#14 Weekly DBrief

Weekly Debrief (…more like Monthly, but who’s counting?)

So… calling this a weekly debrief feels a bit fraudulent at this point. Let’s be honest, it’s been a month. But what a month. Probably one of the most transformative months of my life.

Les Mis has been nothing short of extraordinary. To stand on that stage and play Jean Valjean felt like more than a performance to me, it was therapy, it was healing, it was a declaration. That show gave me permission to believe in myself without apology. It gave me strength, and it gave me the boundaries that come with knowing your own worth.

But the last month has been heavy too. I said goodbye to Zeus, my loyal companion through the darkest days of addiction and loneliness. That heartbreak gutted me. Then, as if the universe hadn’t already tested me enough, I witnessed a dog get run over the very next day. I stayed with it until the end and made sure it got to the vets, so at least its owner could know what happened. The day after, I stood at a funeral with a friend to say goodbye to his daughter.

And still, somehow, life kept moving. On the same day as the funeral, I returned to a theatre I hadn’t set foot in since getting clean. Walking back through those doors was surreal, like facing down a ghost of the man I used to be. That day felt like a circle closing.

And yet, on the opening day of Les Mis, the universe handed me another moment I didn’t see coming. For weeks I had been trying to track down my uncle in Bristol, someone I love so dearly, only to keep missing him. Then suddenly, there he was, standing in front of me as if placed there by fate. And yet, he didn’t recognise me. It was a knife to the heart, but also clarity. The universe knew I needed to see him that day, at that moment, so that door could close right then and there. It hurt, but it also set me free.

This show has shown me so much. In the past, I would have been wounded and bitter about those “near and dear” who couldn’t make it to such an occasion. But instead, I found myself in a state of grounded catharsis. I didn’t mourn their absence, because deep down I knew the universe was simply putting my life in order for me, and I accepted its help.

Everything is nuance. I understand that now. Not everything is personal, and it’s something I keep reminding myself of. But what is personal is how I choose to respond. And thanks to this experience, I know I’ll be able to make choices more easily and direct my energy far better moving forward.

Old friends have drifted away too, and I’ve had to let them go, not with bitterness, but with a sense of self-worth that refuses to shrink anymore. And in their place, I’ve made space for new friends, the kind who belong in my safe circle, the kind who see me for who I am now, not for who I once was.

And through it all, I haven’t walked alone. I’ve been lifted up by my family, my friends, and even people I’ve never met. Old acquaintances who happened to be in the audience and later sent such beautiful words. Old followers from my band days who reappeared with encouragement. So many of Sasha’s followers, and all of her family, who have treated me as though I were one of their own.

And then there are the life-long connections I’ve made during this show, the people who allowed me to show up as my authentic self and accepted me fully, with no conditions. They’ve supported me, they’ve cheered me on, and they’ve loved me. For that, I will be forever grateful.

This month has been one of growth, self-realisation, and truth. Playing Jean Valjean, I got to sing Who Am I? A song that hit me harder than I could ever explain. That’s the moment Valjean realises he can’t run from his past. He can’t bury it or hate it away. His past is part of him. And the same is true for me.

We spend so much of our lives running from where we’ve been, ashamed of the mistakes, reminded by others of the things we did wrong. But history, our personal history included, is there to be learned from, not erased. It’s what shapes us. And it’s what gives us the wisdom never to repeat the same mistakes again.

On that stage, I made my own declaration:

Who am I? I’m David Bryan.
I am a good man building a better life.
I am the sum of my past, standing in my present, looking forward to my future.
I will no longer be held accountable by others for a life I no longer live.
I will cherish those who value me, respect me, and walk with me into the future.

And maybe that’s the biggest lesson of all, the universe will always find a way to close the doors that need closing, so we can finally walk through the ones that are waiting for us.