’ve been performing this show in my hometown, where I experienced all of the things I talk about in the show. Austin is a big city, but it very much had a village mentality when I was growing up.

A lot of the people I grew up with, who know me and experienced my story alongside me or from the periphery, have come to see the show. Many of them are my parents’ age.

It has been incredibly eye-opening to see these older people coming up to me afterwards and saying, “You told my story,” because they haven’t been able to talk about it, especially with subjects like eating disorders.

Alex: You’ve had people coming up and saying, “You’ve told my story.” That’s always quite a profound moment, isn’t it?

Sims: We had a group of people who had lost family members to addiction come up to me and compliment the show. You just never know how things are going to land or be taken.

There’s a joy and satisfaction in interacting with the audience afterwards, having been through this thing together. You’re in a relationship with the audience when you’re performing or telling a story. It’s like, “You said exactly what I needed to hear.”

I feel like that happens after this show. I’m sure that’s probably a universal feeling for performers, but the way people connect to it is so personal.

The show is asking the question, “How do we make it through all of this uncertainty?” And the answer is, “Together.” As I say in the show, “Trying to show each other who we truly are so that we can love each other and help each other.”

Alex: You’ve been performing the show for seven years. How has it evolved?

Sims: When I first put it out there, I didn’t know what it was. It had poetry in it, although I don’t often mention that it’s categorised under poetry. When I first started performing it, it was a blend of snappy slam poetry and storytelling.

We’ve really refined it over the years, and now it feels like a solid mix of dark themes and lightness. It really pushes and pulls the audience.

It feels like a solid show now, whereas before, I didn’t know if I was clowning, doing stand-up, poetry or whatever. It still has those elements, but it’s very much a theatrical show.

Alex: What other artists have influenced you?

Sims: I’ve been thinking about other artists who do comedy about dark, personal subjects so well. There’s the American comedian Mike Birbiglia, who is a great storyteller. Of course, there’s also Hannah Gadsby, who delivers such incredibly profound comic performances. There’s also Cariad Lloyd, who does the podcast Griefcast, which is comedians talking about grief. I just love all of that.

Alex: What has creating and refining the show taught you about yourself and your recovery?

Sims: Do you know that saying, “Alcoholics or addicts have all of the ego and none of the self-esteem?”

Alex: I do now, and I love it.

Sims: This show really showcases that about me. I even talk about it in the show. I have breakdowns thinking, “What the hell am I doing? I’ve written a show about myself, and I’ve asked people to donate to it and buy tickets to come and watch it, and buy tickets again and donate more.” It feels so selfish, but I also believe in the show so much. It’s all the ego, but very little self-esteem.

I love the show – but I still struggle. Am I worthy? Is my story worthy? Am I a fool for doing this? I have this crisis of character almost every single time before I put it on. But every time I do, it’s like karaoke – you get up there, and you’re like, “Okay, what’s the next song?”

The show has been a real journey. I couldn’t have done it without so many people along the way pushing me to continue, or reaching out and saying that it had an impact on them.

The director of the show is actually my partner. We weren’t intending to work together because I feel like that’s a fool’s errand, but he stepped in temporarily. He’s just been incredible – he really believes in the show.

It has taken a lot of reminders and encouragement from him when I’m a puddle on the ground and I’m like, “It’s shit, and everybody thinks it’s shit, and nobody’s gonna like it, and I’m shit.” He just picks me up by the bootstraps and pushes me out on stage.

Alex: What are you most looking forward to about the Edinburgh Festival?

Sims: I think seeing so many artists gather together. We have two small children under five, and they’re coming along with us for the first little bit of the festival because we have no one to take care of them here.

I’m so excited because I want my kids to see all kinds of people expressing themselves in different ways. I want to get them around a group of people who are joyfully expressing themselves in whatever way they want to, and I’m just thrilled about that.

Also, I’ve heard there’s a bubble show that’s supposed to be amazing.

I have some friends from LA who are performing – the Underground Monk show, which I’ve been wanting to see. I’m thrilled about that.

Alex: What’s your favourite piece of recovery media?

Sims: There’s a comedian called Maria Bamford, and she has a book called Sure, I’ll Join Your Cult. In the book, she has a quote like, “Nothing says safety like a secret society,” which I love.

I love that recovery is out there now and that it’s not hidden. That is what addiction is – hiding, right? It’s keeping everything in and not bringing things to light, and recovery media is bringing everything to light.

What a wonderful thing to be able to have someone who might not have thought anyone was like them see something of themselves in someone else’s story.

Alex: What advice would you give to someone who might be thinking about telling their story on stage for the first time?

Sims: I think our stories are so integral to our recovery. Writing and performing can be healing, but creating something that is specifically yours reveals how many universals there are in our experiences. The more we tell our stories, the less alone we are.

Isn’t that what we want to do? Be together and feel … seen and understood?

We’re in a weird time where we don’t know if what we’re watching is real or fake. So I don’t think anything can replace being in a room with a person telling their own story.

The more stories that are out there, the less alone all of us will feel. Nobody’s story is the same, but also, your story is my story.

https://www.edfringe.com/tickets/whats-on/sims-holland-learning-to-human