27.

I’m turning 27 on the 27th of this month. I don’t know what it is about that number that sounds so…old. I used to look forward to birthdays with the childlike exuberance usually reserved for Christmas Day, but this year it’s different. I want to do something special to commemorate this day – because that’s what birthdays are for, right? Commemorating your continued and hopefully long, meaningful existence. But it’s also just a day. Twenty-four hours that pass within the blink of an eye. I thought I’d share with you some of my innermost thoughts as “The Day” approaches, and my personal pledge moving forward. Maybe someone will relate and can find solace that they are not alone. Expect some rambling to ensue.

When I was little, I thought when I reached this age that I would be married with two adorable children, a dashing husband and that proverbial white picket fence enclosing our humble abode. I also hoped to be a famous actress/singer/musician extraordinaire. My childhood dreams could not be further from reality. While I was working as an actress for a bit, I ended up taking a hiatus and focusing on my day job, which provides more income. Now I’m higher up in the career food chain and working so much that I hardly have time for family, friends, a social life, etc. let alone time to focus on my acting career. I know I CAN make time if I so choose, but I also have a lot of monthly bills to pay: student loans, rent, medical bills, phone bill, the list goes on. Now I can’t tell if I’m working and saving money so I can have a better life, or if life is about incessantly working till you die. I see all these ads on the internet about people travelling while on a limited budget, and I’ve always wanted to travel the globe, to see life outside my bubble. To be free of financial worries and just “go wherever the wind takes me.” Easier said than done. As for romance? Dating in LA sucks. A lot. I’ve tried online dating. If I could snap a shot of some of the messages I’ve received and post them to Facebook, well…revisiting those messages would be too depressing. People try so hard to spruce up their profiles, boost their images with these white lies to make themselves sound more appealing that I can’t decipher fact from fiction. Am I speaking to a real person? I’m not trying to knock on the whole thing – my dad met my stepmom through online dating. I understand it does work for some people. But I’d rather run into someone in a library, or art gallery or some other place from my fantasies (maybe I should invent a dating site where you get matched with people that like the same books as you?). There’s also this thing called daily street harassment. I understand LA is a huge city and maybe a decent human male exists somewhere in its massive landscape. Maybe my expectations are too high because my father is an exceptional human male himself. My mother was horrible to him, but he never said a malicious thing about her. He showed me that some men truly do go above and beyond to show compassion for others, and from a young age I just expected all men to be like that.

I have such a love/hate relationship with this city. It has a way of making you feel so isolated, but then it opens its arms to you and reveals more facets that you didn’t know existed. More beauty than you thought possible. I’ve struggled with depression and anxiety my whole life. The depression rears its ugly head intermittently throughout the year, but is most prevalent usually right before my birthday. I guess seasonal changes play a part in it as well. I also have obsessive-compulsive tendencies that tie into all this. I know I’m anxious/stressed/depressed when I stand there and fold/refold a shirt 5 times just to make sure it’s perfect, or I keep setting and resetting an alarm clock to make sure it will go off in the morning. I lock a door 3 times to make sure it’s truly locked. Reread a sentence multiple times. Now I usually recognize the signs. I try to collect myself, take a deep breath…and stop. I had a mental breakdown at work last week. I usually try so hard to be friendly and upbeat, but being positive 24/7 when you aren’t a naturally positive person is exhausting, and I couldn’t keep up the charade anymore. I’ve always been afraid that I will turn into my mother – mentally broken, refusing help and ostracizing my children. I have moments where I think, “my life is better without her,” and moments like today where I was in the shower and simply thought, “I wish I could hug my mother,” and burst into tears. I wonder if she would like the person I am today.

I can’t go on Facebook anymore without cringing. Every post on my feed is politically charged, and usually cast in negative tones depending on the candidate the poster is supporting. Politics are polarizing. They fill people with hate. Both sides of the political spectrum are at each other’s throats, in a time when we need to stand unified. Why do we hate each other so much? Life is hard as it is. Everyone has the right to vote for whomever they choose, and even if I don’t agree with you at you’re exercising your right. One of the positives I’ve seen from this election is the ignited passion from young people, who are showing a rapidly growing interest in the state of our nation. I just wish more people would argue their stances in a respectful manner, Republicans and Democrats alike. Just be good people. I propose that from now until Election Day we all try to post more cute animal pictures to alleviate the political discord. Please?

So let’s look at 26: emotionally/mentally broken, working hard at a job that’s not the dream job, single, not an experienced world traveler…but alive. I’m alive. I have a roof over my head, and I can afford to pay my bills on time. Do I need children right this second? No. I need to fix my own issues first. Will I end up like my mother? No, because I won’t let that happen. Will I find love? Maybe someday, when I meet someone that is worthy of my attention. I like to think I’m staying single so I can shape myself into the best Melody that has ever lived. Will I continue on my creative path? Yes. I’m always thinking about what my therapist tells me: to make time, regardless of its span, to create. To sing. To write. To draw. To act. I have to remind myself of the courage it takes to pursue your dreams. I’ve always had undying support from my family, which I will be forever grateful for. And that everyone’s journeys are different. Mine veered from a traditional, small-town girl path. I’ve lived in two amazing cities, and seen sights that most people don’t get to see. Do I miss living in close proximity to my family? Of course, but I don’t think I would’ve had these experience without their encouragement, love and support.

27: I’m getting new headshots. I think it’s time to get back to the land of creativity. I really want to take a trip to Europe next year. UK/Ireland/Scotland. Maybe Denmark? I hear the Danish are very happy people. I’ll work on a book. Maybe keep writing this blog? I can talk about my inner demons, my depression, and maybe help someone who’s struggling with similar demons. I’ll keep singing. I’ll work on those unfinished scripts that are on my desktop. Maybe I’ll produce a short film. Take up the ukulele. Not apologize for taking time off, stop saying “sorry” so much. When the anxiety/depression hits, I ride the waves, with the knowledge that there is sunshine on the other side. I’m not alone. Getting older is not a death sentence. It’s a continued lease on life.

-Mel