What A Time to Be Alive

The title of this post is cheesy. I know. Gimme a break. It’s been awhile.

Wow. Today marks me being a resident of LA for ONE YEAR. #WhatInTheWorld

So much spiritual, emotional, literal and figurative growth has occurred this past year, I honestly don’t know where to begin… Hmm. That’s a lie. I know exactly where to start.

The past few months I always said that when I start messing w/ this blog again my first post would be titled: “You’re a Fake Friend and Your Concern Is Too” or “Sarah is My Sister but She’s Not My Keeper: Quit Asking Her How I’m Doing.” But my mood/outlook on people isn’t as aggressive as it once was. Obviously my journey in LA hasn’t been sunshine and rainbows. Only recently have I started enjoying waking up at 5:45am – naturally excited to go on a run – versus insomnia due to wondering if God made me accidentally because he still can’t figure out what to do with me just yet. Initially, writing while brooding was a welcome feeling as people would tell me that they have felt/are feeling the same way and that they find comfort in my words. However, I soon realized every time I hit publish the posts were lacking in spunk and I didn’t want to shoulder the weight of being the voice of the depressed millennial. During this time of confusion when Sarah and I chatted, she’d say, “so and so read your blog and: ‘is wondering if you’re ok?’ ‘asked if you’re depressed?’ ‘asked if you regret moving?'” After awhile it got to be too much. I realized people don’t necessarily care about me, they’re just fascinated by the tumultuous fall that is/was my life. I figure if you cared about me you’d reach out to me, not get second-hand info from ‘my husband’. So, I wrapped up this blog and decided to shelve it until I could type words in a coherent sequence that didn’t have people itching to call a therapist after reading it.

This past year has rocked me to my core. I’ve questioned all of my friends, family, purpose, talents, existence — literally at some point in this reset year I’ve pondered everything under the sun and wondered why I’ve even been blessed to feel the warmth of the sun and know how simple and great life can be if I find there’s no reason to get out of bed most days. There was a huge part of this year that I was depressed. Sometimes I have phantom pangs reminding me that I haven’t fully escaped it. During my darkest days I even thought about suicide (HUGE disclaimer — I’m fine — trust me — please leave Sarah alone). I didn’t think about doing it or how I’d do it, but just thinking about it in a general sense and empathizing with the anguish of those who go through with it. I could never do it because I always see myself as too much of a “coward” to end my life… but this is another blog for another day. I really wish people freely talked about these things instead of only when a life (attempts to) end(s) because I’ve danced around the issue of depression/suicide with many a person in 1:1 conversations and the people you least suspect are hurting most. Again… another blog for another day.

I’ve surrounded myself with the best people around and I’d duel to the death with you right now that my inner circle run laps around yours. From budding PhD recipients to venture capitalists funding their own coffee shop to a legitimate Hollywood star on the rise once fall TV rolls out to an exhausted surgeon who makes it a priority to keep me alive (luhh you girl!) to many many many other scrappy, talented, wise, God-fearing, calling out my BS and forcing me to face my deepest fears individuals — without these angels on Earth there’s no way I would’ve mentally made it through this year. My angels know who they are. Thank you for your endless support and constant motivation. (Hint: If you have to question if you’re an angel [to me] then you’re not. My angels know.)

Lately I’ve started to find my footing in LA LA land. I came fresh eyed and excited, thinking I’d land a writing job at Buzzfeed within the month and somehow finagle a way to meet Oprah because — well — Oprah. After a year I’m doing things I’d never imagine:  I self-taught myself how to write TV show scripts in hopes of landing a writing gig on a network show. Started taking improv not too long after to ‘find my funny bone’ in my writing.  Apparently I’m not half bad and a random curiosity in improv has snowballed into me joining my own team (I still don’t think I’m funny, but it’s a talent I must now accept).  Shameless plug: Obama’s Other Daughters — is an all black, all female indie improv team who is slowly taking over the improv scene. (We already got a mini corporate sponsorship in this bihhh… #WeLit). I’m also brainstorming my own web series after helping produce one from conception to final product and dabbling in acting and eating better and losing weight and TRAINING FOR A MARATHON (my 16yo self who ran track and in better shape than me pre-ACL tear would never believe this). I’m finally starting to understand this thing called life and how to live it fearlessly.

Conquering fears has been my homework this summer. One angel in particular would just work that in our conversations at the most random times. “What are you afraid of?” Huh?! I was just trying to convince you to eat dessert waffles for dinner instead of a real meal. “What are you afraid of?”  was the theme of our friendship and my life for a while. What WAS I afraid of? Like, I legit didn’t know the answer. Deep water. The police (lately). Wasting my youth. Growing old and alone (friends on Facebook have moved past engagements in their lives and working on their 2nd/3rd child — it’s too much). It took me a few weeks to figure most of them out. I mean I was addressing deep-rooted things that have been around since I was 9 and started hating my broad nose and thought it smart to put Clorox in my lotion thinking I might get a few shades lighter. Heavy stuff I didn’t even realize I was still carrying I started to chip away at this summer. It was the most intense, painful yet therapeutic thing I could’ve ever done.

I could ramble more, but I want you to stick around for future posts! So, as I end this heavy(ish) blog with twinges of positivity, I challenge you to be fearless in your journey. I thought I was but my angels, quick to smell that bull, made me realize I was only fooling myself. So, my cherished friend who made it to the end of this blog, “What are you afraid of?” If you don’t have any angels in your life, know that I’m a bomb one. I may not always respond or do it immediately (no one is perfect even if they have wings!), but I’ll be there for you and support ya as you continue to reach your own milestones in this journey called life.

Wow. What a time to be alive.

Excited for you. Excited for me. Excited for us. ❤

One thought on “What A Time to Be Alive

  1. I connected a lot fight your post. I loved it. I’ve been through similar things and it felt like you were writing about what I was going through. You’re a great writer and I wish you all the success in the world. Will definitely be looking out for your work.

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