Leaving Texas... kind of...
My body may have left Texas, but my mind hasn’t.
Has anyone else had the experience of making a new friend
after high school and wondering how in the world you’re going to explain yourself?
How do you get someone to understand all the things that went into making you
who you are now? My life in Texas didn’t end the way it was supposed to and I’m
left wondering how to understand this narrative of my life? How can I trust
that everything about me makes sense?
One of the first things I did on returning to Phoenix was
attend my friend Monica’s wedding where I sat at a table comprised of 3
couples, and me. They were all artists of some kind: actors, singers, writers,
directors, theatre company owners, and me. I was none of those things. “You’re
an art lover,” Shelby said.
I am an art lover. But I wasn’t an artist. So when Shelby
and Brian offered me the chance to be apart of Brelby, I was very reluctant. What
could I possibly offer a theater company made up of people with so much talent
in areas I never developed or had to begin with?
I’m not going to tell you anything specific about what occurred
in Texas. But I will say that I let myself down. I failed. And I’ve spent the
last two years punishing myself for it. Now, however, I’m finding that, because
I am a different person, filled with adventures and memories, heartaches and
fear, that I didn’t have 4 years ago, I’ve had to give myself lots of space to
think and to remind myself that I can enjoy this. I can let people call me a
Brelby artist and know that it’s true. After a 10 year performance hiatus, I’ve
been involved in 6 shows and 2 creative challenges since March, and I’m not
sure when it happened but one day, I looked in the mirror and saw someone I
recognized.
Maybe it’s all the time spent with Shelby, one of my oldest and
dearest friends, or that I’ve finally gotten to know her husband (and he’s a
wonderful person).
It could have happened when I realized people like to hear
me sing, or that I have the ability to remember my lines, or that I am a really
good Stage Manager.
Or maybe it happened when I understood that I’m allowed to enjoy
my life, even if it’s not what I thought it would be.
I’m not sure where any of this time at Brelby fits into my narrative;
I’m still not convinced I’m an artist. But lately I’ve been wondering if the
answer is to not bother trying to work any of it out at all.
There are the lucky few who have had smooth sailing to this
point in their lives, but for most of us, there are firsts and starts,
confusion, missteps, wrong turns, U-turns. My road appears to be constantly
under construction, covered in boulders and black ice, with so many unexpected
surprises, both happy and not so happy. The truth of who I am is all I have to
offer, to Brelby or elsewhere. And so often all I want to do is edit or hide
it, cut and paste the story so it will read like something I meant to do all
along.
But the answer just may be the embrace this life of mine. We are all here, trying our best, fumbling along. We make choices, we re-group, we try new things, and we take chances at places like Brelby. We learn from each other. We make sense.
But the answer just may be the embrace this life of mine. We are all here, trying our best, fumbling along. We make choices, we re-group, we try new things, and we take chances at places like Brelby. We learn from each other. We make sense.
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