I have been out of commission since this summer in relation to my entrepreneurial obligations. Sacrificially, I have not made any efforts since late July to push sales in my vintage shop, produce photo shoots, promote the shop via social media or buy new inventory. It’s not that I lost interest. It’s not that I gave up on my dream. I just got distracted. New York City is a very distracting place. I resumed my position full-time in the film business to make more money to put towards my “dream” but in the meantime, I was spending money, going out with friends and dates, drinking, shopping and doing what New Yorker’s do…consume and complain.
Film job opportunities kept arising and it was hard to say no to them. (Who doesn’t want to work on GIRLS?) But, there is always another carrot dangling in front of us just another 10 feet away. Firmly, finally, I took my last job. I may not have left the business with as much money as I could have in my bank account but, at some point I had to take a step backward to take a step forward.
Coincidentally, I have friends in my life at this exact moment who are highly considering the move “home” but there is a fear of…what, they are not sure. The fear of leaving the fast lane perhaps? I think we “creative types” all live a very bold and colorful world full of travel, culture, bright lights and mayhem. It’s a beautiful mess. It’s like driving on the Autobahn for years and then seeing a sign that reads “Speed limit 60”. You develop impatience for anything “normal” hence, why would you purposely put yourself somewhere overwhelmingly “normal”? There’s a great fear of losing who you think you’ve become.
As I packed my personal belongings in my Williamsburg apartment to bring back to Texas I kept feeling hot flashes and emotional pangs all over my body. My brain was telling me I was failing because I was going back home. This is something I trained myself to think at a young age to keep myself moving ahead, that going back to San Antonio was failure. It was a reset button.
But sometimes life brings us “full circle, back to our roots”, so I hear. I’m actually looking forward to a therapeutic experience this winter. I admit, the words are stumbling out of my mouth saying, “this is my home”, but I guess acceptance is the first step in all rehabilitative programs and this is certainly a rehabilitation of sorts in my perspective. I’m learning to slow down, focus on the present and be optimistic about life, like I use to be. I’m not resetting. I’m my own boss now. I’m moving forward, making a mature decision and going with my gut feeling, finally. Taking a deep breath.
“Home sweet home”.