I remembered today a time in my life that seems like a lifetime ago. While my teammates were and are some of the best people I've ever known, I was doing a job that had me so stressed that my body was trembling 24 hours a day and my hair was falling out. I felt strangled by the regulations that controlled my wardrobe, schedule and how often I answered the phone or responded to an email. I hated the fear that formed a knot in my stomach on the elevator not knowing what my inbox would look like on any given day or what new report I wasn't measuring up to. I cried on the way to work and on the way home.
I would sit at my desk or go to an empty office and stare out at the Atlanta skyline wondering why I wasn't doing something I enjoyed. Why wasn't I in some studio building sets or dancing or putting finishing touches on costumes or painting, gluing, nailing, taping...?
Today I spent the day at the Los Angeles Museum of Contemporary Art working on my boss' residency debut. I crawled around the floor in mismatched clothes helping to build 50 ft walls and an 18 foot divider. I cut, punched holes, reinforced, and tied together. I witnessed a space being transformed. I planned for the studio. I rehearsed and then watched my boss sew costumes in his hilltop house.
Tomorrow I'll be laying carpet on asphalt, re-tying, cutting, taping, dancing, running lights and celebrating.
I am tired.
I am covered from head to toe in fiberglass and itching like mad.
I am rejoicing at the realization of the answer to a whispered prayer.
I am free.
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