Seven Thirty

Two years ago today, I drive into Brooklyn with an address and a car full of crap to start my new adventure. One year ago today, I wrote a basic recap of how things went in the first year. In my second year in New York, 

• I got a promotion at work, went from supporting seven people to seven and a half to four to seven and will soon (hopefully) be just supporting three. 

• I did shows in rep for the first time, which wasn't as odd as one might think, since I had done different shows at the same time before. 

• I did my first Shakespearean history play, and was a guest on a YouTube show about Shakespeare.

• I went through another bout of depression that nearly kicked my ass. 

• I worked really hard, and continue to work hard, to climb out of that depression and I'm proud of the progress I've made. 

• I gave great auditions and was not cast; I gave great auditions and got cast; I got lambasted for being cast; I got praised for landing certain roles. 

• I sang at an audition. 

• I spent lots of time with friends and saw more of the city. I even saw more of New Jersey and Boston and Connecticut.

What I keep coming back to, though, is that in Chicago, I had a day job, did some theatre on nights and weekends, and hung out with my friends. In New York, I have a day job, I do some theatre on nights and weekends, and I hang out with friends. I am, essentially living the same life here that I did there, just with different people cast in the roles of boss, friend, and colleague. And my apartment in Chicago was much nicer (no offense to my current roommate - I love her to death - but my last place in Chicago had a dishwasher. We barely have kitchen counter space and don't have screens on the windows).

So what does this mean?

It means I'm a capable person. It means I'm a likable person. It means I know (at least to some extent) who I am. I have gotten more comfortable in my own skin out here. There's something about starting over with people who don't know your history and still being able to form connections, break down barriers, and build relationships, that gives a person a different kind of confidence. But I think it also means I need to up my game. If I'm living the same life in either place, why not live it closer to my family and closer to Wrigley Field? 

I need something big to happen; something big to change. I said I was going to give New York three years and I intend to do that. But without some big deciding factor keeping me here...

Things need to change. And I know I'm the only one who can make them change. 

So game on. 

Seven Twenty Nine

Two years ago today, I said what was probably the hardest goodbye of my life as I packed my cat and the last of my things into my car and drove away from my heartbroken mother, sobbing my eyes out. My thought was that if I didn't give the whole "living in New York" thing a try at least once in my life, at least for a little while, I would regret it. So to leave a job that made me miserable, and to go in search of my dreams, I left my apartment that I loved, my family who I adore, and my friends who are dear to me as if they were family, and I set out for Brooklyn. 

Two years ago today, I think I stopped crying for real somewhere in Indiana, though I let the bouts of tears come as they needed to throughout the day. 

Two years ago, I stopped at a hotel in Pennsylvania to give myself and my terrified cat a bit of a rest. When I stepped out to get myself some dinner, he crept out of his cat carrier and hid behind the headboard so when I got back to the room, it looked like he was gone. I nearly lost it, and then apologized profusely for stuffing pillows behind the headboard, robbing him of his hiding spot, his safe space in his world that had completely turned upside down, so that I would know where he was. 

Two years ago today, I asked myself a millions times what the fuck I was doing. 

Today, I woke up to my cat and snuggled with him for a few minutes before getting out of bed. He followed me through my morning routine like he always does, and I kissed his head before I left the apartment, reminding him for the umpteenth time today that I love him. 

Today, I went to work at a job where the people value me and respect my opinion. I talked to colleagues about exciting things and challenges up ahead. I was tasked with another fun research project, and I helped welcome a new employee to the office. I didn't get everything done that needs to get done, but I did a lot. I was useful. I was helpful. I was kind and made others smile. 

Today, the cast for the show I am starring in this December was posted. I shared the news and pictures on Facebook to a slew of likes and loves from friends and family, both in New York and elsewhere.

Today, one of the dearest friends I have asked if she could borrow my car for a shopping trip to Long Island. Knowing it is good for my car to be driven more than I drive her these days, I said sure. 

Today, I am on the train back to Brooklyn after work to study Shakespeare and see if anyone wants to join me for dinner tomorrow night. 

Today, I have asked myself a million times what the fuck am I doing. 

My journey two years ago was split in two - one day leaving and one day arriving. For me, the anniversary of the journey should be split in two, as well. One day remembering everything it took to get me here, and one honoring what I've built. Tomorrow, I'll have more to say about where I am and where I'm going. But today, I'm missing my home and my friends and my family and the life I had in Chicago. Today, I'm thinking about what I gave up. Tomorrow, I'll be thinking about if it has been worth it.