So my fresh out of college self ran out of money a little while ago, and had to move back in with mommy. For a while it was wonderful, as things are. I had a free place, I got to see my mom and my younger siblings all the time, I got to play with my puppies... And then things started to wear on me. My work is so far away, my friends are so far away, I spend more time driving in a week than I do sleeping, I would rather pay rent than have to fill up my 16 freeking gallon tank every week... And so I started a housing hunt.
When this began, I was Assistant Stage Managing a show in DC, so the commute would have been about the same even if I did live where I wanted rather than at home. But now I'm working at a box office, which is awesome and I love it, I know everyone who works there and I'm learning the system and everything like that, but it is still at least a 30 minute drive from the second I put the car in drive to when I pull into a space. Which for a job that's paying $8.50 an hour, thats a metric fuck ton of driving.
In between working in DC and working at the box, I worked at an Acting Summer Camp for kids, Acting for Young People, which is legitimately the most amazing place I've ever worked, I'm not even kidding. I have the best boss ever, and the most awesome co-workers, and then there's the gratification of getting to teach kids and having them learn things and see a product... It's just so incredible, if you have kids you should look it up and try it out because, and this isn't just me as an employee saying this, we do some awesome work. But I digress out of commercial mode, so while I was working there I was doing the same commute that I am now, except at 7:30/8:00 in the morning, 495 is a whole different beast than it is at 9:00. I was driving for at least 45 minutes if not an hour every morning to get to work. Now, some people may be like "oh that's nothing, I commute from Mannassas to North East DC every day" but for me, driving an hour in rush hour is just ... oh what's the word... infuriating? disgusting? those and several other adjectives could probably all fit.
So a few weeks ago, a friend and former roommate of mine, told me about a room in her townhouse that was becoming available and asked if I would be interested. Uh, YEAH. So I like found out all the details and started figuring out my budget and all of that, and I can totally swing this place with money left over for gas and groceries and student loans and all that crap. So I sign the lease and set it all up to move in about halfway through the month, figure that'll give me plenty of time to get all my stuff together and tell Mom I'm leaving.
And of course disaster strikes.
My grandma decides that it's time for her and my granddad to move out of the home they've lived in for 40 years to an apartment. My mom, who's already involved with at least two plays at two different theaters, and has a recently new job as an administrative assistant, is the closest in proximity out of my grandma's kids. We live literally around the corner, so obviously the task falls upon us to help her start the moving process. Lemme tell ya, this has been the most stressful, bruise filled, injury laden few weeks. My aunt and uncle came into town finally to help us out, thank God. So the second we've got everything out of the house and sorted into the apartment, donations, and trash, and everyone goes back home, and we've had the house to normal for a minute, I tell mom that I'm gonna move.
Now of course I don't just say "Mom, I've found a place to live, and I'm gonna move out." If only I had...
Something about the way I worded it, and the way that the words went from my brain, out my lips and into Mom's mind, she conjured up some sort of doubt that I would move out. That I wouldn't really go, that I wanted to move out in order to help her and my siblings sell our house and move on with their lives, that if she told me how much (she thinks) she needs me that I would stay.
Now I'm in quite the pickle. Because in all my years of theater training and plays and gossip, I've never come across a situation quite as confounded as the one I've put myself into. I've talked with both my best friends about how to say things, and the actor in me seems to have a great ability to create a monologue, but a intense fear of performing it in front of her audience. I can rehearse and reason my way from here to China and back, I could probably write, choreograph and perform a broadway musical number for it as long as Mom wasn't in the audience. but I have no guarantee that I'll actually get myself to say simply what I want to. It wouldn't be hard. I've written out exactly what I want to say twice, two different ways, and thought through it so many more times... I just can't seem to get the courage to say "screw timing, I need to do this now."
About five months ago, when I first realized I would be needing to move in with Mom, I was dating this one guy, and everything was awesome but I was so afraid that when I moved, I would lose him. Since then a LOT has happened, but I turned out being right. Granted, moving wasn't the only reason that we ended up breaking up, but still. I have this really bad habit of once I get something in my head, or I decide I'm going to do it, nothing can stop me. And that's how it is now. But I've never had to explain to someone WHY I want to do what I've decided I'm going to do. And I'm so afraid that if I don't fix it soon, I'm going to end up absolutely, completely and utterly, screwed.
