Tracy's Guest Post: Innovation = Rebirth

I've known Tracy since our freshman year in college and it wasn't until our sophomore year that we realized, holy crap! we have a LOT in common!
I asked her to write a post because 1) I love her and her writing style and 2) I think she's going through a major life shift right now, and believe that what she is going through will resonate with a lot of artists who feel stagnant and scared to power through.

I didn't know that I was a major force in it; I just figured if I yelled at her loud enough, she'd realize that I was just saying the same things she already knew: that it's time for a change.  An innovation - the same Tracy, only better.

A Rebirth.

A Phoenix. 

Enjoy.
xoxo
Lira

                            

Hi. My name is Tracy. I'm an actress, a Gemini, and I hate change.

It came to my attention one sunny day, as my friend Lira was shrieking
hysterically at me while helping me pack up my apartment, that a change
was needed in my life. I was with the same representation who had not sent
me out on auditions for quite some time; I had the same "please don't
notice I'm alive, thanks" haircut I'd had since approximately 7th grade; I was treating my acting career as little more than a hobby; and I was
possibly wearing the same t-shirt from the day before.

Possibly.

We all get stuck in ruts, right? Life hurls lemons at our heads so we sort
of duck into the recess of our sofas and stay there for a couple years. We
just want everything to be quiet and in its right place and change is
scary and uncomfortable and it requires energy and time and re-arranging
our lives and occasionally our furniture. There's also always the
uncertainty that the changes we do make in life aren't going to be for the
better but for the worse, and we'll end up looking longingly at the past,
wistful for what we once had and kicking ourselves that in our ingratitude
we didn't see what we had until it was gone.

Do you know how baby eagles learn to fly? (I'm going somewhere with this,
this isn't me trying to avoid the subject.) They learn to fly because the
mother eagle, after a few weeks of being patient with her little eaglets,
decides to put rocks into her nest, making it so uncomfortable for her
little babies to be stuck up there that they decide, "hell with this" and
bail, their little wings furiously flapping because they are pretty damn
sure (and correctly so) that nothing can be more uncomfortable than a rock
lodged into your backside.

Lira is one of those rocks. Or possibly a mother eagle, I haven't decided
yet.

She pushes me, time after time, to go to metaphorical places in my life
that I find strange and uncomfortable, places that I have worked hard to
avoid ever going to, and to have those difficult conversations with others
and to do what scares me most- to change, to adapt, to cope and thrive,
instead of hiding in my cave and consuming large quantities of frozen
yogurt while watching re-runs of Buffy.

Most of all, Lira pushes me to believe in myself. I'll be honest here,
kids: my faith in myself is at an all-time low. Because the worst thing
about never changing our lives is that slowly but surely, we start to
believe that we don't even have the POWER to change our lives. That we
don't deserve it. That we aren't worthy of the good that will come when we
take those initial steps to change what we do not like about our
ourselves, our relationships, or our situations.

That's when a real friend steps in, helps you pack up your apartment while
you're completely overwhelmed, then raises her voice at you about why
you're still in the same place you were in five years ago, then raises her
voice some more when you comfort your now hysterical cat who doesn't
understand why there is screaming going on.

Thank you, Lira. A million times thank you. I'm going to be great someday
and you're gonna be beaming and nudging people and saying, "Did I tell you
about the time I yelled at her?"

swan dive,
Tracy