Sexy Times- Totally Not Depressing…

Reflections on Failure

I have been living at home with my parents for 3 months now, and of course it has many upsides, like the beautiful surroundings, delicious meals, and most importantly, uninterrupted family time! But of course, you don’t quit your entire life in California and move back under your parent’s roof to reflect on your failures without a good amount of… how should I put this… fucked upedness.

After 10 years of trying (and not succeeding) at making a living doing what I love, it was hard to maintain self-esteem, and to avoid looking at the past as anything but my inability to accomplish what I want.

This was especially true now, because part of the reason why I had moved home was to try and establish myself as a freelance writer. I have always loved writing, the same as I have always loved acting, and it was particularly appealing to me now because I could do it from anywhere and could write about anything I wanted. Not to mention, when I do return to the hustle of the filmmaking industry, writing will be a much more fulfilling way to hustle than my previous restaurant work, or nannying.

Unfortunately, it started off a frustrating mess of trying to figure out where to begin. I read a ton of advice and “How-To” articles. I started writing articles of my own about my favorite subject, sex love and relationships (which I will start posting on here soon) and then I built up a list of who to pitch my articles to. I tried not to be too disheartened when my stalker-y email app revealed, not that my pitches were being rejected, but that my emails weren’t even being opened.

It felt like I was banging my head against the wall again and again, and all my favorite demons came out to play.

I turned my focus again to the face that I had turned 30 last year, and the impact that surprisingly had on my psyche. Not only did my body change (I have a theory that it is preparing for a pregnancy that it’s sure will come, but definitely wont, and once I disappoint it it’ll give up hope and shrink back down) but all of sudden, it no longer felt like I could say things like “I have my whole life ahead of me!” True, I thought long and hard about the decision to move home, and I had to remember that I had damn good reasons to do so. Not only did I want a break and to be closer to my family, but I wanted to save my money so I could finally do some traveling and see the world, but it’s very hard to keep that in mind when you’re alone at 9:30 pm because your parents, who are the only people you’ve talked to in days have gone to bed and you have no prospects on the horizon like you thought you would so you hang out with your real friends, Michael, Dwight, Jim and Pam for the 500^th time because they’re always there for you no matter what.

The first time I felt excitement… REAL excitement, was when I was invited to apply for a job as a writer for a legal sex worker named Alice Little. I was to use the prompt “how sex workers can help with the worldwide loneliness epidemic” to write an informative article that also advertised sex workers. A handful of applicants and I received the assignment, and would be hired full-time based on our essays. I stayed up all night researching, and reading all of her fascinating articles, trying to absorb her tone and all the wonderful, sex-positive information she displayed. I wrote my article the next morning and I was confident. I knew I had a weekend of babysitting ahead, so I made sure it was in tiptop shape and I sent it in before the deadline. I wanted to show that I could turn an article around in a timely fashion, since we would be expected to write 2 articles per week and my past experience wasn’t very strong. I wanted to prove myself with action.

Over the next few days, I anticipated getting a response. They were going to send notes on Monday that I would have to implement by Wednesday. I tried not to get overly excited, but I couldn’t help but feel like I was on the right path. I didn’t even know an opportunity like this could exist! Not only would this help fund my travels, I would actually become a real life sexpert! For the first time since moving home, I was filled with hope. In some way, I felt like getting this job could justify all of my past failures, giving them purpose.

Monday came. I was in Miami visiting a girlfriend of mine who was in town from France. I had debated in my head whether or not to mention the job prospect, and finally I couldn’t help it. I was giddy with excitement about the opportunity!

Within minutes of mentioning it, I got the email. I opened it…

And read the all-too familiar words about it “not being a good fit.” I didn’t even get the opportunity to implement notes. I was brutally wounded, trying not to totally break down within hours of meeting my friend who came all this way. I was lucky I wasn’t home alone to dwell, but just like that all the optimism drained out of me as I shifted back to square one.

Slowly but surely I began to build myself back up. I know from my past that I can be too hard on myself, and have high expectations that result in disappointing outcomes. I knew that coming home wasn’t going to be all sunshine and daisies. God, how I love sunshine and daisies, though.

I had lunch with my very successful, beautiful sister Lindsay (I’ll refrain from calling her perfect because we all have our shit (but she’s perfect)) and among the slew of advice that I’d been receiving by her and everyone else who wanted to fix me, one piece of great advice stood out. It was to look back on all the choices I had made over the last 10 years, analyze them and figure out what was driving them, and see what I might do differently if I could go back. At first, I resisted a bit, tempted to blame circumstances outside of my control, and reluctant to admit any “regrets” that I had. I didn’t typically regret choices, or feel like “if only I did this one thing, then everything would be different.” Eventually, though, I recalled one opportunity that I did not take.

About 2 years after moving to Los Angeles, I was presented with the  opportunity to project manage the Dali Lama’s Global 80’s Birthday Celebration. That’s right, the Dali Lama came knocking at my freaking door and I passed. It was a unique chance that I got after working at a photography booth at Coachella earlier that year. I got along really well with the team, particularly one woman who was a producer on the project. We loved working together, and she recommended me to a friend for the job.

At the time, I had solid excuses not to do it, like I had just gotten a new restaurant job that would finally lead to a stable and consistent income after 2 years of filtering through 9 bullshit jobs! But when I looked back, I know deep down that I made the decision out of fear that I would mess it up, and not be able to rise to the occasion. It was the scary choice, and I took the safe road.

This doesn’t necessarily mean that I wish I had taken that job, because so many wonderful experiences and people wouldn’t have come into my life if I had made that choice. But once I saw that, I realized how frequently it was that my tendency is to lean towards comfortable choices out of fear that I’m going to be bad at something, or fail. I guess the Dali Lama still had something to offer me from that experience, after all.

A series of epiphanies followed. For instance, did I really truly think that I wouldn’t rise to the occasion if I were in a new, unfamiliar position? The overwhelming evidence seemed to suggest otherwise. So many times, I have anticipated my inability to rise to the occasion and it leaves me stagnant, which is fine because then I never have to deal with feeling uncomfortable.

Upon coming to terms with this, I actually laughed out loud because it meant that I had more control over my circumstances than I thought I did. For the first time in months, I realized that this wasn’t some cornerstone behavior that I would never be able to overcome, but something tangible, that I could point to and name, and now that I was aware of it I had the freedom to change.

That’s when I solidified my decision to start this blog… because I knew that if I truly trusted myself to rise to the occasion, that this is what I wanted to do. I hoped, and betted on myself that I might have something worth sharing with the world. I stopped myself from looking into the future and prematurely determining that I would fail, and instead looked at all the reasons why I could achieve this.

Full disclosure, I don’t really know what I’m doing yet, but these days I’m imagining (which is all we can do) that I will rise to the occasion.

After releasing my first blog post, and receiving so much encouraging feedback whether on here, or Instagram, or Facebook, it lifted my spirits to a place I didn’t know possible and it was the fuel I needed to push myself forward and keep going.

So truly, from the bottom of my heart, thank you to everyone who keeps reading.