Somewhere beyond the atmosphere of my former job, beyond the influence of my old theater company, and everyone I knew at both places, I'm floating out in the middle of nowhere, looking for a new home and the next version of me. For years, I have been as people have seen me, defined in familiar terms, within safe limits, and independent by choice. I have floated in pools of ideas that sparked like synapses, I have run the gauntlet of doubt from everyone around me, and the whole time, I have worked my ass off to rise above. Rise above what? Everything. Everything and everyone. Only from the top can you see far.
Right now, however, I can see in every direction, because I am completely alone, in control of the next step, knowing fully I could choose to do anything right now. I could move to another city and start completely from scratch. I could choose to be something entirely new, putting everything creative I've done behind me, burying it in my past. I could do that, but...I need to know what's next. I have been growing and expanding in this same patch of land for years, and I need to know what happens if I expand again. It's intimidating and so much bigger than me, because...well, if I've reached this plateau and there's nothing here for me, then all of the sacrifices I've made have been for nothing.
That's what I'm carrying; I have worked 40% of the time with a lot of people and 60% of the time alone, reinventing and studying, writing and revising, singularly focused on the how and the why while others have enjoyed life spending time with friends, having families and attending birthdays. I've been so lucky to have a life where I haven't had to say that I wish I could, or that it would be nice if someday I could do something creatively. I've done everything I've imagined I wanted to do, and outside of career, I could easily see the next step. But now, I am staring straight at the future like a huge tornado that I need to run straight towards. I need to swallow the fear, bleed a little, and try to lock down that presence of mind that found me constantly creating. I need to set the hopeless romantic in me aside for a moment and engage the fight. Some say this is just unemployment. I see it as war.
For eleven days, I have wrapped myself in reinvention, evaluating myself on paper and letting go. I've seen everything I knew become unfamiliar parts of my past. I've marked the end of my 30s, simplified my life, and have been very focused on not wasting a single day. It would be so easy for me to be lazy, to just sit and wait, hoping for something to come along. It would be too convenient to give up, to narrow my options to the point where I can justify doing nothing. I've been there before. I'm not there now.
Know this: I'm scared about the prospect of doing this alone. I'm really uncomfortable about moving backwards, about encountering the feeling that I've lost something in the process.
But...
At the same time, I'm anxious and excited, selfless enough to listen to the experts I'm meeting and trust their advice completely. I'm optimistic and encouraged by my past, writing this mostly to throw a rock down at this point in time to mark where I am and hopefully look back someday to see that this is where I made my stand. This is where I chose to acknowledge the fear and doubt, and then leap into the unknown anyway.
That's all there is. This is the week I've begun to step out into it.
