How did I end up here? How exactly do I describe the absolute, comfortable sinkhole that my life had become before all of this started? Let me try.
It was the post-pandemic era, and I had finally gotten my head above water financially. No more debt! I was working at only one Pilates studio near my house, no longer shlepping around the city with weeks of unwashed reusable coffee containers strewn in the backseat, with an additional mound of empty to-go coffee cups on top. I had levelled up. Work was a mere 7-minute drive from my house or a 30-minute walk. I was still making slightly less than the cost of living in Vancouver, so I was slowly going back into the debt I had just gotten myself out of - but at a less rapid pace. I had an agent for film and TV. The merits of this particular agent were questionable, but still, an agent I had.
I lived on my own in an apartment near the ocean. A 1940s walk-up where nothing was built to code, and black mold lurked behind the painted walls. My upstairs neighbour chose to move furniture between the hours of midnight and 6 am every night for God knows what reason. Cocaine induced decorating urge? Murders followed by a sanitizing spree? Or a particular type of sociopathy that focuses on the mundane aspects of life? I was also situated overlooking the alley right next to the dumpsters, so every morning around 6 am, trucks would start revving. Delivery drivers, garbage pick up - you name a task, and a truck would loudly take care of it right outside of my window. I also had a man try to break into my apartment from the balcony…but this is a story for another time. So my life wasn’t exactly perfect.
I recognize this isn’t grounds for a meltdown, this is barely the start of an incredibly boring story. Yet this was the reality of what my life was. I was a 40-year-old something trying to make it sans partner, sans kids, and sans career success, eking my way to my dreams marginally slower than death was marching toward me.
Perhaps it was the weather that was the impetus. In the Pacific Northwest, the trees sulk towards the ground, giving way under the constant barrage of rain. The ocean and sky blend into one, causing my once vibrant dreams to turn into a soggy life, drowned out by gatekeepers and apathy. Perhaps it was just one too many days of the maniacal reign of rain that caused me to finally snap.
That winter, I decided that I would sell everything I owned and move away; my sights were set on the Mediterranean. I mean, what was more opposite to the Pacific Northwest than the sunny, dry bluffs of the Mediterranean?
I started telling friends and family that I was going through with it. I was ready to change my life completely. That was until my acting coach found me a new, fantastic agent. Could I leave so soon? I had only given performing 2.5 decades of my life. Is that enough of a go?
But the idea had taken hold, it had rooted itself so deeply into the neural pathways of my mind that I could not let it go. So, I looked online and found a ticket to Rome for less than $300. This was the only sign I needed to know that this was my destiny. My work shockingly went for the idea of me leaving for 6 full weeks, and my new agent was encouragin
g. I found a return trip from Paris for roughly the same amount. Instead of moving completely with no job or plan, I settled for my second most common response to stagnation - a solo trip. I mean, with all of the signs pointing to yes, what could possibly go wrong?
…and this is where my adventures begin.
So excited to read every chapter!!!