standing on an empty plot of land

I feel like I’ve failed. Truly. Which might be one of the scariest sentences I’ve ever written. And. I cannot believe I’m even contemplating sharing it with anyone. Because it’s somehow one of the most shameful, embarrassing statements one can make about oneself.

Before I tell you why I’m a failure - I want to dwell on that previous sentence. Why is it so embarrassing? It’s such a universal experience. And I’ve been told that I’ll inevitably look back and think - “look how much I’ve grown!”1. And they’re right, aren’t they? I know it's true because if I look back at previous failures I can see it. The growth. So why is it embarrassing if it’s necessary to the path of becoming? Which we’ve established it is. I’ll tell you why: capitalism.

“Steph not all problems lead back to capitalism”

Wanna bet?

Maybe if you’ve spoken to me at all since moving to the US and let me rant to you for even a moment about what the crazy capitalist mindset of this country has done to my spirit, this will not be a surprise. It’s been soul crushing.

I was very good at school from a young age. It was a system that rewarded me. I understood it. I got good grades and then I got into a good university. I did the thing you were supposed to do. I got a fancy degree and then … horror of horrors, I moved to London to ACT. Ugh. Gasp. Vom. And I had a small voice in my head going WHAT ARE YOU DOING. And honestly in that first year when I was sitting on a bus at 4am on my way to a catering job where I had to iron table cloths before the sun came up and then serve breakfast to wealthy people for £7.20 an hour - that voice got pretty loud. Especially when I was watching my peers make six figure salaries for creating powerpoint presentations. But I was so sure. I knew I was meant to be doing the creative thing. Over time I got better side gigs and I actually became pretty fucking proud of the fact that I managed to build a life where I could support myself as I pursued what I wanted to be doing. That sense of pride, that sense of accomplishment, that sure sense of self I had carried me through the more difficult moments.

And then I moved here.

Within six months, I suddenly found myself turning to Christian after a weekend away with his friends (all doctors and lawyers) asking him if he was embarrassed by me and the decisions I had made. My goal in life is not to make a lot of money. I have chosen to do something with my life that in all likelihood is never going to be lucrative (financially). I’d never felt ashamed of that decision before. I’d never questioned my internal compass. And there I was, feeling newly embarrassed2.

important sidebar:

This could well be a post on its own. I have come to realise something incredibly important - in a country where health care is a privilege not a right so many other elements become privileges as well. Such as choosing a career in the arts. If one does not have access to universal health care, then choosing a path that requires you to make enough money either from your art consistently or from a flexible job that allows you to pay for your own health insurance, choosing that career is now a privileged decision. I can only be a actor in this country because I am married to a doctor and get healthcare. Privileged.

Here’s my radical take:

This should not be a privileged position. Because access to healthcare should not be a privilege.

So of course in a country where basic rights become commodities and for profit industries your main goal has to be making money. Your literal life is on the line.

And that’s why failure is embarrassing3. One of the reasons anyway. Because you failed to produce. And then it has very real consequences. Ah Capitalism.

I think another reason it’s embarrassing is because it means you have to show you care. We love passion when it comes with success. It’s a little hard to look at someone’s passion when it doesn’t.

So today I am making a choice to be embarrassing. I feel like a failure. If I think about where my sixteen year old self thought I would be in my career by now - yikes. She would not be impressed. And I’m not saying I’ve done nothing. I know that’s not true. But it feels really hard to admit that I’m also really really not where I thought I would be. And at a time in life when I see peers becoming bosses, having babies, building their lives - I feel awkward holding a couple of two-by-fours, a hammer, and 20 unbuilt blueprints while I have friends who have built magnificent houses (metaphorically, not literally4).

It makes me not want to go to my college reunion.

I think I am writing this because it feels lonely here. Standing on an empty plot of land with some - I am running with the building metaphor for a little longer - foundations of buildings but nothing that’s come off the ground yet. Nothing you can see from the other side of the street.

And we weren’t built to be lonely.

Despite the capitalist hellscape nightmare we find ourselves in creating more and stronger isolation, we weren’t built to be lonely.

So if you’re standing on a plot of land that doesn’t look quite like you thought it would, I get it.

And I have to somehow make peace with my sixteen year old self and her ambitions. I’m not quite sure how to do that. Yet. But today I think I am going to get up and do something that my ninety-five year old self (if I am lucky enough to make it that far and if Trump doesn’t end the world with a nuclear war5) would appreciate I do with my thirty-three year old body. Because I’m actually still young. And I have time. And I did say that failure was all a part of the journey and has anyone told you it’s character building or some bullshit? That’s what I’ve heard anyway.