My sister painted this on a found window in memory of Sasha.

This week I decided to look somewhere different for inspiration. I asked my friend Melissa to ask her kindergartener, Aerie, what I should write about. She said I should do a compare and contrast “then and now'“ of my life. (I’m not kidding, she’s in kindergarten and that’s what she said.) I asked her how many years apart I should do, she said to do when I was twenty-years-old to now. Who am I to argue with a future genius? So here we go!

The day I turned twenty, our family cat Sasha was put to sleep. I was dating my first long-term boyfriend, Matt. He had just adopted a kitten. Ash. I remember that my birthday was on a Monday because although my parents didn’t want to put Sasha to sleep then, they couldn’t wait any longer and it was the first day the vet was open. I knew that she was gone as soon as I answered the phone and my dad was the first one on instead of my mom. He said happy birthday and then told me about Sasha. I later went over to Matt’s apartment and hugged his cat. I think he took me to dinner.

With radio station friends at Mardi Gras.

That same year, Matt and I broke up. We had different ideas of what we wanted a long term relationship to look like and it was hard. I remember actually thinking that I might never meet another person as old as I was (ha!) and I might end up spending the rest of my life alone, but decided that I could do it. I embarked on an exciting (often dramatic) couple of years of dating.

When I was twenty years old, I was in college at LSU, double majoring in Theatre and Mass Communication. I was considering a trip abroad to England and had to do a lot of filling out applications, getting approval, choosing which schools I wanted to apply to, etc. At the same time, I was very comfortable at LSU and starting to gain some ‘traction.’ I had a really good timeslot as a DJ at the radio station, I was beginning to feel like I was moving to the ‘A-list’ in casting at the theatre school, part of me didn’t know if I wanted to leave with everything going so well. (I was the only one to get into my top choice school, I went, I have no regrets.)

At twenty I had also developed a great circle of friends. Two circles, actually. I had radio station friends and theatre friends. I knew where I fit in the world and I knew who I could trust.

At twenty I didn’t know where I was going to go when I graduated. I knew I didn’t want to stay in Louisiana. I knew I wanted to give acting a good shot. I hoped maybe I’d be able to write a little. I didn’t want to have to move home or starve. I figured that I’d take this life-changing trip to England and I’d have an epiphany while I was there and I’d come back, finish things up, get my two degrees and know where I was going to go.

I didn’t get that epiphany. When I did get home from England, I was lost because—although I knew it would—everything had changed while I was gone. It took me a while to fit back into certain circles. Although I got back to work at the radio station, they wouldn’t give me any DJ slots. Instead I started in production. (By the second semester, I was on the executive team as the first female chief announcer in KLSU history, but I didn’t know that was coming.) All the theatre circles had changed. Fortunately, my acting had changed too and I landed a mainstage show right after returning. It was an Oscar Wilde. My accent was excellent.

Upon graduating, I settled on moving to Chicago because a friend of mine had gone to visit another friend and written a group email about how great it was and how much theatre and opportunity was there. So, sight unseen, I decided I would go to Chicago. At least there was public transportation. And being a secretary in Chicago sounded better than being one in Baton Rouge. (To twenty-year-old me.)

Now I’m forty-three.

I gave that acting thing in Chicago a damn good shot for seventeen years. I also did a lot of other things while I was there. I got my black belt. I got and lost a Hedwig. I got a Jake. I worked in accounting—I know! It was terrible. I always did write. Either for Examiner.com, CBS Local, or on my own blog. I fought! I punched and kicked people in public locally, nationally, and internationally. Which I started while I was there. I gathered two new circles of friends; theatre friends and martial arts friends. I found my husband. I started a career in fitness. I started racing. I started bike commuting. I got hit on my bike twice and survived both times.

You know, like you do when you get married?

At some point, something weird happened. I was too far away. I wanted to be closer to the family that I had so blithely said goodbye to (twice) in my early twenties to go to both England and then Chicago. Katrina and other hurricanes had happened since then and they were no longer in Louisiana. But I still thought I might like to be closer. Dean and I looked into Nashville and Louisville. We decided on Nashville. We made an enormous cross country move in 2019 just before I turned forty-one. You all know what happens next. Our apartment catches fire. We struggle for a bit. We get things somewhat stable and purchase our first house together. There’s a tornado. A pandemic immediately after. Jake dies. We keep on. Eventually the pendulum starts to swing the other way.

Now:

I’m only four hours away from my family. Dean and I are comfortable. He has a job that is fulfilling to him with people that he enjoys. He’s doing podcasts on the side the fuel his creativity. I have a job in the publishing industry. It’s fulfilling and I enjoy it! I’m writing my ass off and prepping one of my works for submission. I’m also auditioning to be a narrator on a short story podcast. I have new friends. I have my writing friends and I have my volleyball friends. (Oh, yeah, I started playing volleyball and I am terrible, but it’s fun.) And Aang and Cloud. How could I forget that there’s an Aang and a Cloud.

I also still have some old friends I’ve collected on the way. I have Natasha, my ride or die, who I collected when I was ten. I still have a couple of those college friends on the periphery that raise their head every so often. I hung on to a few of those martial arts friends (some were in my wedding!) and some of those theatre friends. Facetime is fun.

When I look back at my twenty-year-old self, I’m proud of her for taking some leaps and for surviving some of the weird things she survived.

I think that if twenty-year-old me looked at forty-three year old me, she’d be pretty happy at how cool I turned out.

Then and Now: A couple decades later