This used to be a travel blog, and it still is in a way, I suppose. Except…my travels have brought me to, well, nowhere. I’m back in the house I grew up in, lying down in my childhood bed. Everything is the same. And yet nothing is.
I traveled for five months not because it was something I particularly wanted to do, but because I didn’t know where else to turn. I was searching for something, some sort of direction in my life, and yet somehow, I wasn’t lost. I felt so content and at ease. I felt like I had purpose, like I was accomplishing…something.
Today hasn’t been the easiest. I’m so incredibly discouraged. I’ve spent my whole life trying to do something that I’m good at—performing—and I’m finally confident that I AM good at it. But that’s not enough. You need people to hire you. And most of the time, it’s not based on talent. And most of the time, I haven’t felt successful. It’s hard, being an artist. I’m sick of trying and trying and trying and getting nowhere. I’m burnt out.
So when I discovered this world of indie writing, I thought maybe this was a new way I could find success. I’ve always loved writing, but never thought I could be successful at it, because the publishing industry is nuts. But when you can publish your own stuff, there’s nobody telling you what to do. You’re not waiting to be hired…you just make it, and it goes directly to consumers.
I didn’t think it would be easy, and I certainly didn’t think I would be wildly successful. What I didn’t expect was how emotionally invested I would become. My anxiety about the acting world just got transferred over to this…and for the millionth time, I feel like I’m failing. I wrote and published a book…yay! I should be excited! Instead, I’m back to feeling lost again. Hooray. Because…now what?
Do I stay living here with my parents, write a few more books, cross my fingers that one of them takes off and I can actually make a living doing this? Do I sacrifice my independence, put a hold on my other dreams, to pursue this one?
Do I get an apartment here, where it’s affordable, and start trying to piece together a life and a living? Even though it would cost me a whole lot of money that I don’t have?
Do I follow people’s advice and get a job? Even though it would mean taking precious hours away from my writing, from all the things I’ve learned? I could save money faster, and quicken my move to a city more appropriate for an actor. But I would be essentially abandoning my writing.
Ideally, I would make enough money writing to survive off of, and be able to move across the country and continue pursuing my acting dream there. But. As I’ve learned over time, the ideal doesn’t usually work out so well.
So here I am. Trying to embrace my mantra, “yes to nowhere,” and truly say yes to this terrifying unknown that is so much scarier than backpacking alone.
And now, after discovering that one of my goals was to write a publish a book, after DOING it, after finding a new goal of continuing my writing that I want to pursue, I’m back to being lost again. Hooray.