It Has Been A Year

     A year ago was the day Spencer and I started our voyage across the country!

I'm still so grateful that my wonderful friend came to see me off, and imortalized that moment with a photo of me with my hopes and dreams stuffed into a very heavy backpack, and picnic basket with Spencer inside.

          It's always sort of jarring to be able to look back at who you used to be. I've lost half of the items in this photo, but also gained a lot of perspective.  This has been a tough year.  To be completely honest (as I have always been on this blog) one of the hardest things was coping with regret.  Wondering how much happier I could’ve been if I hadn’t moved.

          The hospital was when my perspective really changed.  Starting then, I’ve lost an average of one person a week.  Best friends, the closest I have to family, who knew how much I loved and valued them, and with this year’s challenges knew how much I needed them, deciding they could no longer do it.  And I don’t blame them.  My life is tough; some days I feel like I’d opt out if I could.

And in these hard thoughts, I’ve considered, what if I hadn’t gotten sick?  Or if I hadn’t moved? Would I still have those people in my life?  Are the people that I have left only still here because they weren’t in the same city to be challenged as my friends here were?  Am I doomed never to have people consistently in my life?  How much of this could’ve been avoided if I had stayed in Philadelphia?

          But you know what?  When I went back to Philly I found those same friends and some new ones happily waiting to hug me after almost a year apart.  I used to think no one would be in my life for longer than a year, and my friends vanquished that fear.

          And just like I’ve lost half of what was in that photo a year ago; I’ve gained a lot too.  A year ago I thought dreams were more important than reality.  Now I’ll never gamble my current happiness for something that I hope is better.  A year ago I thought I had to be in LA to do TV-Film; now I know that art is who I am.  No matter where I am I will be creating.  And after a year of mostly trying to survive, I know that I’d rather go where survival is easier and to the friends who won’t let me feel lonely.  A year ago I thought that love could conquer all.  Now I know it’s a little baby that you have to nourish and care for and protect.  A year ago I left a city thinking that life outside college would always be that great; now I know it was that city that made life so magical.  A year ago I left behind friends that I knew I would miss; now I know that they are my family.  A year ago I was lost and now know where home is.  

          So I can’t regret this year.  It’s helped me learn to really invest in that and those that I love; and that being where you are happy is more important that going to where you think you “should be.”  As far as health goes?  This year was rough; and now I know that no matter how invincible I think I am, that hospitals are always a possibility.  So I want to spend investing in what makes me happy and what will help me pull through when things get rough.

Now that it’s been a year, I’m ready for the next adventure. 

Seven Lessons I've Learned This Year

What I've learned this year:

1. Just because you've found happiness where you are, doesn't mean you're guaranteed to recreate it wherever you go. And there is nothing worthy of sacrificing that happiness. 
2. There is something far greater to me than my passion for art; and that's my love for people. When I was sick and bedridden, I didn't spend my days sitting there writing screenplays, practicing monologues or looking up auditions for when I was healthier. I spend it dreaming of people: to hold my hand when I was in pain, to go on adventures with or even just errands, to celebrate when I could eat or help distract me when I couldn't. I yearned for people; not for art.  
3. Art is still in my life, no matter where I am. Whether I'm the token creative one in a political science class in France, or on a staff in LA who collectively would rather be out making movies, or even just covering whatever I can find (menus, napkins, one of my many many notebooks) with lines of poetry: Art is how I breathe. It functions like an organ inside of me and it keeps me alive.  I can go anywhere and it'll come, too; it is with me until I die.  I will be an artist no matter where I go. 
4. And so I am going. I gave this city a shot AND a second chance. Yet this is where I lost my childhood and earned the scars that I carry. It's where I was first diagnosed with Crohn's, rheumatoid arthritis, asthma, eczema, and hyper-mobility and where I experienced what gives me PTSD.   And this second time around.....?  Well you know a lot of that. I'm still not back to 100% after being in the hospital and out of work for four months, living in five homes in under a year and losing essentially all of the support group that I had previously grown.  I knew I had nothing keeping me here when when I lost the woman that rescued me. The first person to say "you have no idea how easy life should be: you are abused."  And yet I am thankful as this group still helped me get to where I am today, but if I am seen as a burden or even just a disturbance to their lives, then it is absolutely time for me to go. Because from my trip I learned that:
5.  Philadelphia is my home. I didn't live there as a child, nor did I ever plan to spend a significant amount of time there. I was angry we even had to sign a year lease, not nearly expecting how much more I would grow into myself there, than I had in any of the eight other cities I had previously lived in.  And Philadelphia wasn't even mine. It was his home that I was staying in. And though I look back on those days having learned that an attempt at a career out here was not nearly worth leaving that world behind, and though I still see him as fool for equally learning the magnitude of the happiness we created and deciding to run from it - that doesn't mean that happiness isn't still available to me.  I went back and was immediately returned to the world that fed me. Grew me into the passionate, empathetic, proudly quirky sprite that I always had in me. It's where I grew confident in my art and in myself. Where I got my nose pierced and my first tattoo. Where I learned the types of artists and people I want to surround myself with and where I knew I could find them.  Philadelphia is my home now, not just his, and though I lost a love and his family with him, that didn't mean that I lost my own. 
6. Because my family is you.  The people who've told me how worried they were when Spencer was missing. The people who've uttered the phrase "I read your blog."  The strangers and best friends that have sent me messages, assuring me that my tales have inspired them: a goal that I've had through all of this.  You are my family.  I may not be able to come home for the holidays or Skype with you when I have a tough decision to make.  But I do write during those times and you are the ones who read those thoughts and support me with your love.  And so you will be happy to know that the people that I longed for when I was too weak to get out of bed, the hands I was wishing to hold..... Philadelphia houses caring souls who equally yearned to hold my hand and help me up those stairs.  And yes, part of me worries if they're only still here because they haven't been subjected to the toll it takes on my support group when I am sick....but at the same time, I had requests from individuals I had never met to spend time with me so that they could learn more about the person they already loved.  That gird me hope in them to last through the hardest times. And I am so ready to love them.  I think there is magic in that city.  And I may not be there forever, but
7.  I know I need to be there now. 

So there's more to come on what exactly that looks like and when it's happening. But my happiness quest focused on why I was happy in Philadelphia; and now I will focus on the how to get (that) back. 

I also have already become sicker since leaving Philadelphia, so no doubt this move will ultimately help my health. 

So I guess there's also:

      8. I am absolutely a nomad. 

I look forward to the happiness that's ahead of me. 

Loving you lots,

Me

Some Changes from the Past Week

Hello lovely readers,

So I've been a bit quiet the last week and I'll walk you through why.

First of all I have been surrounded so constantly by such magnificent loves that I've seldom had time to reflect, and honestly no need to. I've been happy and I know exactly why: I'm back where I belong and where I need to be. 

And thus the second reason for my silence: now that I know what I want.....what do I do next?  How do get on that plane to a city where I've only ever struggled?  Especially now that I know that it's contributing to my sadness, which often materializes in physical pain...

Someone asked me in my dream scenario, what would I do next, and the honest answer is to not leave.... To become a little stray cat traveling around Philly until I find myself a home. 

But I have to go back. I have a lease to break, things to pack, a belovéd mattress and books to somehow transport.... But as a best friend said, I shouldn't let that be the reason not to do what I want. 

As far as art goes, I have a vlog in the works and am going to be making my own work as it is....might as well be surrounded by loves as I do so. This isn't the end of my art, it's just migrating to a more fruitful location. And I visited New York again and to the idea of moving there instead, I will Monty Python style laugh in your face...no no. Not for me. 

I like being in a city, but one that's a little more centrally located, and I also have more of a family in Philly. When I went to tea with one of my friends I happily exclaimed that they brought two pens with our checks as I hate when they only bring one; I then dropped my pen. 

I realized that I was only complaining about the scarcity of pens because I've been going out so often with friends, something I rarely got to do on LA. I don't like working so hard not to be alone, and no doubt the walkability makes meeting up all the easier. Plus people on this coast are used to grabbing a drink after work together, or catching up during lunch, and that's exactly what I want. 

And so I sit warmly in my silence. Knowing WHAT I want, and now working on the HOW. 

To Build A Home

And at last I stood on the outskirts of my struggle, staring at what had become my home.  From a distance I saw my once supportive beams, now fallen, splintered and harmful. I recalled how that roof over my head had become toxic, and how climbing out from under it had left me bruised and exhausted.

I was still sore, still sick and still on my own.

I finally realized that here I was, stuck in a pit of my own creation and my own demise. 

To fill it and rebuild sounded like more effort than it was worth.  I had fought so hard, and what had it been for?

This empty pit. This lot of nothing, a painful reminder of my efforts at construction that quaked into a wasted year.  I had already discovered this spot as turbulent and sterile, so why was I still trying to make it my home?

It took me a lot of time to see this clarity. It was as if I needed to escape the pit and wait for the dust to settle to finally see. And as soon as I did, I booked a flight and went back to my old loves. 

I wanted to look at my old home.  Though I did worry how much of its stability was rested upon the ex; was he the reason it hadn't collapsed?  And now without him, would it still be the stable home that I needed?

And the answer is yes. My friends, those coworkers turned to loves, are my beams of support and light, even helping me find more people to keep building up my life. 

Perhaps he was my windows, my guide to the outside world, but with the warmth of those I adore, my house is well heated enough not to need his glass panes. (And who really wants to rely so heavily upon something so fragile?)

Even as a visitor, I feel more at home here than I've felt in months.  Some had said well I only had a year to build that western home and yet I had the same time here. And between an empty pit and a cozy and warm cabin, there's only one choice:

Happiness. 

This is the city where I fell in love. With my love at the time, with my coworkers-turned-to-family, with my jobs, this city, my life and myself. 

So considering that in under a week a rediscovered more happiness than I found in a year, no, I don't want to go back to that pit.  

I didn't waste my time, as I learned there that no path is worth permanently leaving behind a home where you are happy..... I just wish I could have learned that without the constant struggle of this last year.  

So I'll see what it is like to go back to the pit.  And if it doesn't seem worth it, I know where my little cabin is, with loves waiting to adventure with me. 

Happiness Quest 2016

Quests in video games (yes girls play, too) are like divine intervention by the game's creators.  They need you to accomplish something in order to further the plot and the story of your character. Usually you have some sort of glowy oracle who guides you, helping you to unlock your characters future. 

I have been stuck on the same level for a long time. Maybe the goal of my game is to be healthy and have a home and a family, for it seems that no matter how hard I try, there's always a bigger boss that crushes me, sending me back into the hospital or on a housing hunt, and making my precious actions seem worthless. 

Sure, I've collected a few coins along the way. Gained a heart then had it broken. Found some shiny stones to hold onto for good luck, but I'm nevertheless feeling stuck. 

And this level, this west coast sunny side search for a career and happiness - I have failed. Or maybe it has failed me. Nevertheless I am unhappy and feeling too overwrought to continue upon this path. 

So I'm returning to my previous level, my Philadelphia one, because that level rocked. I flew in that world, surrounded but helpful trees and wonderful spirits. I was happy there. I beat that level with flying electromagnetic colors. 

And so I want to learn why. Why that level was so amazing, what did I do different then, and whether I can bring those skills to my current level. 

And maybe I can't. Maybe I'll move back to level Philly until I'm strong enough to progress, or maybe I need to explore somewhere new on my map. Unfortunately I have no oracle, just a burning desire to travel, explore and learn, and so I'm following that passion to learn more about the world, myself and where I need to be. 

And thus begins: my Happiness Quest.