#3 - On Ryman Shows and my ADHD
"I heard God in the Ryman, I crawled out of the grave." - Jason Isbell
For seven years in a row, I have done at least one Ryman show. This was my ninth show on my favorite stage in the world. God, I am hoping, pleading, praying, begging, to make it to ten shows. And I’m hoping, pleading, praying, begging that the tenth show happens in 2026 so I can keep this years-long streak alive.
Every time I step onto this wood, I think “This is it. This is the last time I get to do a show here.” Maybe that’s the thing that keeps pushing me forward? One side of me is constantly thinking the worst. The other side is too stubborn to let it be the last time.
But sometimes it is the last time.
I don’t know if this one was the last?
Editor’s note: it’s me, Katelyn. I’m the editor of this shit show.
Every time I sit down to write one of these, I have the intention of just telling a story about a recent event or giving some thoughts. Apparently, though, I decide to get all up in my feels, and for that, I’m not sorry. Most of you know me in real life. You KNOW I am emo and sensitive af. You know I cry over everything, and yes, I did cry over this.
I recently went to a new psychiatric nurse practitioner. Like less than seven days ago recently. I went my entire life silently struggling with what I now know was undiagnosed ADHD and anxiety. Co-morbid, they say. Morbid is a wildly accurate way to describe it, if I’m being honest.
In summer 2021, an article about Simone Biles and her ADHD popped up in my news feed. I read it, and for the first time in my life, I saw the exact same things going on in my brain. I can’t find the article; I wish I had saved it.
It never occurred to me that I had ADHD until that moment. I knew I was anxious; I’d been in therapy since 2018. But my family and I thought I was just quirky… that I talk too much… that I word vomit the second I realize I like someone even remotely a little bit and want them to be my friend… that I can’t stay on task… that I can’t follow through sometimes. I was just Katelyn.
I’ve always been “just Katelyn.” I reckon I always will be.
I told my therapist “I think I have ADHD,” and before too long, in September 2021, I was scheduling appointments with a psychologist. All this in between my first shows back from COVID!
When I did the testing, I knew. The psychologist made me play with blocks. It was miserable. I hate failing, and I failed that. Or maybe I passed because I have ADHD, and that test confirmed it? I don’t know.
Along with the in-person testing, the psychologist sent these long questionnaires to my mom and Dan. My mom also did a rather lengthy phone call with her too. I asked my mom to not tell me about the call until after I’d gotten the final answer on do I have this or not.
In November, right before Thanksgiving, one of my best friends took me to my follow-up appointment. Trying to schedule any of these appointments was like trying to hit a bullseye a mile away. I was going to Pennsylvania with Dan to see his family for the holiday, and not being one to mess up a plan in place, I had him drive up as planned and decided I’d fly up after my appointment. Why on earth I thought I should get this dumbass diagnosis without my partner there, I don’t know. We spend 65% of the year apart anyway so I guess it was nothing new. But thank God my dear boy Caleb took me. I remember walking out with this thick pile of papers shaking it at him “I knew! I have ADHD!!” Of course, I cried. At least Caleb was there for a hug.
Later on, I told my mom, and she broke down crying; I did too. I remember her saying something like “I just thought you were quirky. I’m so sorry. I feel like I’ve failed you.” I never thought I’d be reassuring my Momma that she didn’t fail me. We didn’t know!! It’s everyone’s first life in this body. My Momma is just a big kid, too.
—
I saw this new NP on March 6th, and after a lengthy, lovely discussion *where I did not cry!!* she gave me, shocker, Adderall. Holy hell.
Due to my ~anxiety~ and other things, I decided to take it for the first time while Dan was home with me on a Saturday. I sent these texts to my best friends, Caleb and Jacob. ily both.
I guess it works? The jury is still out.
This past Monday, I had my first therapy session since going to the psych appointment. I told my therapist that it was maybe a bit too soon to say it works and is my miracle drug. I felt like my “bad brain” turned off and there wasn’t any noise, but it’s like my “good brain” couldn’t turn on.
I took my meds about 15 minutes before logging onto this session. After we chatted about the psych appointment, my therapist asked about how Million Dollar Show went. Like many things in my professional life, it’s a bit complicated. Like all good things, it’s hard work, and anything worth having is hard work. It’s a love-hate relationship, not unlike my love-hate relationship with doing shows in Florida.
In the middle of talking about this idea of “What if that was my last one? My last MDS? My last Ryman show?” and how those questions drive me to be insanely dedicated to making any show the best one ever, I felt my brain turn off.
I stopped speaking for a moment, and just looked at my therapist. “Hang on… I need you to know this. I took my Adderall about ten minutes before we started. I quite literally just felt my brain turn off. I remember what we’re talking about and exactly what I said, but for the last minute or so, I am so aware that I just went from spewing out whatever came to me to choosing my words very carefully."
After therapy, I text Caleb and Jacob - “Y’all holy shit. I took my Adderall ten minutes before therapy, and halfway through, [I] totally felt it kick in. Like my brain turned off, and I started thinking about all of my words.”
On a phone call later that same day with my friend Sam, as I was telling him about this new experience, he said “I can tell.” I wanted to cry, though not because I thought that statement was mean. Of embarrassment? Of guilt for being such a little turd for so long to people? For all the interrupting and talking over and word vomiting I’ve done? Of relief for someone noticing the difference, which must mean the meds are working? For little me who just wanted to be liked? For big me who still just wants to be liked? For big me who said to someone recently “Imagine the thing people hate about you is the one thing you can’t turn off” in tears at my kitchen island?
Monday afternoon, I posted a series of screenshots of texts I had sent people over the weekend about the meds. My dear friend Allyson, upon seeing she wasn’t the only one to receive a “the meds are working” text, told me “Who are you if you don’t word vomit?” I don’t know; I’ll figure it out. Because eventually the Adderall wears off, and I’m left with the same brain I've always had. Allyson knows; she got the word vomiting about a gig opportunity last night after the meds wore off. There were a lot of phone calls yesterday.
—
I don’t know if MDS 2025 was my last MDS or my last Ryman show.
When I realized my brain just turned off in therapy, it gave me the most crystal clear picture of what my work and life look like right now in this season of change and uncertainty.
There are two sides of me on any show, at any convening of the Bad Influences Council, at any dinner at Kayne Prime with Dan, on any phone call.
There’s the anxious Katelyn who says “What if this is the last time?” She always says “I love you,” to friends when she parts ways or hangs up the phone, even if it’s weird. She savors every bite of food as if it’s the last time she’ll eat that exact meal with those exact people. She never knows what to say so she just says it all. She cries a lot.
There’s also stubborn Katelyn. She is a bull in a china shop. She stops at nothing. She’ll create more work for herself just to prove a point. She’s the one who really runs your show. Anxious Katelyn plans it, but Stubborn Katelyn makes it happen. She also cries a lot too.
Sometimes one of them gets me into trouble, and I fail at making them work together. I definitely did last summer. Most of the time, however, they meet up and bully me into saying “Well. If this is the last one, it’s going to be the best one.”
—
I went into this one in a fog. Trying to transition from TM/PM to just PM in a year where touring is so damn expensive and hard is not very easy, and quite frankly, it’s weighing me down. So many “Am I doing the right thing?” moments have clouded much of the last three months.
I’d done all the work, did all the things, made all the schedules, sent all the emails, ordered the credentials. Anxious Katelyn was waiting for the shoe to drop, for it to all go to hell. It didn’t feel right.
The night before on Monday, I was sitting at Bridgestone with Dan watching Brooks and Dunn play a private gig. How cool to see Dan’s company go from doing tiny shows with nothing but a laptop to doing an arena show at Bridgestone at the same time as a massive general session in the expo hall at Music City Center. There was a tinge of envy and jealousy as I sat at FOH with him listening to artists I grew up listening to.
“What if I never get to do this again? What if tomorrow is the last show I do all year? What if I never get to PM? What if it’s my last Ryman show ever?”
—
Last Tuesday, I walked into the Ryman, and I didn’t hold my breath like I did so many times last summer, like I’ve been doing for the last six months. The Ryman feels more like home than any other venue I’ve ever been in. The wood and the pews and the stained glass windows breathe life into me. I know the team. There’s no introduction needed, no “real” advance needed. They say “Welcome back!” but I hear “Welcome home!” in their smiles.
I’ve fucked up big shows there, and lived to tell the story while laughing about it. (Because nothing is really that serious). I've grown there. I’ve pleaded with God and the TMs, PMs, and artists before me to have a good show there. I’ve cried at midnight on New Year’s Eve wondering if I was making the right decision to leave Old Crow. I’ve told Bobby Bones at least five times “Thanks for trusting me on this one,” when really I was telling myself “Good job for trusting your gut.” I’ve kept the most ridiculous soundcheck schedules there. I’ve laughed and welcomed people into that tiny production office there. I’ve failed there. I’ve lived there. I am me, there.
There. There. There.
What if it was the last time there?
—
“I heard God in the Ryman, I crawled out of the grave. I guess I’m still a true believer, babe.” Leave it to Jason Isbell to describe what happens to me every time I do a show at the Ryman.
That wasn’t my last time there.
You read this far so you should watch Walker’s yo-yo video. It is by far my favorite thing from the show. We planned this video during rehearsals as a joke, and I cannot believe he got these artists to do this.
https://www.instagram.com/p/BAJXxE_gHB