I’ve been a little absent from my blog recently, but that seems to parallel my life.
(I know, I know; it sounds a bit melodramatic.)
A couple months ago during a somewhat dark-ish period of time in my life, I decided I needed to get out of New York and detach from everything. Naturally, I called my mother and told her I needed a summer vacation sometime in June-ish, and I either wanted to come home to Missouri or go visit my brother in Los Angeles. I figured I had the money to buy a plane ticket to one or the other place, but she insisted that she and my father would pay for me to come home for a couple weeks.
Things eventually got better for me, and I started feeling like my old optimistic self again, but I still felt strangely blasé about work and auditions. It even started to feel like spending time with some of my friends was an obligation rather than a choice. The world around me was moving forward in a blur, but I felt immovable. It seemed as though everyone around me had found some sort of direction, and I had no direction at all.
As I got closer to my vacation date, I withdrew more. I grew tired of fighting my own inner restlessness, trying to keep it at bay. Indifference was easy, so I chose to be indifferent. I chose to be a little absent from my own life.
Now I’m in my old bedroom at home in Missouri, and everything suddenly looks different. This time last year, I was slaving away for hours and hours at the winery nearly every day, trying to make enough money to move to New York in the early fall. Here I am back where I started and feeling nostalgic for last summer. It’s so nice to not have to worry about money and to have a full fridge at my disposal. My parents take me to movies and shopping and out to dinner. I get to drive (Sadly not MY car as it was sold back in February. RIP the Green Machine.) around town and control what time I get places. My BFF Nicole comes over on Wednesday nights to watch So You Think You Can Dance, and we yell our criticisms at the TV over margaritas and chips. It’s so easy to slip back into this life. To pretend the last nine months didn’t happen.
But they did. And in six days, I’ll be going back to New York where the last nine months happened. And I have barely anything in my fridge (or my bank account for that matter). Where I take the train five or six times a day. Where I hardly ever go shopping (except for groceries). Where I watch SYTYCD alone on my couch and HeyTell/text Nicole my commentary. This life is not so easy to slip back into.
While I’ve been here in Missouri though, I’ve been thinking about a million things: life, the future, what I’ve accomplished so far, what I haven’t accomplished, where I want to be in ten years, relationships, my career, who I want to be. I’m so restless right now. I never want to be where I am; I always want to be somewhere else. There are times when all I want to do is just pack a bag and disappear in the mountains of Montana or explore tiny French towns. I want adventure and an escape.
But then I asked myself if I’m restless because I’m unhappy. And I don’t know the answer to that. I know I’m definitely not exactly doing what I want to be doing, and that has to change. But at the same time, I don’t know if music theatre is even what I want to do anymore…or at least, right now. Things that felt so certain a year ago don’t feel that way anymore. I’m not giving up, but I know something needs to change. I need to change.
Being away from New York has allowed me to have some perspective, and it’s made me realize how much more important other things are: family, friends, enjoying life. When I’m in New York, so much revolves around either how I’m paying the bills or trying to get acting jobs. I want a LIFE, and I am driving myself crazy with worry about too many things that aren’t that important in the grand scheme of things.
So I’ll go back to New York in six days because I have to. I hope it’s also because I WANT to. It’s just been…hard.
“It’s supposed to be hard. If it wasn’t hard, everyone would do it. The hard…is what makes it great.”
– Jimmy Dugan, A League of Their Own
I sincerely hope Jimmy Dugan is right.