Thoughts
As I am preparing to move out of my mom’s house for the second time in my life, I find myself reflecting on where I am an where I thought I’d be.
They’re nowhere near each other.
When I went to college at 18 I knew a few simple things.
1) I was never going to live with my parents again.
2) In four years I would end up with a Bachelor’s Degree.
3) I would be working in theatre music or dance in some way, most likely as some form of stage manager or as a lighting designer.
4) I would be in New York.
As I approach 30, and realize that absolutely none of these things are true, I find myself feeling…hopeless. I feel like I’ve given up my dreams.
For a long time after I moved home with my mom (at age 23, with no college degree), I stayed in jobs that barely payed the bills and gave me a little spending money to do things I wanted. Jobs that I wouldn’t care if I lost, and that I could blow off without feeling any sense of regret.
I did this so that when that magical opportunity to do what I really want fell in my lap, I would have no second thoughts about ditching everything and going.
But I could never be truly happy without my independence. Without being challenged daily.
So I found a position as a 911 Dispatcher. The pay is incredible…more than twice what I was making at my last job. It’s something that I could easily do the rest of my life. I’m challenged every day. …and that scares the shit out of me.
This is not where I wanted to be. This is not my dream. I’m not in a place now where I can just quit with no remorse and go running off to do what I want should the chance arise. I barely have time to go to shows and photograph them like I used to enjoy.
But I’m 26 years old. I’m too old to live at home with my mother and too smart to stay in dead end jobs.
I’m not complaining, just venting about my own frustrations. I try to never regret anything, but I can’t help but wonder how things would have been different if I had only…
