Yesterday I had a heart-wrenching video shoot all about my divorce and what my life has been life the last three years…I wound up missing my flight to extend the gig by a few hours. Yep, I was on the way to the airport to fly home, and I was called and asked to turn around and come back to film a little more. While wandering town that evening with my client, looking for somewhere to have dinner, I ran into MY COUSIN, Alyssa! IN BOSTON. Of all places?!
Then I set my alarm for 3 PM instead of 3 AM, missed my 5:59 AM flight, and got on the 6:44 AM flight. THANK YOU, American Airlines for taking care of your loyal customers! I walked up to the check in desk and literally said, “Please help me, I just missed my flight!” The attendant just took my license and booked me standby onto the next flight and told me, “Hurry!”
Yesterday I heard that I was “a breakout.” “A natural.” I heard that I am “a storyteller.” People liked me. They liked what I had to say, especially when I pounded my fist into the air.
I didn’t cry, for the record. There were a few times when I teared up and the makeup artist had to retouch up my eyes, but not a single tear fell, and I was as strong as I could be, and I’m proud of myself. I did sweat profusely, but I’m gonna blame that on menopause-induced hot flashes. (I did cry hysterically in the Uber on the way to the airport before I got turned around for more filming though, but I don’t think that counts)
I came home from this trip feeling very vulnerable and raw, and while I have always been very up front and real about what life has been like since my divorce journey began three years ago, this video shoot was an entirely different story. This is REAL. It’s on camera. I am not behind social media or my blog, I am not just sitting with friends having a cocktail, I was L E G I T speaking openly about the rise and fall of my marriage, and while I thought that I was completely over it…I guess I really wasn’t, truth be told. Those conversations on screen broke something loose in me that I didn’t even realize was still there: a lot of pain and suffering.
I went home and had a bit of a breakdown that led to a panic attack so severe that I wound up in the emergency room, thinking that I was having a heart attack. There were a lot of memories and residual feelings leftover that I was unconsciously suppressing, and this shoot? It ripped off the bandage and allowed me to really HEAL, once and for all.
I’ve known for a while that the direction of my brand needs to change, but I just didn’t know how to go about it…I’ve lacked creative vision and the spark that once made me successful. For months, it’s been a struggle to even write.
But? I think The Rebel Chick is B A C K. 👊🏼