Past Lives
When a 20 year dream dies. *Chapter 11*
Every now and again I get glimmers of my old self. Sometimes they arrive as moments of vivid nostalgia. Small, specific memories like sitting in algebra class mindlessly mashing the buttons of my TI-80 calculator while staring out the window and wondering about the smoothie place that just opened next to Kroger. Non-specific and yet absolutely finite, flashes of exact, meaningless moments. Other times, they show up more generally, feelings from a past era, old dreams that play out in my present.
From the ages of 13-35, I pursued the dream of becoming a famous actress. That’s a really long time. It was deeply and truly what I wanted. I fantasized about being on set literally all the time. Listening to music, every song became a soundtrack for the preview of the movie I would star in. I was always in an acting class. All of my friends were creative film people (they still are I’m just thousands of miles from them now). I wrote several short films. I even made a couple. And then, I just didn’t want to wait anymore.
When I moved home in 2020, I had the suspicion I should feel like a failure but deep down, there was only relief. Proximity to family, a new sense of slowness and a feeling of real belonging filled me up in a way I didn’t realize I was craving. I’ve enjoyed peace and calmness, I don’t miss the chaos. But what to do with over twenty years of dreaming and persistence? Sometimes, the fantasy will surge through me again and I’ll think about getting new headshots or writing a script and then it’s like my body revolts, I grimace. I don’t want that anymore. So what DO I want?
I’ve been swirling around back to this question a lot lately. It’s the low grade anxiety that loops in the back of my mind. I’m happy, I’m excited, I’m content but wait, there’s something I was worrying about…oh yeah, who am I now? I’m still paying off all the debt I accrued living lives I couldn’t afford in cities that felt like where I needed to be. I’m straddling a creek of transition, one foot in my old life, the other in the new. What’s the bridge? I just don’t know yet.
What I do know is that I feel lucky to be able to ask myself these sorts of questions. I can safely walk outside, I have access to water and food and can communicate my feelings to you through the Internet. This week, the contrast of my life versus that of thousands of others in the world is impossible for me to ignore and a feeling of helplessness is so prevalent. Meandering into my old lives and daydreaming about the future is such a blessing. At the end of the day, this too will be a past life at some point, the bridge will have appeared, I’ll probably be looking for another one. I’m very lucky.
Here’s the list:
READING
The Guest Book by Sarah Blake. I’m only 15 pages in so it’s probably not even worth mentioning but I do anticipate a good read.
WATCHING
Grey’s Anatomy. I know. Okay. I know. But it’s my comfort blankie. Season 3, Episode 5 when Izzy is trying to figure out what to do with the $8 million Denny left her and Meredith and Derek haven’t gotten back together. This week I thought, “maybe this time I’ll make it past Season 10…?”
LISTENING
The Woman in Me by Britney Spears. Narrated by Michelle Williams. I’ve just barely made it through the chapters where she describes her children being taken from her. So. Fucking. Devastating. I was a Backstreet Boys die-hard but I remember coming home from school to the TRL premiere of the ‘Baby, One More Time’ video and thinking, “whoa, that girl is a star.” Yes, you should definitely read or listen.
Thank you for being here and connecting with me through my writing. Woo woo or not, you, my consistent reader, are my stepping stone into a new age. I am sending you my love and my gratitude and my heart.
I hope for you, a peaceful week with glimmers of joy whether from nostalgia or from the present moment. It’s 80 degrees here but the red and brown leaves are falling and it is truly beautiful.
I’ll talk to you next week.
xoxo.
Love these Monday morning shots of sunshine!