What the f*$! am I doing?

When I got to England, I was very uncomfortable for the first week/month and the temporary discomfort was hard to sit with. I was starting at the bottom, and the mountain I was standing at the base of was deceiving, because I knew behind it was a whole mountain range of ground to cover. I had made this big decision to move country again and uproot, but this time felt different, because I felt like this path chose me and not the other way around. I was merely following orders and giving my purpose the floor. In a funny way, I felt like I was starting my actual life for the first time. The discomfort was a great motivator to keep me moving, and the more steps I took into the mountain range, the more magic started to show itself—like the perfect place to live, introductions to new friendships and communities—and I started that first month of morning’s saying: “I don't know what the f*$! I'm doing, but I’m doing it anyway.” This is what happened once I arrived in London...

I initially stayed with a friend I’d met through a musical theatre workshop I’d done the year prior. A couple dozen people from all over the world had come to London for a week to get a West End experience. We had to audition on arrival, and then we got cast in roles. We did singing, dancing and acting training and put on an hour-long showcase at the end of the week incorporating some of the most famous musicals. It was an incredible experience. We were treated like a real production company and had to learn choreography, lines, solo parts and ensemble pieces. What I loved most is how this group of strangers became a family, bonded by our love of theatre and self-expression. I think that’s what the creative arts does. It is a safe place where we can all meet in the middle and find our common humanity.

            My friend whom I stayed with had left an impression on me. On one particular day when we were rehearsing a death scene, I could not get out of my head to deliver my lines in the way they were meant to be. I’d spent so many years working on the other side of the camera in the film industry that I suddenly got so self-conscious and paralyzed by my fear of over-performing and people reacting like, “Whoa girl, calm down,” that I wasn’t giving my part any emotion. At one point she pulled me aside and said, “You can do it, I know you can. You have it in you,” and that reassurance from a 4-day old friendship instantly made me teary—that she even thought to tell me so.

            I stayed with her for my first two weeks in London. I was lucky to have a safe place to land. The first five mornings I woke up, each time opening my eyes having no idea where I was which happens when you reroute yourself to a new place. And every morning I’d say—what the f*$! am I doing? I came with no plan, just a suitcase, an album and my dream. I had no idea where to start, and all my comforts—my animals, closest friends—were far away.

            The first action I took was to go into Soho and buy a stage keyboard at Yamaha, and I ordered a stand for it as well. I picked the most complicated one you could get by accident, which has become a conversation piece at every open mic I’ve done. People always comment on it, because building it is like making IKEA furniture, and it takes minutes to do.

            During those first two weeks I spent endless hours looking for a room, and I cast out the wish that I would find one in my dream area of Richmond near it’s 2,500 acre park. When I wasn’t looking for a place to live, I would go for walks to Greenwich and sit in the rose garden behind Ranger House that serves as the Bridgerton’s Mayfair home in the series. I stumbled upon this place one day and returned many times to walk off my disbelief that I was in London starting over my life—again!

            Eventually I found a stop-gap place before I would find my main accommodation. I had joined a website where you could housesit people’s pets and stay there, and I’d found a family in Walthamstow who were going on vacation for two weeks and needed someone to mind their bunny rabbits. Their place was a beautiful oasis nestled behind the main market street, and I enjoyed finding little things like curd donuts at a local Lithuanian bakery.

            I did my first open mic in Camden when I was there, and I remember getting the train and being so incredibly nervous. When I got to the venue it was the type of place where people slurred over the music, but it was still a good experience. My nerves faded away once I started singing and I left there feeling uplifted by the fact that I was doing it—no matter how small the steps were that I was taking. With my choice to go to London, I had stopped waiting for permission to do it. I used to think I had to get noticed, discovered or be told by some industry professional that I was good enough first, but really the only person who needed to take notice and believe they were good enough was me.

            Just before my time of bunny babysitting was up, I had two things happen that would turn out to be big things. I happened upon a coffee meeting with a group called Amplify Her for women in the music industry, and I was introduced to the founder Andrea Dee who would become my mentor and help me develop a strategy for Romantic Girl. The other thing was I just happened to check for new listings for rooms one morning, and a room in Richmond came up right by Richmond Park at an impossibly affordable rate, and I immediately went to go see it. When I got there, the lodger who would become one of my closest friends today, had informed me that someone had rented it and was due to move in, but pulled out at the last second—and, I think this was fateful!

            And so—one month into my time in London, I had managed to find my dream spot and meet a like-minded community that would help lay the foundation to my dreams. Next time—I’ll talk about getting settled in Richmond and how my plans started to go from ideas plucked from the air to seeds I could plant. The good thing about London, is you are always sure to find a little rain to make them grow.