“Each year you create sandcastles in a forever wave, trying to capture the beauty of each one till it eventually washes away.”

As Taylor says at the opening of the Eras Tour “It’s been a long time coming.” Sorry for not posting in a bit. It sounds ridiculous to say I haven’t had a free moment since coming back from South Africa in January, but it’s true.

Today is the first day I woke up with no alarms, no plans, and realized I could go back to my roots; sipping an overpriced oat milk matcha latte while pretending to write the next great American novel, in a coffee shop that is all about the ambiance and vibes.

For 29 years I have been on a journey that I didn’t even realize I was until about 2 years ago. I spent every moment working towards where I am now. All the moves, all the heartbreaks, the sleepless nights, the frugality, everything led me to here. I overcame huge health issues, wrote about them, shared them, and now we are almost done making a feature film about them.

I wanted to be a writer of some kind since the first grade. My teacher Ms. Rush, was keen on teaching us creative writing and I was forever thankful. I learned that it was not about writing the story how it happened step by step, but instead about evoking emotions by letting the reader climb into the scene. It was about the reader feeling like they could relate. My first big piece was about Paul Revere from the horse’s perspective. Riveting stuff if you ask me. Then for a long time I thought I wanted to be a reporter and tell stories about the news. One day I realized I wanted to tell stories about real people, fictional people, and everything in between. How fun is it that you can create a whole world.

It was all I did. It consumed me and I had no idea what project to even focus on. I was working full time in post-production to pay the bills, but also taking TV sitcom writing in the evenings at UCLA, and weekend sketch comedy classes at UCB. All the time in-between was spent networking and writing at cafes, trying to spark up more and more ideas. I kept following the comedy writing passion back to Alabama, and even took more classes over the pandemic. In the backdrop of all of this was a project I was too scared to even show to anyone but my classmates at UCLA. A story so personal that it felt as if I was showing my scars to a stranger. As all of you know by now, the story was called “Lady Parts.”

In 2019, “Lady Parts” was still a TV pilot and had won an award that included a poster. It is still hung up in my room today, directly across from the bed. Before all the filming, and social media posts, I used to stare at it scared. What happens when everybody finds out? Do I need to tell everyone about my vaginal trauma? Would I just want to sit in and hide from everyone after? Imposter syndrome kicked in. I put on a brave face. I knew what had to be done. It’s only human to feel vulnerable when you expose your deepest cuts.

Filming “Lady Parts” made me realize there was still so much healing I had yet to do. Sure, I had done the pelvic floor therapy, dilators, and even sex. I had neglected to take care of my mind and my emotions. I wrote it all out, never thinking it’d see the light of the day and other people’s faces. My entire 26-27 years of life, exposed and out there. It was everything to me. I birthed a baby (film) with no maternity leave, just straight back to work and a Shiva. So many chapters began to close. The film wrapped up, my relationship ended, my grandfather died, my job gave me a pay cut and less hours, and my therapist went on leave, I saw the penguins on the beach, and finally here I am. Alone, no alarm clock, just typing away on a screen again like it’s 2016. I blinked and a 29 cycle is coming close to complete. Everything is so different than how it used to be and I’m oddly ambivalent about the whole thing.

Now I face the scariest question of them all, what comes next? For the first time in 29 years I feel completely lost. I have moved across country, slept on an air mattress for 3 years, and spent all my money, just to do this. Now what? What will even compare or come close? What journey will be starting as I turn 30 at the end of the year? I constantly have to ask myself if it is okay not to know? Will the answer come to me sitting in an aesthetic coffee shop in the upper east side? Or one day will I wake up and just feel this urgent need to write again?

That is the hardest lesson of my 20s. Each year you create sandcastles in a forever wave, trying to capture the beauty of each one till it eventually washes away. The work on yourself never ends. That all good things come to an end, and create space for more good things to come your way, even if it feels like a major loss at the time. 99% of the time you have no control of any of it. If you can find just one person who relates, then you’ve accomplished it all.

So, what’s next? You tell me.  

Until next time, please enjoy this photo of me holding expensive chicken tenders while dressed as 1989 World Tour Taylor Swift at the Eras Tour Met Life