Sexy Times- Totally Not Depressing…

Being home has been quite an emotional journey.

At first, the biggest personal struggle that I faced was not feeling like a failure.

It felt very true. Revisiting the memories and remembering the mental state I was in still evokes sadness in me. It felt like the evidence was clear. At a glance, all I saw was that I was humiliatingly broke, financially unsuccessful in my artistic endeavors, and living at home (even though moving home was a choice I made- not a necessity.)

I had some job opportunities – but neither panned out. Somewhere in me, I knew that this was part of the process, and when I look back, even though I didn’t actually land the job, somewhere buried deep was a sense of pride that I was even considered. After all, I was just starting out as a freelance writer. It was bound to take some time.

Of course, this didn’t stop me from feeling shitty with each rejection- almost waiting to fail at this like I (seemingly) have failed at everything else.

All this was sitting comfortably in the back of my mind while I uncomfortably walked through life’s experiences. It affected everything.

As with any family, my mom, sister and I like to talk about my adorable 5 year-old niece. I have heard my mom and sister  (and one million other people) say that she reminds them of me. Of course, I didn’t quite understand how they meant.

My niece is adorable, super talkative and outgoing, loves playing dress up and is an amazing performer. Her facial expressions alone during the performances of an impromptu musical number from Hamilton are dramatic, sincere and passionate. She has no problem demanding and receiving the attention of everyone in her presence.

And I felt so small.

I had become so disappointed by- and anxious about- my experience with acting and performing that it seemed impossible that I ever could have been that confident and uninhibited. During the last couple of years auditioning, I would feel oncoming panic attacks when exiting the room. Even being in the same room as someone with a degree of success made my insides shrivel up with feelings of unworthiness.

It just felt like, if I had ever really been that way when I was young, then I would have been “successful” by now, or at least would have enjoyed the pursuit.

But when I dug even deeper, I saw more ugly truths. I finally had to face the fact that the reason why I had become so averse to acting was because deep down, I just didn’t believe in myself anymore. And it went beyond not believing in my talent. I didn’t even believe in myself as a person.

How is a person who holds that belief about themselves ever going to succeed at anything???

Of course, this triggered more substantial breakdowns. I had to really face the fact that, for some reason, I kinda hated myself. I thought so lowly of myself that even the experience of watching this glorious and heartfelt performance from my niece was darkened. Admitting that, even now, is hard.

Perhaps it was that subtle recognition of how far gone I was that caused something to shift. I was finally so starkly aware of what I was doing to myself that I could see clearly how this one thought was bleeding into my entire existence.

When I shifted my perspective, after realizing how tilted it had been, my life subtly started changing.

Not necessarily externally, (although there were some positive developments there, too) but from the inside.

I began to meditate again. It helped me become present and more connected to others and myself. I realized that I was more than just my circumstance… even more than my thoughts. Underneath everything, I was simple, pure life. Little things made me happy and appreciative. And, you know, I’m one with the universe and all that. No big deal.

When I started to feel unafraid, suddenly, watching my niece on a (real or imaginary) stage was so, purely blissful that I would have tears in my eyes, before she even started. Every time I watch her, she reacquaints me with the deep-rooted joy I feel towards performing… creating, storytelling, and the like. Watching her makes me a more confident person, because now, I do see a bit of myself in her.

My closest friends told me in passing they felt that I never gave up on my dreams. Maybe that’s what has led me to poverty. Not the “fact” that I suck. After all, isn’t being broke part of an artist’s plight? Is that really the worst thing? My perspective shifted further.

I suddenly realized that I had three new jobs, besides babysitting: a guest blogger for gorgeousmindset.com (an inspirational blog for women;) a staff blogger for North Hamptons Couple Therapy, and, of course, working desk at Pure Barre (where I’m basically getting paid to work out.) And, I’m relieved to say my pilot script is coming along.

I’m less then one month away from boarding a plane with a carry-on bag and a one-way ticket to Italy. I have no idea what my life will look like when I come back, or where my life will take me until then.

But I can say confidently that if I choose to return to the pursuit of acting, or anything in entertainment, I will do so with a thicker skin, sense of belonging and acceptance, and patience for myself. And joy.

And if I choose to stay abroad, discovering what life is like in new places, I will do so knowing that it’s not because I am afraid of my dreams.

Because for the first time in a long time, I accept, and even quite like who I am.