Leaving on a jet plane...

Don't know when I'll be back again.

I've said my goodbyes, I've eaten and drunk myself into a coma, nearly. I've done the shitty prep. The tax return, the ironing, the washing, the bank transfers... Hair torn out, sleepless nights and I'm done. I'm nearly ready. 

I've dreamt of this sort of trip for a really long time. Since I was eleven and I played Blousy in the school play, I've wanted to go to Hollywood. And then I'm at the airport... And I can't feel anything. Well, none of the feelings I thought I might. I take a deep breath. Remember this moment. Be in this moment. Pinch myself, fart, do something to recall this exact moment where I am sitting on a plane, about to fly across the ocean, to another country, for three months. 

We can tweet tweets and state status's. Post pics on instagram of how amazing life is right now. Because it is. It's freaking amazing. But... Honestly. This moment suddenly feels bigger than me. Suddenly the intensity of disappearing for three months, spending a lot of money following a dream that is so fragile and unsteady, being away from friends and family for longer than I've ever been away from them ever... Suddenly I think I may have not just farted, but sharted instead.  

The moment feels bigger than me, because it is far beyond anything I can comprehend, but also, so right and obvious that it would be part of my journey, that essentially, I feel like I am dreaming. People keep saying things like 'good luck superstar' and 'see you when you've made it' and part of me cannot process the thoughts. I know people are rooting for me. Excited for me. But I feel pressure. Pressure to come back with a star on the Hollywood walk of fame, pressure to be in Titanic 2, pressure to be on cribs, or become bessies with Kimye... Yes I said Kimye. I have a slight panic... and then, I have a reality check. This is just about having an adventure and experiencing a life I wanted to experience since I was eleven in Bugsy Malone. It's just a little part of my journey. A snap chat of an existence based around a dream I had of heading to the land of opportunity. It is just a stepping stone onto whatever else is next in my life. 
I could meet Brad Pitt for christ sake and become his third wife, hey... Brandgelina might even adopt me.

As I came to the end of my adventures in LA the last time, I reflected on the five weeks that had been, and shit myself that that five weeks had been and gone in a flash. We plan and prep and look forward to such events and more often than not concentrate on the lead up far more than the actual event itself. Always forward thinking, always planning for the future. Even whilst I have been here the last couple of days I have caught myself a few times, wondering what it is going to be like when I arrive home. I've had to stop myself from the panic that I know may ensue. The sheer overwhelmness of coming back to the real world like a deer in head lights and keeling over at the mere mention of grey skies, rain and the London Underground... No no no I cant do it...

I'll be honest, part of me is freaking scared. I'm scared/anxious/worried of a million things that I don't want to mention. I'm worried of coming back and everything being the same. Worried that I will always look at the price tag on clothes, that I will return to a day job I don't like, that I won't be content, that I won't book regular work, that I'm following the wrong dream, that I will somehow disappoint people if I don't come back with a blockbuster movie deal and stories of how Elton John massaged my feet whilst Emma stone bought us shots and I am worried that 'I' will come back disappointed that Elton didn't massage my feet or I didn't do shots with Emma Stone.

A teacher said to me once that worry was the egos way of protecting itself from the pain they believed was coming their way. 'If I worry about the plane crashing, or the boyfriend cheating, or the lack of job I have or the five things off my list that I didn't do' then when all of those things happen, I will not feel as bad about them. I will have predicted, prepared for said shit to hit the fan and there for when covered in said shit, It will not phase me, perhaps I wont even smell it. It turns out... I was wrong! Just because we predicted being covered in feces, will not make being covered in poo any less traumatic. Instead you will have spent hours, days, weeks, months, in a negative, shitty (mind the pun) state of mind, to inevitably, what is SHIT anyway and will not BE any less SHIT because of said prediction. My teachers shortened version was... 'Worrying that the plane will go down, will NOT make it any less painful when it does'

As an actor, you get asked such questions as, 'When's your big break then?' Or 'You want to be in Easterners right?'or 'When are you gong to give up?' And I would quite like to ask... 'When are you going to give up your day job?' There is no definitive answer. There is no, (If I don't come back with a job in Curly Sue 2 or Fast and Furious 12 then I quit) This just is it... and no worrying otherwise will help.

These are the days... THE days, the ones we look back on and go 'Sheeet, I did that, I went there, I met them...' Those days are now . Brene Brown (my own personal Guru) says that the difference between people who resist joy (grumpy fearful people) and the people who accept joy less grumpy fearless people), is that the people who accept joy practise gratitude. Horrendously, practising gratitude was not built in me innately. It wasn't that I was ungrateful, it is just that my pattern was to focus my energy on the crap that went wrong that week, or the things I didn't get done and it was less easy to focus on the small little things that happened that made my day/week wonderful. 
So now I have the 'ten things I am grateful for' list and it helps me remember to enjoy every second because... these are the days!