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The Plan: Take The Plunge Or Risk Bobbing Along Forever!

There are approximately 19 months, 7 days and 10 hours until I reach the end of my party days. Until I am meant to be grown up, have a relationship that is ‘going somewhere’, some serious cash for a rather large house, a career that I am dedicated to, blah, blah, blah. The thought of this makes me want to projectile vomit over those words I’ve just written. It feels totally suffocating. What’s more suffocating is the fact that I’m wasting my twenties in a job I have little interest in, and can feel the panic rising as my dreams of doing something I love, whittle away from listening to far too many people tell me that I need to stay in my job because it’s a safer place to be. I don’t like to play it safe. But it’s super scary to even take the first steps of telling people your crazy thoughts, to start making things become reality. I mean, your friends actually listen to your hair-brain ideas and then when they see you a few weeks down the line, ask questions about how it’s going! Do they not realise that I have actually no idea myself what the heck I’m doing and am actually too scared to take any steps forward?! Do they not realise I’m all talk and no balls?! Well, mostly anyway.

The first idea consisted of becoming an extremely successful make-up artist. It lasted 9 months properly, where I stalked every creative ‘dharling’ in the business. Things started to take off. I panicked and promptly ‘retired’ as a fashion make-up artist before I had really begun. I’m actually glad this happened in a way. I don’t think I could have put up with most of the people I came across and knew there was a reason why I left drama school in a previous life. It was my first taste of doing something that I briefly, was completely obsessed with. Every thought, every breath, and every word was make-up.

So now I’m hooked on the thrill of maybe risking it all. This office job has never fulfilled me, and if I don’t get on with my true dream (which, by the way, feels way more realistic than the sideline of becoming an artiste), I risk bobbing along for the rest of my life, feeling as though I’m missing out on a life that, if only I had the guts to give a go, I would be living.

Let us begin…

 

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