Fly Away Home

"Coming home." Two words I never thought would be a part of my story. Yet here I am. I am home. However, the only thing that remains the same is the four walls that surround me. I refuse to say that I "moved back home." That phrase implies a sense of failure and cop out, which I did not do. Although I know that, I have had this compulsive need to prove it to everyone I meet. They have to know that I did not settle. I did not take the safe and easy way. I did not fail.

I took a giant leap forward.

I moved from the quaint midwest out to the land of palm trees and Hollywood. With rose-colored glasses, I marched into the unknown on the belief that I was supposed to be an actor. I walked into that black box theater with practically no experience to vouch for why I was sitting there saying I belonged. I had something to prove. To my teachers. To my classmates. To my town back home. To myself. It was a weight that I continued to carry around on my shoulders 'til the day I walked across that graduation stage to receive the piece of paper that would tell me I had done it. Originally on paper, I had no right to be there, but I was determined to make it happen. I loved it. I knew in my gut that this is what I was created to do.

When did that stop becoming enough?

Senior year came around and I was suddenly faced with the decision of staying in LA and pursuing film and television, or moving to pursue theatre. Seems simple. I should just choose the one I desire most. Instead, I was this little sailboat getting tossed around by every gust of wind that fought to direct my path. By the time I finally grabbed hold of my bearings, I was so disoriented that I couldn't even remember why I had started the venture in the first place. What direction had I started out towards originally?

Before I knew it, I was hiding below deck hoping that the winds would be satisfied in determining the direction I "should" go. Eventually, after many a rambling panic, I realized what exactly I truly wanted. Coming up on deck, I looked at everyone around me and recognized that they all might think I'm crazy for going against the wind. But at the end of the day, that was better than actually going crazy.

As I set sail to go against the wind, I began to justify my decision to everyone with whom I crossed paths. Most probably didn't even ask me, but if they embraced my explanation, then so could I. After finally arriving at my destination in Minneapolis, I found myself still needing to fight the voices of skepticism and criticism all around me. Turns out I was simply trying to pacify the voice of fear and judgment in my mind. I was home. Yes, I had orignally set out on a path that was not intended to return to a place that had held on to a picture of me I no longer resembled. Well, you see, what happened was...

No. I am here. God knows why. I have the beginning glimpse of why. And that's all that matters. I am no longer wasting my breath on explaining to death the "why."

Instead, I am focusing on how to start a radically new chapter in a book that I thought I had ended. I don't care if it doesn't make sense. I'm done with the compulsive need to prove myself. It's not typical. It's different. I may lose some readers because of that. I don't mind. It's my story in the first place, and I'm determined to make it just that. Mine. Not yours. So here's to moving forward into the seemingly familiar, but ultimately new adventure that is unfolding in front of me.