When the Curtain Falls-A Happy Ending

Kyra Marie
Feb 9
6 min read

I nearly didn’t write this.

Not because I didn’t have words, oh, I had plenty, but because sometimes the bravest thing is knowing when to speak.

And now feels like the right moment.

The show has closed. The curtain has fallen. I’ve sat in the audience and watched people I care deeply about take their bows, felt that familiar lump in my throat during the final number… and I realised something quietly important:

This story has a happy ending.

Not the one I expected. But a real one.

Panto, People, and a Lot of Glitter

This Community pantomime has meant the world to me.

For five years, it’s been my wonderful chaos in glitter form.

My routine. My little escape from real life. My happy place where I always felt safe, loved and appreciated.

My ‘Panto Fam’

For 4 glorious seasons, I’ve been the fool on stage (literally), the ‘panto mum’ off stage, I’ve made props, designed programmes, done hair and makeup, reassured crying cast members, and helped adults find their wigs and dignity at the same time. I learned so much.

I’ve loved every second. Even the ones I swore at.

Because community panto isn’t just theatre; it’s therapy with glitter. It is pure joy. It’s a family. It was my family.

It wasn’t just rehearsals and scripts and glitter; it was belonging. It was chaos and laughter and backstage singing. It was uncontrollable giggling as I bounced between the dames’ boobs…

(sorry (not sorry) Chris and Tom),

…quick costume changes, pep talks in corridors, and that magical feeling of being part of something bigger than yourself.

My first panto here still lives rent-free in my head.

A granny offered my character, Idle Jack, a sweet mid-scene. She held out her hand, and there was the sweet. I accepted it, obviously, popped it in my mouth… and promptly realised I couldn’t speak any of my lines. It was a toffee bonbon. She was thrilled. I was useless. Theatre magic.

I loved being the fool. I loved the audience interaction, the joy, the cheekiness, the ridiculousness. I loved helping backstage, calming nerves, making sure people felt seen and safe. I loved watching kids grow in confidence (and talent) year after year, and adults rediscover parts of themselves they’d forgotten.

It mattered to me. The people mattered to me.

They still do.

When Things Change (And You Don’t)

This past year has been… a lot.

A house move after seven years. Friendships shifting. A court case few people know about. Work changes. Parenting changes. That strange, disorienting moment of asking “who am I when I stop reacting and start choosing?

I shan’t go on deary!

One thing I clung to was panto. The structure. The familiarity. The sense of home.

When the Curtain Falls, a Happy Ending….and lots of cast hugs.

But sometimes, quietly, subtly, places change.

And you notice the atmosphere feels different. You feel less seen. Less safe. Less able to ask questions or need support without it feeling like too much.

That being said, you can still be committed, 110%, heart and soul, and yet realise that something no longer fits the way it once did.

But, the show must go on!

A Line I Couldn’t Cross

I want to be very clear about something, for myself and for the people who might have felt I abandoned them, because clarity matters.

I didn’t walk away lightly. I didn’t get confused, flaky, or careless. I was upfront early on about a potential clash with my daughter’s first ever musical performance weekend, something I had flagged long before dates were confirmed. When the date landed, with her opening on the Friday dress rehearsal, I brought it up immediately. I tried to make it work.

Had it been a mistake on my part, I would have owned it. No drama. No disappearing. I would have helped however I could. I’d have still been there to support, still showed up however I could.

Unfortunately, when the only option left required me to choose between being present for my daughter,, or staying silent, swallowing discomfort and feeling so undervalued…..the choice was already made.

Family first isn’t a slogan. It’s a reality.

I had to choose between supporting my family, or my panto family.

And I was devastated.

But, stepping away wasn’t giving up. It was drawing a line with integrity.

And I still quietly showed up in ways that felt right to me.

Showing Up Anyway

Here’s the part I’m proud of.

Despite feeling incredibly nervous, not knowing what had been said or how I’d be received, I went to watch the closing show. I went because people I care about told me I was missed. Because I’d been asked about. Because the kids mattered. Because the cast mattered.

And it was lovely.

I finally got to watch people perform whom I had performed alongside for years. I was able to see the growth from small and shy to confident, beautiful, strong young people.

I was so, so proud.

After the curtain fell for the final time, the cast came out to see me, hugs, smiles, thanks, and a queue that made me feel so loved. I got to tell each and every one how proud I was of them, how fantastic they were, but more importantly, I got to show them that they mattered. That I didn’t just abandon them.

During those moments of sitting there, clapping until my hands hurt during the show, and listening to the cast talk to me after, I felt something settle.

Closure.

I supported the people who mattered to me. I honoured the memories. I said a proper goodbye, and I let the show have its happy ending.

And now, I get to have mine.

A Reminder

So, maybe this door closing was always the universe’s not-so-subtle way of saying;

“Go on then, make your own magic now!”

And maybe that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

Because this?

This is a whole new adventure.

The one where I take everything I’ve learned: the laughter, the chaos, the glue guns, the group chats, and use it to build something new.

Something of mine. Something that feels like home again.

Not all doors dramatically closing in your face are bad. Sometimes, they can be the push, or shove, you need.

So if you’re standing in front of a closed door right now, wondering if it’s the end, maybe it’s just the world giving you a gentle (or not-so-gentle) shove toward your next beginning.

And if it’s not gentle, just remember: glitter gets everywhere for a reason! (Whatever that may be!!)

What I’m Taking With Me

You can love something and still let it go.

You can be sad and still know it’s the right decision.

You are allowed to stand up for yourself without being dramatic.

You are allowed to walk away without burning the building down.

And brave doesn’t always look loud. Sometimes it looks like calm honesty, months later, when you’re ready.

I’m incredibly grateful for what panto gave me.

The laughter.

The growth.

The people.

The friends.

I’ll always carry those moments with warmth, and have the scrapbooks to prove it!

But I’m also choosing myself now.

Building my own world. Exploring new creative ideas.

Creating spaces that feel safe, respectful, and joyful , not just for others, but for me too.

This isn’t bitterness. It’s balance.

This isn’t an argument. It’s clarity.

And this – finally – feels like a happy ending.

✨ Curtain down. Next act loading. ✨

TPNF, Kyra x PS: Watching Chicago with my daughter in it was amazing and I was so so proud of her!!

Kyra Marie Is Me

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