Crossroads

Now is the time the song "Gypsy" by Fleetwood Mac is playing. I have been through three major transformations in my life. One was when I left home. The second was after a breakup with a boyfriend of 4.5 years, and I bought my salon. The third was when I got a divorce, finished school, and moved from St. Louis back to California with all my belongings in my car, alone. Now, the count is at four.

I am taking an honest look at what I want to do next with my life. Obviously, travel is the most important thing I can do and what makes me a full and good person. It gives me an astonishing sense of self worth that nothing ever has.

I am back in San Francisco, after having lived in Brazil, and I'm not getting the results I had expected. So, I need to change. Does that change involve a career move? After having done hair for 16 years and being an artist for, well, my entire life, maybe it's time to consider going to school to become a travel writer. The travel channel has an institute, workshops that teach people how to write and produce videos about travel. They have connections to the world of magazines and websites who will actually pay for your stories. I don't expect to be a paid writer in a day. I understand the romantic dream of being a travel writer, and the reality. Few people actually get paid to tell their stories. But some do. The question and the ultimate goal is becoming a person who does what they love and gets paid to do it.

My current job is taking its toll on me. I have energy, intellect and talent, ambition to work. But all my efforts seem to be fruitless. Fortunately, I'm unbreakable and I have so much love for myself and for life to give up my search for complete balance and freedom!

Growing up, I had very little freedom. I was sheltered, constantly being grounded for lying or getting poor grades. In fact, I didn't know how to order a pizza when I moved away from home. My parents always allowed a lot of independence, (they let me wear what I wanted, encouraged me to have a mind of my own). I always respected that. I also appreciate their respect for my privacy. They were mostly just and didn't believe in going through my things. I remember being reprimanded one time because a friend in college sent me a condom in a letter as a joke. I left it on my desk in my room because, well, I hadn't thought twice about it. My mom saw it and thought I was having sex, which I wasn't. They are very religious (dad is a deacon) and don't believe in sex before marriage. I was always amazed at what they would actually ground me for doing. I learned that going to church events was an acceptable way to get away from home. Don't get me wrong . . . I love my parents. But I can't say it wasn't a rocky road.

I always thought, when I'm grown up, I'm going to do whatever I want. And fortunately, I have been able to do exactly that. When I lived at home, I didn't have a curfew, and I thought that was fair. Most of my friends had a curfew. I never took advantage of not having a curfew. I just told my parents where I was, who I was with and when I would be home. I was a good kid. I was responsible. I had a paper route and saved money. My room was always clean. I did my homework and chores. I participated in clubs, sports and went to church every Sunday with my parents. I snuck out of the house once, and it was to TP a neighbor's house. I had a friend my parents didn't trust, and when she spent the night, my dad put a small piece of paper on the door knob that led to the garage. I had never planned to sneak out and it offended me that he went to these silly dishonest measures to try to trick me. I had a party when my parents went away on their anniversary weekend. It was so worth it. I needed to get it out of my system . . . actually doing something worthy of being punished for. All of the furniture in the family room was moved onto the backyard lawn, and I had to bring it back inside. A pair of my shorts were put in the medicine cabinet in the downstairs bathroom. I'm sure lots of alcohol was consumed. I didn't drink but a handful of times in high school. That night, I didn't drink because I had to take care of everyone else. I was innocent then. I felt a need to grow. Growing meant giving myself challenges, and that hasn't changed since I was a child.

I have to decide what to do next. The crossroads are inevitable and very real. Will I moved to LA where my two best friends live, and accept the job at the Beverly Hills salon? I'm intimidated by the expectations of working in Beverly Hills, and even think I may not be good enough, but someone recognized my talent and that's why the offer still stands. Do I finally leave my home in SF to seek out new opportunities? I'm a gypsy at heart but also a hard worker, and that affords the freedom that I so need. In a short time, I will be making a transition. I don't know what it is, but after thinking about it for two months, it's going to be as sudden and final and obvious as it was for me to buy my ticket to Brazil. The world is open and waiting. All possibilities are landing at my feet even though I feel shackled.