the gift of life

The Organ Trail is finished.

Something I never thought I’d say. I’ve been working on this documentary for more than a year now, and I’m starting to feel the only reason I haven’t finished it yet is that, maybe, I’m afraid to. Back in 2023, I told everyone that I was working on a new project that many people had their eyeballs on and you’ll never guess what it was about—a man walking into a bar. It was my master’s thesis project.

I promised a full-length documentary, and hyped it up to friends—everything filmmakers are supposed to do. But after I’d gotten started, I got sick. Not a lying-in-bed-sick, but a sick-of-looking-at-my-footage kind of sick. So I stopped doing the whole editing thing for a while and the sickness eventually went away. I didn’t hate looking at my footage. I was starting to feel creative again. But some things didn’t go back to normal. I had this crazy brain fog thing, and no matter what I did I just couldn’t shake it. 

It felt like I was indefinitely mentally jetlagged and tired but in this nebulous, intangible sort of way that I couldn’t pinpoint. I never felt like that in my entire life. As stupid or weak as it probably sounds in retrospect, I was pretty scared. The prevailing piece of advice I heard went something like this: as long as it doesn’t get worse just do something else in the meantime. So I did just that, hopping around from project to project, ignoring a convoluted timeline, hoping that tomorrow maybe I’ll feel normal again.

16 Texas state parks, 3 Louisiana state parks, 1,543 miles, 36 days of production/travel, 1 year and 7 months of editing, 20 interviews, 18 events, and nearly an endless list of people associated with the trip, and I’m still worried that you’re going to figure out that I’m stupid. An imposter that doesn't know how to make stories or never could, to begin with. That everything was just a fluke. But that reality can’t exist until I finish it, so… I just haven’t been. It’s just the expectations of whatever this was supposed to be became so insurmountable in my head that there’s nothing I could make that would justify a year of work—let alone over half a year of editing, but I swear I’ve spent so much of it trying.

I’ve always assigned my value to whatever ability I have to entertain others or create entertainment for them because I never felt like I had much substance otherwise. When I retreat from making things, I retreat in my personal life as well, only coming around when I have something new to show because I worry that if I don’t, people I like will get tired of me. I’ve spent months now ducking messages and ignoring plans because I’ve been chipping away at this never-ending documentary that is ever more likely to get sealed away in a vault. 

I kept throwing myself at this wall, you know? And questioning if it’s even worth it. What if other filmmakers don’t like the piece? What if the composition of the shots offended cinematographers? Will people notice that I tried? I’ve put as much of myself into this as I can and I still feel like it isn’t enough, like I’m playing a trick on you or like I need to defend myself against this made-up person who’s just a combination of every negative comment I’ve ever gotten when they probably would have found a reason to dislike it anyways. 

I’m not very good at processing change or the prospect of change. It’s something I’ve always struggled with, and I think that’s why the more time I spent with The Organ Trail, the more it became a source of comfort for me despite how stressed I felt about it. I find solace in things I can make knowable. I’ve always coped with anxiety that way, and making documentaries has given me an outlet for it by finding subjects to sink into and then trying to learn everything there is to know about them. And now, I know every detail about living kidney donation. 

13 people die every day in the United States due to a lack of kidney donors/transplants. If 10-15 out of every 10,000 people would become a living donor, we could eradicate the waiting list immediately. Living kidney donations last approximately twice as long as deceased donated kidneys effectively reducing the amount of times a recipient needs to go through procedures. 

I can’t stay here any longer, so I’m done. This is my final draft and if it turns out that it’s mediocre then that’s alright with me. 

The Organ Trail is one of my favorite productions I’ve done in a long time, not because it propelled my career but because it genuinely highlights a very real issue in our world today. If you take anything away from this, please let it be that The Organ Trail shot above its weight class to prove to the world that we need to start advocating for living kidney donation. I’m genuinely thankful to Mark & Lynn Scotch, Sara Weichman, Gemma Folsom, and Logan Whiteman for gifting me their time and assistance in a world that I’ve spent so much time in, even if I might have overstayed my welcome. 

It’s been said before that documentaries are a mirror held up to society, reflecting our strengths and weaknesses, and I think that’s why The Organ Trail is so important to me. Not because I think it’s been constructed without flaw but because it tries to capture the essence of hope. A hope that people are good and are willing to altruistically help each other. 

As we approach the release date, I say my goodbye to The Organ Trail, and as I enter the new year myself, I’ve come to terms with its existence. The Organ Trail reaches its end the same way it began, as a glimpse into a world filled with hope where anything and everything is possible. A world where our past doesn’t dictate how we treat others and how even a stranger can save a life. Maybe the true meaning of the documentary was never meant to be a story of 1,543 miles but an optimistic letter to the future carried by a bicycle and a couple of bags. 

Happy New Year, Everyone.