Grooves

1

"Okay, bye." Sighing as I pulled onto the street, the immediate guilt hit me. She wasn't trying to be rude, and I don't think she meant to cross boundaries, but I still felt angry. I fought the urge to call back and go into a long-winded explanation, laying out why I left modeling and turned to acting instead. That was my nature; making other people upset or mad made me feel incredibly uncomfortable. I'd spent many hours discussing this with my therapist. I knew where that came from, and I even knew what my mind was trying to achieve by making me feel this discomfort, but it never got any easier.

Setting boundaries was hard.

I mused over this as I took the familiar route, one I'd done many times over the last few weeks as I'd gone to countless auditions and meetings for this role. Setting these boundaries was hard, and I hadn't yet found the fruit of my labors. It just meant I sat with these uncomfortable feelings longer and upset the people in my life. I knew one day it'd pay off, but waiting was almost harder than acting. Allowing myself some grace, I thought of the boundaries I had been forced to set within my modeling career; those types of boundaries are even harder, especially with your livelihood at risk. But I'd done it, time and time again, until it was apparent that they'd continually be tested. I refused to live my life like that.

My phone pinged as I pulled into the parking garage of 10 Entertainment five minutes later, my possible place of employment; the job was just at my fingertips. I had been extremely lucky being picked up by a plus size modeling company in college, and, barring any discomfort, my luck would continue with this role.

I was early, so I allowed myself to check my phone before climbing out of my car. A text from my mom shone up at me from the screen, a link to some unknown website. It was probably some article about the hazards of the prescription I was taking, or some zucchini recipe; either was possible. Deciding not to give myself more reason to be irate, I didn't open the link. Instead, I slipped my phone in my pocket, slid the band of my wallet over my wrist, and grabbed the manilla envelope with my script in it. I stepped out of my car; my keys just fit into my wallet, so I dropped them in after locking the doors and zipped it up.

Thankful that I was able to snag a spot close to the elevator into the building, I walked quickly over, feeling the familiar twist of nerves in my stomach as the elevator arrived on my level. My anxiety had seemed to be at an all-time high, which wasn't surprising; career changes would do that to anyone. I was hoping that the more accustomed I came to the acting world, the easier it would be to calm my anxiety. I had dealt with the gut wrenching feeling my entire life in increments, and even after almost 5 years in the model industry, that feeling would surface at random times. It was hard to function sometimes; if it had just been the twisting in my stomach, I could power through. Oftentimes, it was the racing heart and feelings of being constrained to the point of exploding that made it hard to face some days.

Made it hard to breathe some days.

That feeling came more frequently in my last few months of modeling. There were times when the only way I could make it through is if I took 10-minute-long bathroom breaks in between shoots; other times, shoots had to be rescheduled because leaving the house was just not in the cards for me. Those days were ones I still struggled to accept.

Stepping out of the elevator, I was simply thankful that the anxiety was only gut level today.

"Hello, how are you today?" I smiled at the receptionist, Grace, and her greeting.

"Good, thank you. How about you?"

"Good, good. Would you like me to let Mr. Killden know that you have arrived?"