August is a big time of change for many people right now. Some are heading to a new school and some might be hitting the job market. But today, I write about the August that lives in infamy. It’s been 10 years since the August of my most naive, yet most important, mistake of all time. The August I moved out for no legitimate reason.
I had been in college a while, pursuing a lucrative degree of learned homelessness (Musical theatre, for those of you unfamiliar with the field). It was fun, challenging, and exactly what I wanted to be doing. But, I was starting to get the hint that the job market wasn’t exactly exploding in the performing arts. I was starting to feel a bit of panic at what to do next. I was starting to think about growing up.
My sister was getting married & we, as a family, were all pretty involved in helping to remodel their future home. Painting on top of a ladder gave me a lot of time to think, which is incredibly dangerous. I was 23 and I really needed a change. A friend of mine was heading to ECU to finish her Bachelor of Fine Arts and she needed a roommate. I needed “grow up space”, so I figured, “why not?”
Money, or the lack thereof, has never stopped me. The day after my sister said her “I do’s” I packed up and headed to Greenville. I fixed up my bedroom, blissfully free of the Holly Hobby couture that had haunted me at home since the age of 5. I hit the pavement looking for work soon after moving and found myself completely out of my element. All of the college-y jobs were taken by college students. Other jobs expected applicants to have already finished college and majored in something somewhat relevant.
I finally found a job managing commercial traffic for a radio station and even got to do voice work for commercials. It was cool, but it barely paid the bills. Grocery shopping was a nightmare. My parents still sent me money, and I learned to budget like a mad woman. Five months later, the station opted to lay me off and hire interns that wouldn’t require benefits. It was a crushing blow. I packed up my little room, bid my friend goodbye, and headed back to Hertford with my last $60, which was robbed from me flamboyantly with a brick through my car window.
A terrific mistake by all accounts, the 6 months I spent “on my own” taught me a lifetime of skills. I learned to budget, I learned to shop, and I learned that my ideas are not even close to being as fabulous as God’s plan for me. I crawled back home to Mom & Dad as someone who had made a big mistake, yet learned a powerful lesson. I had grown up more than I thought possible. My favorite mistake shaped me into me.
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