“My road trip partner Tilly and I kept trying to get dance shots in nature. This was in Arches National Park. Originally the goal was to dance in nature, but once we were out there, we weren’t as inclined to dance — which is interesting.” (All photos provided by Adrienne)

Adrienne Velasco-Storrs on loss, growth, and hips

A life in theater is inherently filled with uncertainty. But for Adrienne Velasco-Storrs, a just-for-fun audition in Chicago two years after getting her BFA led to five years of steady work as an actor, dancer, and singer — and even an Equity card. Like many artists, Adrienne eventually made the move to New York City, in October 2019. Whereas most NYC newcomers need a while to find their footing, Adrienne quickly carved a place for herself, landing an agent and major auditions in only weeks. Within just a few months, she had done pre-production for two Broadway shows, but also received scary health news. And then Covid hit.

“This was right before I left for my road trip. My partner Alex and I used to go up to the roof of our apartment building — the view was great. You could see the East Village, downtown, the Freedom Tower, the Empire State building, and the Chrysler building. We would go up there almost every night to get some air, because New York was really shut down for months. This was the day I dyed the tips of my hair green ’cause I was bored.”

Let’s start pre-pandemic. You had just moved to New York and built all this momentum. Then what happened?

The ball was really rolling, and then I started having intense, debilitating hip pain. Like, I couldn’t dance all of a sudden. So I went to the doctor in November of 2019, got an MRI, and found out both of my labrums were torn, I had a torn gluteus medius and minimus tendons, and my ligaments were torn in both hips, as well. It makes sense — I’ve been dancing hard since I was a kid, and I never really stopped. And then for the past 10 years, I’ve been dancing professionally in three-inch heels — jumping, doing gymnastics, and turning, eight shows a week every week. So I had to take a break from dance starting in December of 2019. It was hard because I had to decline lots of auditions. But then I got called in to audition for the first national tour of a Broadway show, and I just couldn’t turn that down. So I rested, and I felt a little bit better, but I wasn’t really healed. Because the thing about my particular injuries is you can’t truly heal unless you get surgery. And that requires like six months of recovery. But I went to the audition, made it to the final callbacks, and I booked the tour — in late February.

Also, a week or two before Covid hit, my grandma died. She was a huge influence on who I am, so that was really hard. I am glad she passed before this shit show happened, and that I got to be with her on her final day. I added her maiden name — Velasco — to my last name to carry her with me everywhere I go.

How did you feel when the pandemic first hit?

Honestly, I was kind of relieved, because I had a very legitimate excuse to rest and do what the doctors were saying. I took it as an opportunity to check some other things off my bucket list — goals I had outside of theater. I had gotten my Level 1 WSET (Wine and Spirits Educational Trust Association) certification a few years ago during time off between contracts, so I got my Level 2 certification in the first few months of the pandemic. And then I had always wanted to do a long backpacking trek in the backcountry, but a trip like that requires a lot of survival knowledge and time off work, which I’d previously never had.

“This is in New York, in like month two of the pandemic when I was planning my trip. I started looking at maps of all the national parks and realized I wanted to paint a map of the United States using color and texture to represent the terrain. And that’s my cat, Cumin. He’s actually my husband, and then my partner Alex is my boyfriend. Cumin will just sit on my shoulders when I’m doing any daily activities — he’s the love of my life. So yeah, at the beginning of the pandemic I was being really productive — going to wine school, painting, planning a trip, going on a trip. But then I came back and was like, ‘I don’t have a job. I don’t have a job.’”

Tell me about this backpacking trip!

It started with another dancer, Tilly, and I becoming friends. We had met doing pre-production for a show. When the pandemic hit, we started FaceTiming every day and became really close. We had a mutual interest in doing a road trip and backpacking, so we figured we’d do it together. We first went on several hikes together just outside New York City, and then we were like, let’s make a huge trip out of this.

We ultimately did a five-week road trip where we backpacked and camped in several parks across the United States. We went to Rocky Mountain National Park. We did a canoeing trip in Canyonlands, where we camped on the side of the river for three days. We went to Capitol Reef National Park, the Grand Tetons, Yellowstone, and Badlands. And we ended the trip in upper Minnesota, doing a week-long canoeing trip in the Boundary Waters, which is a glacial ice melt. You canoe through these lakes and then you portage, which is when you carry your canoe on your head from lake to lake. I learned so much about survival in nature from the whole experience.

Left: “That is the Grand Tetons, which is the most beautiful mountain range I’ve ever seen in my life. It looks like the Alps. We had a really scary bear encounter in the Grand Tetons. Hiking in those mountains was intense.” Right: “That was in Canyonlands after a really long, hard day of canoeing against rough winds. We had been canoeing for like eight hours straight, and had finally found a spot to camp for the night. There was a beaver on this beach — I was really excited about the beaver. I don’t even think we had set up camp yet. We pulled up to the beach, saw the beaver, and knew we’d found our spot. So of course we had to take a photo.”

What happened when you returned from your adventure?

I came back to New York floating on cloud nine, but then shit really hit the fan because I found out my job that was supposed to start in the fall had been postponed until spring of 2021, at the earliest. Until then, I thought we’d have six months or so of pandemic life, and then I’d be able to go back to work. Also, my uncle died while I was on my backpacking trip. So I was processing the death of my grandma, the death of my uncle, and the death of my career.

To be totally honest, after that trip, I just laid in bed and watched a lot of Netflix, which I hadn’t done until that point. For the first four months of the pandemic, I was painting, I was planning this trip, I was making music with my partner — I had this really optimistic outlook. But after the trip, everything shifted. I just laid in bed all day for like a month. I didn’t exercise. I just threw any semblance of routine out the window and literally did nothing. I started feeling overwhelmingly exhausted. Like, getting up to pee was hard work. I just wanted to sleep until it was all over. Sleeping is still sometimes the best part of my day.

“For the first four months of the pandemic…I had this really optimistic outlook. After the trip, everything shifted. I just laid in bed all day for like a month.”

I wasn’t returning people’s calls because I was ashamed of feeling this way. I would just wait until the evening so I could start drinking wine. It’s a little scary to acknowledge, but after two or three sips of wine, I would feel so much better. I wasn’t drinking during the day, but definitely every night. I used to start early, and then I would drink too much, so now I try to wait until 8pm or so. But yeah, that was what I was doing in August.

And then I realized I needed to move because I was like, “I might die here.”

“This photo was taken on the way to a winery in Finger Lakes, New York. It captures how I feel about my life during Covid — like I don’t have an identity anymore.”

Where are you now?

My current location is Santa Barbara, California. My partner and I moved here for my sanity. New York just represented all of these beautiful things, both career growth and personal growth, and it was really difficult for me to be sitting there and not be dancing. Also, I’m actually not a city person, I’m a nature girl. I grew up in an avocado orchard, running around barefoot.

I wish I could have stayed to contribute to New York’s economy and culture. It was selfish for me to move away from a place that needs people in it, but towards September, my mental health was getting really bad. I was having thoughts I’ve never had before — suicidal thoughts. So I knew I had to leave, and at least have trees around me, which has helped. It’s a privilege to be able to up and move, and I’m grateful I was able to. Being away from New York does make me realize how valuable it is to me, and I hold it so dear — more so now than ever.

How has the pandemic affected your sense of yourself as an artist?

I do have this guilt about how depressed I’ve been, and that I haven’t produced anything — maybe I’m just not an artist after all. Because I can produce things when people ask me to, but now that I’m just sitting here, I am not doing anything, so what kind of an artist does that make me? But I know these are just toxic thoughts. I do believe every traumatic or painful event in my life has led to massive amounts of growth, and I’m trying to trust in that, but it’s hard when I’m in it.

“I do believe every traumatic or painful event in my life has led to massive amounts of growth, and I’m trying to trust in that, but it’s hard when I’m in it.”

I was actually already starting to experience these fears before the pandemic hit, when my hips were not okay. I was already asking myself “What if I can’t dance anymore?” And the pandemic has just amplified those questions. “What am I if I’m not an artist?” Frankly, I’m experiencing depression for the first time. There are things I want to do, there are things I know I can do to make myself feel better, I know I have all the tools necessary — but I don’t use them.

I’m constantly trying to remind myself that fruits will grow out of this dark time. I’m excited to see what those fruits are, but I haven’t seen them yet. I’m pretty sure one day I’ll look back and I’ll be able to see all the growth, but I’m in the growth right now. So I just have to hang on for however long it takes.

“I have a front yard here in Santa Barbara, so I’ve been taking Coriander outside on a harness in the mornings. This is the first time I ever took him out. He’s watching birds and trees for the first time ever, and observing me. Now I take him out every day, which gives me some routine and also forces me to get outside on days when I can’t motivate myself otherwise.”

As a Thank You for sharing your story with me, I’ll be donating to an organization of your choosing. You’ve picked Lutheran Immigration and Refugee Service — tell me a bit about what they do.

When you asked me that question in your initial email, I had just been reading about the hundreds of migrant children who are still separated from their parents. Lutheran Immigration and Refugee Service advocates on behalf of migrants and refugees, and works to reunite families, among other things. It feels like a good place to be sending resources right now, although there are of course so many equally deserving organizations.

Is there anything else you want to share about your pandemic experience?

I guess I’ve just come to realize how the simple things in life truly make a difference. Having animals around, having a loving, affectionate, and supportive partner, and a space to rest — I’m learning that I don’t actually need much.

Another thing is I have recently decided to get the surgery to repair my labrums. It’s scary, but it’s also exciting. It’s scary because 20% of dancers who receive the surgery don’t return to sport, but 80% do. So I’m going to take the risk because if I am part of the 80%, it will hopefully extend the life of my hips by 10 years, and it’ll give me longevity in this career when I return. I’m nervous to go under the knife, but I think that recovering from surgery will give me a goal, and I really need a goal right now.

To donate to LIRS:

Please visit: https://www.lirs.org/ways-to-give

“I love this photo of me. This was in Finger Lakes, New York, on a trip for my partner Alex’s birthday. Our friends brought mushrooms, and we all took some. Those are cornfield flowers. And green is my favorite color. At this moment I was coming up, so I was simultaneously very happy and very nauseous. I remember thinking ‘I’m gonna puke, but I’m not mad about it.’”