I left LA in 2012 defeated. I thought my career was over and decided to commit myself to a fulltime job at one of the places I had been freelancing for during my bicoastal tenure. Now I had been living in New York since the early 2000s, so this place was really my home. LA was a great respite and my MFA in this business of show. So I packed up my studio apartment in the Valley and flew to back to my Manhattan rental with my Chihuahua in tow. Little did I realize that my plan to do the “right” thing would lead me living a glorious, unexpected career in television, owning my own business and living of all the places I refused to live in: the Bronx.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know that adage where you say when you have plans…blah, blah, blah. I am also one of those people who need to learn lessons a few times in order for it to stick. So when a series of misfortunate events happened over a course of two years, I finally took action to make the tides of change work in my favor. Between the saving grace of therapy, the gift of the David Lynch Foundation scholarship for their Transcendental Meditation and the support of my incredible network of family and friends, I got on my feet and took a look at what I had. My gifts had nothing to do with the perfect headshot that was totally me or that I was in the perfect acting class or that my reel was so good or that my Holiday cards had the right mix of sweetness and humor with a squirrel with my face on it snowboarding down a menorah.
I am a survivor. Now, an old lover said this to me once while leaving me for a younger woman and those words stung like ice when I heard them. It was a slap in the face or any number of metaphors that equal really bad pain, but I did not like being told I was a survivor. It felt dismissive. But he was right. This warrior princess had a powerful gift unique to trauma survivors: resilience. I am talking about a will to fight born out the essence of survival. My passion to perform was not going to be the sole attribute that makes me successful in this industry. Even being driven has a self life that tires at mile 22. Something that our animal brain does is flush us will the adrenaline to fight through the shit of life and I have been lucky to use it to my advantage during the so many rough patches on this journey.
I was diagnosed with PTSD a few years ago and it was actually the breath of fresh air I needed. I was on the verge of poverty and bouncing from place to place with no home truly of my own, so the stress was insurmountable to say the least. Hearing that there was a way to work with this gave me a bit of hope. But that did not click the light bulb in my brain to drag my body out of that mess. Actually, there was no light bulb at all. My body went into muscle memory mode: made phone calls, went to places that helped me stay sane and gave up on giving up. Giving up was not an option. I mean, was I going to jump off the Brooklyn Bridge because life was too hard or use the resources I had to get up and do something, anything that was going to bring in an income and provide a notion of stability? I chose the latter…with help.
Let’s talk about choice. I really want to believe we live in a world where we all get to have the equality of choice but we don’t. My choices may be different based on gender, race, class, location, education and mindset. Someone who is suffering from loss or in a deep depression cannot even see the same opportunities of choice that someone who is experiencing great fortune has. Their perspective is different and they may be looking out west side widow while the other is going into another train car.
So when I thought my only choice back in 2012 was to get a “normal” job and “settle” down, the Universe had other plans (ha, there it is). I was looking through the broken perspective of my defeated lens to get me a regular life. I held on to that lens until it shattered in my hand and my pain response triggered an internal 911 EMS team to get me somewhere better. The external chain of events assisted in that going from unlivable to a steady climb of successes. I could have only gotten here with the amazing cocktail of my resilience and help from others.
What does help really mean? In my case, it was getting a professional to show me my options. It was the friend that had me sleep on their couch and stayed up all night talking. It was the room of strangers all looking for answers and forced to sit a chair and just breathe in silence. It was a lot of things. It was all the hours and days and weeks of getting out of bed especially when I didn’t want to just to do something. It was not doing this alone.
Today, I look around my lovely home with the little dog that has traveled coast to coast nestled in her bed and think how awesome this ride is. Where to next?