The last time I blogged was on September 4th. That’s gross, and I’m sorry. Life lately has not been a rollercoaster of emotions, but more like a Tower of Terror of emotions. Let me explain.
Rollercoasters have ups and downs and twists and turns, but, for the most part, they’re fun and I laugh the entire way through them. If life were really like a rollercoaster, you wouldn’t experience those moments of everything dropping out from under you and you’re left trying to gasp for breath. Life, instead, resembles more of a Tower of Terror type of feel, right? So you’re creeping up higher and higher at a steady rate, going through life, noticing the changes, but not feeling their weight, and then all of a sudden, the floor beneath you falls out and you’re free falling, screaming your face off, and then you’re jolted, come to a stop, and start creeping back up.
It has it’s highs, it has it’s lows, it has it’s moments of screaming for help, and then it has it’s moments of safety.
On the date of my last posting, it was opening night for the show I was working on, One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest with The NOLA Project. I was acting, meeting new people, and in a relationship with the same guy I had been dating since I was 20. I was creeping up on the Tower of Terror, enjoying the view in front of me, yet waiting for the “Oh shit” moment, but not letting it cloud my present joy.
The show’s run went swimmingly, and I am forever grateful for the experience, even to this day, a month and twenty days later.
On the final weekend of Cuckoo’s Nest, the post-show blues started to set in. It happens with me after every single show. You spend a couple of months of your life immersed in a collaborative art, then you have a closing show, and then it’s over. The only real cure, from what I’ve noticed, is to begin working on another show. In my case, I distracted myself by seeing a lot of theatre, which is equally as amazing.
Two days before Cuckoo’s Nest closed, my relationship of 3 1/2 years ended. It was a mutual decision, which made it hurt much more. It wasn’t one of those, “YOU’RE AN ASSHOLE. BYE.” moments. It was one of those, “You’re my best friend, but it’s time to say goodbye.” moments. And I cried. A lot. And I ate ice cream. And I drank wine. And I spent time with nature. And I talked to my girlfriends. And I bought $200 leather boots. And I moved on.
I experienced the floor beneath me completely fall out, and, dammit, I was this close to smacking down hard on the concrete floor. But I didn’t, because, at the moment that I thought my life would never turn around, it did.
I began to make plans. Plans with friends. Plans with family. Plans for my life.
I’m still writing for Red Beans and Life, and it’s good. I’m currently casting a staged reading of a play that I’m directing in November, and that’s good. I’m preparing for not one, but two auditions for next week, and both of those things are good. And I’m gathering material for auditions for conservatories in New York City, and that, my friends, is good.
Sometimes I have these thoughts that my life is pointless because I’m single. I know how completely stupid that sounds, but sometimes I have those thoughts. I feel like since my relationship ended, I’ve become a failure. When people find out, the first thing they always say is, “Oh, I’m so sorry.” The first thing I always say in response is, “Why?”
Why are you sorry, and what are you sorry for?
Are you sorry that I’m rediscovering how to live life on my own? Are you sorry that I’m no longer in a relationship that wasn’t fulfilling to either one of us? Are you sorry that I don’t have a go-to person to run errands with, go to dinner with, or see movies with? What are you sorry for?
I was sorry for about a week. I felt sorry for myself. I pitied myself. But then I woke the fuck up and started living life for me, and that is a beautiful, beautiful thing.
I’m seeing theatre now. I’m grabbing drinks with friends now. I’m running in Audubon now. I’m painting my nails now. I’m treating myself to nice things now. I’m saying yes to the possibility of dating now. I’m spending time with family now. I’m making plans for MY future now. My future. Not a future with another person factored in. Mine.
I’m happy now. I’m happier now. I’m different now, but I’m happier now.
Do I miss the security of a relationship sometimes? Of course. But I love my freedom even more. Do I miss my best friend sometimes? Of course. But I love seeing all of my other friends and making new friends more. Do I miss the past sometimes? Of course. But I’m loving my future more.
So this is where I am now. I’m 23. I’m single. And I’m living my life for myself. Sometimes I’m lonely, but sometimes I was lonely when I was in a relationship. I have to remember that no one else can live my life for me. No one else can bring me ultimate happiness but me. Most importantly, I have to love myself before I can allow anyone else to love me, and, most importantly, before I can love anyone else.
Before I close this post, I want to shout out to one of my most favorite bloggers, Allie. I read this post today that truly was inspiring. She’s a rockstar. Read her blog.
Thank you to everyone for your support and love.
Talk to y’all soon,