Begin

Guitar in hand, he rode the escalator up and down for hours. Music blared from the speakers below while he lip-synced and strummed.  It was 1989.

I walked from Korea Town to Wilshire Blvd. to catch a bus to The West Side Pavillion. It was there that I secured my first LA job folding clothes for The Gap. I stood watching and listening to the mystery man with the guitar. When a coworker joined me, I asked her if she knew who he was. She looked at me with the same expression I give anyone who says they’ve never seen Schitt’s Creek.  “It’s Tom Petty.”

Every time I hear the song Free Fallin I’m reminded of my early years in Los Angeles. Sunshine, traffic, and celebrity sightings in shopping malls. I once saw Meryl Streep on that same escalator! It didn’t matter that I slept on a couch or had eighty dollars in my bank account. Each day was an adventure! I was following a dream. It felt as though I walked a tightrope of learning to pay bills, save for a car, and navigate the world of auditioning without a laptop or cell phone.

Thirty years later, I look back at that nineteen-year-old, and I wonder what happened to her. Where was the adventurous spirit who boarded a plane, landed in LA without a plan, and declared, “Take me to the beach!”

How did I become the person who worries every June because it’s the beginning of hurricane season? The person who has to wear a sweater and a jacket indoors if it’s below fifty degrees, and who considers a fun evening out meaning out of bed and curled up on the couch watching Schitt’s Creek. If I want to make a change, it could take months or even a year of me thinking about it before I act.

What happened?

When I was four years old, my parents and some of their friends piled in a car and drove from New Jersey to Florida. Apparently, there were many times during the trip where four-year-old me complained, “I’m uncomfortable!” I have no memory of the drive; however, years later as a joke, my family asks if I’m comfortable.

Comfort is my jam!

At nineteen, when I took off for Los Angeles, excitement rode shotgun, and fear took a backseat. My adventurous spirit overshadowed my fear for some time, and then I went into survival mode. If I wanted to pay rent, eat, and eventually buy a Yugo, I had to work at a job I didn’t particularly like until I found one I did. My life back then was day after day of overcoming obstacles.  “Adulting,” as it’s called now, is a lesson in managing fears. For me, survival in LA meant developing a habit of conquering my fears.

Slowly as life became more comfortable, my fear battling warrior skills faded. The more I chose comfort, the greater my fears grew.

I had to do something.

I sat down with my journal and wrote the question, What am I afraid of? To my surprise, the list flowed longer than I expected. The exercise was freeing. The simple act of getting my fears on paper brought relief. I acknowledged my fear of getting sick, aging, and of course, hurricanes. Then I wrote: Not living my best life.

Living in constant comfort does not equal living my best life. I’ve read life begins at the end of my comfort zone. I’d argue I quite enjoy life sitting on my lanai, sipping coffee, watching the birds soar above the water. But there comes a time when sitting and watching isn’t enough. I too must fly. There is still much to do and so much to see.

It’s time to trade in my sweatpants (after I’ve been vaccinated) armor up and channel that nineteen-year-old warrior who follows her dreams. It’s time to

begin again.

Photo by Rodrigo Curi on Unsplash