This Photo Isn't Pretty
Written by: Alycia Ripley
I once learned through a trip to Sedona, AZ that everyone has 'power locations,' places, and people whose energies match yours, providing opportunities and a like-minded tribe. These regions boost productivity and energy that vibe with industry opportunities, climate, health, etc.
For me, that's not my hometown.
There are many nice things about where I grew up: architecture, food, inexpensive things to do. Nice people. Natural beauty. But if you thought those attributes equate to a place being 100% for you, I hate to disappoint. But you can't feel guilty about it. The longer you squeeze into a shoe that doesn't fit, the faster your happiness carriage drives away and you're stuck chasing it in your Chuck Taylors, (admittedly cooler than high heels, but still.)
There's a reason screenplays often boast locations that serve as characters in themselves. A sense of place feeds and develops us. Don't settle until you're happiest. Until your place works for you. Put it to work, take it to task. Evaluate if you can build a tribe within its parameters. Judge the amount of times you smile when walking outside. Do the people make you feel inspired or as if you're watching a party through a window, unable to find the entry door?
New Year’s Eve, 2000. I wore a silver beaded tank dress and heels. It was freezing, snowing, and an agonizing effort to find an activity that justified this outfit. Something in me felt lost, and simply, off. I had six months left as a college student and was headed to New York City after graduating. I'd miss my house and friends and the familiar, but the home didn't fit in the manner NYC, D.C, and Boston did. It couldn't help me and I had little to offer it. It was that night as I studied a Mapquest direction and stared out the window that I knew in order to feel better, a location shift was necessary. The place and I had outgrown each other.
But WOW did I try to force it on later occasions. (I can force things with the tenacity of Einstein and passion of Shakespeare—it's a talent...but an altogether waste of time.) Each visit home was intended as temporary but I gave staying there my all because I missed my mother, stepfather, and the ease of life my friends back home appeared to have. When working in the always-uphill entertainment industry, ease and simplicity are appealing. But each time I tried, the universe snapped back with a GIANT 'No.'
When I tell you I've applied for hundreds of work opportunities back home and been rejected, this isn't low-balling. I tried to be there because it was comfortable, familiar, and I knew the deal even when outside of it. Even when I needed something different and they didn't need what I was. I applied for every writing-based job and could paper my office with rejections—had I gotten any. Often I just never heard back at all. What writing opportunities there were couldn't pay much and that was the point of being home—to save up for the next situation. But anything I tried just never worked. This was the universe rolling its eyes and saying I'm trying to help you kid but you're not holding up your end of the deal. The moment I returned to places I vibed with, networks were created, opportunities manifested, and I heard 'Yes' more than 'No.' My high school art teacher once said, “There's someplace that's going to appreciate and want to make money off of you. Get there.”
So I did. Even if I came back and forth while I worked elsewhere. And then...the pandemic happened. At first, it was great. My FOMO faded because there were no places or events to worry about getting to. I had all the time in the world to work. But after a year, the place and I lost patience with each other. I could almost hear it say, What more do you want from me, and my response: More than you've got to give. The ultimate dysfunctional relationship.
The bridge in this photograph felt like a personification of being stuck, believing that I'd ghosted the universe enough times not fully committing to my better places, that my round-trip ticket had turned one-way. But then I remembered... I'm an adult. A poor imitation of one, perhaps, but I can un-stick myself in a way I couldn't when I was 6 or 16 or 21. We all can. We don't need to remain in the wrong place. When the pandemic subsides I can travel and work in places that move me forward. Location is fluid. We can gypsy our way out of anywhere that doesn't serve us. You can always find a way to leave, even part-time, and go someplace your mind and heart feel happiest.
We all have different circumstances, family structures, and lifestyles. But never let anything keep you within a place that isn't a fit. Roots can shift, kids adapt. We grow.
This photo isn't pretty. Sometimes truth is not. But it reminded me that I didn't beg and pray for a safe life all those years and while staring at the lights on New Year’s Eve, Y2K. I begged and prayed for an exciting one.
You can always go home again. It would love to see you. You just don't always need to stay.
Q&A Time:
Q: What unexpected joy have you discovered that was only possible from being removed from your comfort zone?
A: I moved to LA, Hawaii, and Australia without really knowing anyone. It wasn't always easy but I trusted my inner tools to navigate people, places, & situations. I love adventures & discoveries & sometimes like being alone to explore. I only wish Instagram had been around during those times!
About the Author:
Alycia Ripley is the author of several published works, including three novels and one memoir, as well as a frequent contributor to notable national magazines. You can more about Alycia on Alyciaripley.com and on Insta @talentedmsripley.