'I Was Canceled, It Turned My Life Upside Down'

I made mistakes, it caught attention, and it spread like wildfire all over the web. It's now there forever. Last year my life fell apart when a group of my employees approached their connection at a local news outlet to investigate me, regarding my position as managing director of the University of Utah's Pioneer Theatre Company in Salt Lake City. The local news source revealed I had exaggerated certain elements of my résumé.

The fabrications on my résumé, of which I feel great shame, were a handful of accolades—such as being a two-time Tony nominee for two Broadway shows on which I had only been an associate producer, and winning video game awards for projects in which I wasn't involved. I had also claimed to have received a master's degree. In earnest, I had pursued a M.A./B.A. track in college and truly believed I had racked up enough graduate credits before commencement to earn the M.A..

When the story first broke in June, I was at a mental health facility, and had been an in-patient for about a week. There were numerous complications in my life, including a dying mother, becoming a father for the first time, and juggling multiple full-time jobs at Pioneer Theatre Company due to new Covid-19 compliance requirements and a university-wide hiring-freeze. When the news reached me, I was completely shattered. I wanted to crawl up in a ball and just disappear from the surface of the earth.

I couldn't see a future, let alone a way out of the shame, remorse, fear, and anxiety my public blunder had caused. I thought to myself: It's all over, everything I've worked towards has come to an end. It was a pretty convincing feeling.

The media's angle painted me as a scam artist who had been under-qualified for my position. It negated the excellent work I had done in my career up until that point, including my almost seven-year-long tenure as an executive with the National Yiddish Theater Folksbiene in New York.

I was terrified to go out in public. Following the news report, locals were furious, and expressed their dissatisfaction with me on the streets, telling me to leave the state, yelling "fraud" at me from their cars—and in some instances, even threatening me. It was clear that my family and I could no longer reside in Salt Lake City.

I resigned from my position and planned with my family to return to New York. My family's support network is largely situated in the North-east; I wanted to be closer to our family—my mother died in the midst of the media circus—and to be able to assist my aging in-laws on a daily basis.

However the most essential reason to leave Pioneer and Utah behind was to take care of my mental health. I've fought with mental illness my entire life. I live with severe major depression, PTSD, and Cluster B personality disorder. I've been afraid to bring it to light because of the negative stigma attached to mental illness.

As part of my diagnoses, when I am in mental distress, I create fabrications to help build myself up, since that self-esteem by itself doesn't exist. I have never felt "good enough" for myself or anyone else. That is something with which I still very much struggle. I compensated in the only way I knew how to: I created my own reality, and eventually that spilled into my work.

After my fabrications were exposed, I became a pariah in my industry, and a disappointment to those who knew me. Many of my industry colleagues jumped on the bandwagon; former employees shunned me, and even folks I had known and worked with for over 15 years weren't returning my calls. I felt deflated, empty, and alone. Hardest of all was nobody wanted to hear my side of the story. I was the most alone I'd ever been. But, in the end, I was the only one to blame.

Friends and family were saddened and shocked to learn the news and read my resignation statement. For many, it was the first time they learned about my mental health issues. It was hard for most to reconcile the Chris they knew with the Chris portrayed in the media. Numerous people I considered friends ghosted me. That was hard for me to swallow, but I ultimately respected their choice. It took a lot of humbling for me to grasp the full impact of my actions.

The financial impact of me leaving my job was devastating for my family. My wife and I were both accustomed to working in order to provide for our family. We were fortunate in that my wife's employer kept her on remotely, but following the news reporting on me, I was essentially unemployable. Recruiters wouldn't take me on. Companies that I applied to expressed concerns about my hiring and would not move forward in the process. Even people who I had invested in and elevated in previous roles would not take a chance on me.

Over the past year, the trolls have been merciless. They don't care that I'm suffering because they believe I deserve it. Some of the more disturbing comments suggested I be tarred and feathered; that I be thrown in jail, to rot, without bail; that I should never be allowed to work in the industry again; and that I am comparable to some of the most renowned and destructive criminals of our time like Bernie Madoff. I've read all of the comments out there—or at least, all of the comments I've been able to find on the matter. I knew better than to engage in the comments, but in making that choice I lost any sense of self. I felt helpless, and was voiceless.

Yet the biggest thing I lost in being publicly shamed is time. I had to start again and regain people's trust—both in the professional sphere and with those who are closest to me. It has taken over a year of hard conversations, but friendships have started to re-strengthen and trust has started to be rebuilt.

During much of the last year, my career was also at a standstill. But the upside was that I used the time I lost professionally to clear the air with those nearest and dearest to me, taking responsibility for what I had done, and reinventing my life. I'm now an active dad to an 18-month old, a present husband to my wife, and a helping hand within my community—assisting my father-in-law with town-wide construction work, pet sitting, and being an agent of positive change through my Bible study group. That's a lot, but it's not exactly financially contributing to my family.

I am fortunate to have revived some of my professional relationships. I am an executive producer of an upcoming feature film, The Inventor; I am a contributor for Entrepreneur; I've been involved in business development consulting; and I am engaged in the early stages of a few new and exciting projects. Plus, the re-evaluation of my life has helped me rediscover my lost passion of writing and music composition—which I had given up on years ago.

It took about nine months for me to start to find confidence again, and a year for me to pull professional bearings back on track. I'm now on a different path, with different life goals: sharing in authentic, strong relationships, loving my work, and being appreciative of the moment.

I am becoming happy again. I am learning that I'm "good enough." In doing the hard work on myself necessary to make change occur, I have not only vastly increased my emotional endurance, I have also started to achieve in ways I had never before considered. I will likely always walk with the shame of what happened last year. The difference is that now, instead of hiding, I'm growing from it.

Christopher Massimine is a recovering entertainment executive, father, and husband. He is CEO of Imagine Tomorrow, wherein he sources capital for creative projects and consults on business development and marketing; he is also a writer, a theatermaker, and executive producer of the upcoming film, The Inventor.

All views expressed in this article are the author's own.