Sims Holland has taken her one-woman powerhouse of a tragedy-comedy on quite a journey—from Los Angeles, to Off-Off Broadway in New York City, and now, full circle, back to her birthplace of Austin. The piece is directed and produced by her husband, David McCusker.
Sims describes her childhood as coming from “a loving household where I could do no wrong, had perfect scores in school, in sports, and was squeaky clean in every way.” Yet at school she was mostly invisible, known only as “the younger sister” of her beloved older brother.
That pedestal collapsed after a terrible car accident that left her brother in a coma. Though he survived, Sims’ carefully constructed world unraveled. The image of her protector—her savior—no longer holding her up sent her spiraling. From that point, she shed her squeaky-clean skin and plunged into debauchery, alcohol, and drugs.
“I was out on the town, getting my blackout on.”
At eighteen, she captured her descent with brutal honesty in that one searing line.
After high school, her travels began. First to New Orleans—“the home of jazz, good vibes, and gout”—then to South Carolina where she was miserable, and later to New York, Los Angeles, and beyond. Each move carried her deeper into chaos.
Her one-woman show lays it bare with raw, captivating candor. Onstage, she contorts herself into gumby-like caricatures of drunkenness and stupor. She weaves in poetry, rhyming in a way reminiscent of Dr. Seuss, landing hilarious punches amid the darkness. At one point, recalling her bulimia-fueled college years, she describes swallowing a toothbrush:
“A Crest 2006 Flex allowed me to do detailed sketches in my art class of my interior.”
This is not theatre for the faint of heart. Those who cling to squeaky-clean morality or polish their “image” may recoil. But anyone who has lived with addiction—whether personally or through someone they love—will feel the depths, laugh at the absurdity, and emerge shaken yet whole.
Her performance hit me personally. My mother was an alcoholic who turned mean when drunk. My brother, once addicted to heroin and later meth, lost 26 years to drugs before getting clean. Watching Sims’ story unfold, I recognized the same patterns—the raging, the manipulation, the strange narcissism of addicts, where life orbits around the next fix.
Unlike my brother, Sims had a strong family at her back. They placed her in rehab—unsuccessful at first—but never stopped supporting her. Eventually she met David, married, and had two children. She tells this part of her journey with humor, even acting out a phone call on a dangling baby toy phone, too small and ridiculous, as she relives rehab days. Embarrassed to poop in front of others, she alerted the nurse:
“Simsie no poops.”
Her show brims with such moments: unfiltered, unremorseful, absurd, and devastating. Yet through the wild antics, we see a woman ready at last to face herself, ready to learn what it means—messy, complicated, triumphant—to “human.”
Performances run thru Oct. 4, 2025 at the Hyde Park Theatre in Austin.
About the Artist
Sims Holland is a performer and writer whose autobiographical one-woman show Learning to Human has been staged in Los Angeles, New York, and Austin. Her work blends raw honesty with comedic brilliance, pushing audiences to confront addiction, family, and redemption with both laughter and tears.
About the Director
David McCusker is a director and producer with a background in theatre and film. His collaborative vision and creative partnership with Holland bring depth and daring to Learning to Human, amplifying its balance of humor, heartbreak, and humanity.