A Return in Five Acts

You may have noticed that I disappeared for awhile.

It wasn’t a bad thing, it wasn’t a good thing, I just think, for awhile, I needed to live my life as it happened, and then, of course, life got busy and complicated and in the way and the writing thing got pushed to the back burned and suddenly, it’s almost February and I haven’t written since what, September?

Jesus.

Life has changed, dramatically since September in ways that I never imagined. I like to think that someday, when I’m very old, I will have these blogs recorded (somehow), and they will remind me of the time I was 25 and had no idea what I was doing with my life.

Also, too, my life is changing drastically, and will be changing even more drastically in the upcoming months, and I want a record of it, for posterity and for the folks at home, so I have decided the best way to play catch up is to backtrack to the very beginning of this crazy journey and write it all down.

So, I sat down and realized that the past five months or so have conveniently divided themselves into  a lovely sort of Shakespearean five-act play. Because of course that ‘s how life would work out. I doubt I will finish all of this tonight, but I feel the need to write some of this down before it falls out of my head.

Also important to the story, some of this overlaps, some of it is ramblings and some of it I just need to get off of my chest.

Act 1. The Truth
So, back in August, I wrote a little bit about taking a risk, and how I knew, deep down, that I had to know what was going to happen, and that maybe it will all work out. Hold on until Act 3, we’ll get to that.

Anyway, I think the truth, for me, was two-fold. First, there were some big truths that I was having a very hard time admitting to myself, namely, that I wasn’t happy. I wasn’t happy in a lot of ways, and it kept bleeding through the cracks. My “tell”, as it were, has always been audition notices. Whenever I am stressed, or unhappy, or dissatisfied, or uninspired, I check audition notices, all over the world. I’ve done it for years, but suddenly, every day, for longer than I care to admit, I would pour over audition notices, playing the “what if” game about “what if I went for this”, “what if I got the part”, “what would happen”?

It took me a really long time to admit that maybe what I thought I wanted, what I thought would be happy with, wasn’t what I wanted at all. The life I was living was not the one that was calling to me, and I knew it, and my silly audition notices were the “out” to the world that I really wanted to be a part of.

It wasn’t about the show or the theatre or the role or the company, it was about potential I think, the possibility that I had some semblance of control over my own destiny, that if I wanted, I could Do Something I Wanted to Do…but then, one day, I happened upon what was maybe the most perfect audition I had ever heard of: a call for actors at a Shakespeare company that I basically consider holy ground, looking for actors with musical talent on acoustic instruments, with experience in Shakespeare, comfortable in a style of theatre where audience interaction occurs/they play with the lights on, improv experience a plus, and, oh, by the way, girls who don’t mind playing boys.

So… Me?

I agonized for a good long while because the real truth though, was that I was too scared to see what would happen. Finally, though, I realized, as I have written before, that I had to go for this. I had to know what would happen, and I think, the biggest realization of all– that I was ready for this, I have been, maybe, for a long time, and now, this was my chance. The only listed audition I was able to attend was in about three weeks, and so I busted my ass to get my resume updated, pulled together a cohesive teaching artist and design resume and realized that holy shit, on paper, I totally looked qualified for this job. Whether or not I FELT in any way qualified will become very important to the story later on, but I knew that I had to send this. I had to know what happened.

That truth was terrifying. Either way, whether or not I got what I wanted, this was a step towards a future that was far less certain than anything I’d planned on. Here I was, with my safe job and my safe relationship in my safe world, looking beyond the horizon to this fantastic dream that I was too scared to admit how deeply I wanted it, because, well, I didn’t want to get my heart broken.

So on August 8th at 8:14 in the evening I drove to HyVee and scrounged up $20 to express-mail my headshot and resume to the People Who Do Shakespeare, and then, I waited.

Act 2. Loss, Armor and Shakespeare.

September of 2013 will go down as one of the worst months of my entire life, but also, bizarrely, one of the best.

I waited and waited and waited to hear back from the Shakespeare people (even, humiliatingly enough, actually CALLING them…twice…to inquire as to whether or not they wanted to see me, as I was going to be flying and then driving 3 hours to get there).

I didn’t hear anything.

The original audition date that I had applied to came and went. I was disappointed with not hearing anything about the audition, but I figured that my lack of professional experience had put me in the T-file and I was happy with myself for trying. and to take my mind off of things, I went to a local SCA event, where I met some amazing people, had a ton of fun, and fell in love with sword fighting and armor –making and a group of people who didn’t mind adopting a complete stranger and bringing her in and making her one of their own.

It was a great weekend. Then, the next weekend kicked off a chain of events that changed everything.

Driving home from a trip to the zoo, I started a conversation that would change my life forever. I asked, simply, where we saw ourselves in the next few years, and after a long, intense, tearful conversation that night, the next day and the day after that, it became clear that my relationship was ending. I fought it, hard, for a few days, but as the pain of loss eased, I realized that it was for the best.

However, fate was not kind to me in September. Over the course of those two weeks, I: lost my job, saw my long-term relationship come to and end and had to move back in with my mom, and spent most of the end of September feeling like I was constantly mid-panic attack and got really good at sneaking off to the bathroom to weep.

I was, essentially, homeless, jobless and single for the first time in my adult life, all at the same time. I was trying desperately to find an apartment I could stand, unable to do anything about these huge, sweeping changes that were happening and I was completely lost, trying to hold my shit together lest everything crumble around me, and failing, miserably. For the first time in months, I relapsed and started throwing up again, which made me feel even shittier about life in general.

There are many, many things I could say about the loss of that relationship, but what I know is that it was, ultimately, for the best. It was, and still is, hard, but leaving a relationship as friends and knowing that we left the relationship out of mutual respect for the other person was more than I could hope for, but it happened. We are still friends, and I still do, and I think always will, care deeply for him.

I have always heard that the beginning and end of a relationship is where you learn the most about a person, and the kindness, generosity and understanding that I was shown as we ended our life together as a couple speaks volumes about the man I was lucky enough to share my life with for almost four years.

It has been harder in some ways, staying friends, but our lives intertwine and intersect in too many ways to ever completely be cut off, but more than that, I enjoy his friendship. He is still important to me, I still value his opinions and I still look forward to talking show ideas with him—but now, we simply do it as friends, and I am fantastically happy that I still have that support and friendship in my life.

Thankfully, and perhaps kind of obviously, I realized that I didn’t have to deal with all of this alone. My friends were still my friends, regardless of how I met them, and so I asked for help, and support, and I found it, in droves. It is often at our darkest moments that we feel the most loved, and from friends who spent long nights watching me pick at my dinner to friends who drank too much wine and let me cry on them, I found that through all of this loss and through all of this changes, I had only gained the knowledge of how lucky I am in my friends, my family and my fortunate life.

And so I began to pick up the pieces.

I (sort of) got my job back, in a complicated and convoluted way, though I lost my salaried and titled position, which has been a frustrating adjustment, but I will save my thoughts on that for a later day.

I started to enjoy being single in a bittersweet way and threw myself into a new passion—making armor. Kind of. Well, learning about learning about making armor. I’m still not an expert, but I’m working on it. I fell in love with steel and hammers and rivets, and it turns out I don’t totally suck at it, either.

I also half-heartedly auditioned for Two Gentlemen of Verona, originally only going to the audition just to be around people to try and get myself out of the post-breakup doldrums, and I somehow wound up being cast as Silvia. I didn’t expect to audition, let alone to get cast as one of the major leads—and a romantic one, at that.

The process was strange. I didn’t write anything about it, which I ultimately regret, but it was so different from Lavinia and the process so much…easier, that I didn’t know what to say about it. I didn’t feel like I was working at it, which was a weird feeling. I had fun. Titus was fun, I suppose, in the way that the soreness after a good workout feels good, but it was…different. I don’t think it is a better or worse thing, but I felt the difference. Of course, there was also a goddamn rape scene in the woods, so it wasn’t like I was TOO far off. Sigh.

Two Gents was a learning experience for me.

I learned that if there is a dog , I will fall madly in love with it. I learned that I’m a pretty decent photographer and that I love taking photos, however, I also learned to remember to ask someone to take a photo of ME once in awhile—not a single photo exists of me as Silvia, which is kind of a bummer because my costume was amazing.

I learned how to stand the fuck still and deliver a speech and I learned to check for screws before climbing down a ladder, because I’m pretty sure I’ll have this scar forever. I learned that I look decent as a redhead, but I miss my blue hair, and I learned that it is really, really hard for me to see myself as beautiful. Playing Silvia was a mind-fuck.

But most of all, for all the faults and failings of our little theatre company, I got to remember how much I am loved, how much I love the people I get to work with and how our passion drives us and inspires us and can make a show happen. We hold magic in us, it’s just easy to forget sometimes.

Oh, and very important to the story, about two weeks into September after the breakup, I got two emails. The first email was from my mortgage broker at my bank, telling me that I had been approved for a home loan, so I could start looking for a house if I wanted. The second email was from the Artistic Director of the Shakespeare company, asking me if I wouldn’t mind coming to their final callback auditions.

Crossroads.

Act 3 is the story of a journey and a risk and what I learned about talking to strangers, but that tale is a (long) blog entry in itself, so I think this is a good time to stop for the evening, but I will write more, very soon.

I’ve missed you.

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