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My rehearsal has finished on time. It’s 6:30 and my meeting is at 6:50.  If I get a cab right out my front door, which is likely, I will make it on time.

Rule #1 of the overly committed:  Always be on time. If you are not on time, your over commitments have taken control and you are no longer a superhero – just a bad planner.  Today’s schedule is pretty packed, but I am feeling confident and organized.

7am – 4pm: Work at café
4pm – 5pm: Prepare for rehearsal and change clothes
5pm – 6:30pm: Rehearsal
6:50pm – 7:30pm: Interview a new designer
8pm – 10pm: Opening night at festival

Rule #2: Accept your lot in life. Most situations I find myself in are ones of my own construct. I never “have” to do anything; I choose to do things. Maybe I feel obligated or I know they will “pay off” or it’s fun. Wallowing in the misery of agreeing to do too much isn’t going to get any of it done faster and I said, “yes” so I better get going.

Inside the cab I lean back and rest.  “It’s half over,” I think, “and working at opening night will be more fun than work, so this is the last tough thing.”

Rule # 3: Know the arc of your day. Each task within a day makes up a complete arc – moving from the moment I wake up to the moment I fall asleep. Even though working 9 hours at the café has its own beginning, middle and end—it’s not my entire day.  If I thought of 4pm as my day’s “end” the rest of the day I would be tired, unproductive and worst of all, skipping steps toward the next task.

Rule #4: Never skip steps. Growing up my dad always said, “Any job worth doing is a job worth doing right.” It’s easy to skip over the details and it may feel like I am getting the same results with or without them but, if we are talking about something I truly value, then there’s no cutting corners. All that does is cut myself short.

I arrive at the theatre on time. Brian is already here.  A fellow superhero of the overly committed, we chat and wait for the designer. By the end of the meeting, she is excited about the project.  Brian and I walk away 98% sure she is going to say yes. Rock on!

I hop in a cab, feeling pumped and ready to have fun at the festival.  Earlier I received an email about an opportunity to do research for a project. I am co-directing a show at the same time it is scheduled. Rule #5: Know when to say “No.” On paper I could do both projects. Agreeing to do something down the road that might conflict, will make my life difficult and throw the hard work I’m doing right now out the window.  It’s difficult to pass up opportunities, but I have to keep moving forward and know that if I stick to the rules, more good jobs will come.  I mean why wouldn’t they? I’m a superhero.

photo by eneas de troya

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I had my first official “quarterlife crisis” last week. In the middle Board meeting, I excused myself, stepped outside, and booked a ticket home to Austin. I flew home approximately 12 hours later and just fell into my mom and dad’s arms as they anxiously awaited my arrival. I could tell they were nervous when I called them in tears and simply said, “I booked a ticket and I’ll be home tomorrow night. Can y’all pick me up from the airport?” You know you have good parents when they hear the distress in your voice and, rather than ask a million questions, they simply replay, “Of course. So happy you’re coming home.”

Now I don’t know what it is for you, your friends, a vacant shack in the middle of nowhere, or the privacy of your bedroom you run to but, for me, it’s the welcoming arms of a huge Texas family and home cooking. Maybe it’s just that I’m exhausted, maybe it’s because I’m just homesick or questioning my priorities, my passion and my purpose. But all I know is, like a little kid, I went running home because whatever it was, I felt like I was buckling under the pressure of adulthood’s responsibilities and expectations.

However, despite my much needed R&R, I came home to the most chaotic, depressing, unexpected  storm possible. It’s like I was trying to avoid a hurricane and fled to an island halfway across the world, only to get hit by a tsunami. The morning I arrived, I found out a dear friend had just passed away. Two hours later I was updated that one of our closest family friends was literally “missing” and that my ex-boyfriend had officially moved on (and in) with his girlfriend. Regardless, the ol’ saying, “When it rains it pours” could not be more appropriate for the past week of my life.

That’s when it occurred to me, in my pity party of one, that while we can plan and perfectly orchestrate our lives, at the end of the day, there are times when we simply have to grab out floaties and hold on for dear life. Since I pride myself on “being the author of my own life” and “dictating life on my terms,” it’s always humbling to find yourself up *%$# creek without a paddle.

For the first time in my life, I had nothing: no answers, no brilliant responses or eloquent explanations. I didn’t know up from down, left from right, nor here nor there. I sat on my couch and cried. I cried for a friend I’ll never see again; I cried for fear of my life’s ambiguity; I cried for finally closing a chapter in my life’s longest love affair; I cried for realizing I can’t control every aspect of my life nor have everything figured our by 26 and then bawled even harder at the thought of just how much I was loved by the Looney Toons I call family.

Then, as soon as it came, it was gone. I sat in silence on my couch and, when the last tear drop had rolled down my face, I realized I had just weathered a huge life storm and I was going to live. That doesn’t mean things were fixed, hearts weren’t still bruised and my problems had miraculously evaporated; it meant, in spite of them, I knew I would be okay.

And sometimes being okay is just enough to keep you going. I was once told, “Don’t waste a good crisis.” It sounded ridiculous at the time but it occurred to me that it’s in the thick of life’s greatest storms that we really learn how to sail our ships and sometimes we have to be fully broken in order to rebuild even stronger. So if you’re headed for one, in the midst of one, or have just survived a good life crisis, welcome to the gang.

My advice for the future: do what you have to do. Run home, hide under the covers, crawl in a hole when the world seems too big and too scary. But after you cry, scream, throw a fit and get everything out, you better get back out there. As I’ve said before, this life is not about avoiding obstacles, heartaches or unpleasant circumstances; it’s about facing them head on, getting beat up and knocked down but always, no matter what, getting back up.

I fly back to LA tomorrow and while my storm has subsided for now, I gladly welcome the next one that tries to throw me off my course because this girl is ten times stronger than the chick she was a week ago and it’s going to take one hell of a storm to slow me down this time.

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Living in a refugee camp in Ghana, Lovetta Conto struggled to get food, water and an education. She still believed, however, beauty could grow even in the darkest surroundings.

She may be a bit younger than our typical That Girl (at sixteen) but she is no less inspirational. Lovetta has her own line of jewelry, called Akawelle (“also known as love”), where pieces are fashioned from discarded bullets from the Liberian Civil War. “Life” is inscribed into the leaf pendant made from melting and molding the top part of the bullet. The bottom is wrapped with gold-filled wire to hang alongside the leaf. Constructed of copper and zinc, the bullets will tarnish but Lovetta feels this only enhances the splendor.

“Even something as ugly as a bullet that was fired in a war can be made beautiful if you are willing to work to change it into something else,” Lovetta explains.

Lovetta’s dedication was recognized by Cori Stern, founder of the Strongheart Fellowship. The fellowship stresses development through enterprise, encouraging participants to create projects that “combine commerce and compassion” by benefiting peers, the community and the Fellow. The proceeds from Conto’s jewelry line are going to help construct the Strongheart House in the now peaceful Liberia.

Like her jewelry, Lovetta also has managed to take her situation and turn it into a stunning reminder of the power of hope. She struggled to build a future for herself in the refugee camp. Education is not free in most of Africa, so Lovetta’s father worked very hard to pay for her education.

“I am finally getting the education my father dreamed of for me,” she writes. “That is why I say I am not ashamed of my past. It has made me who I am.”

photos courtesy of strongheart fellowship

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