Friends, gather round. It’s storytime. Not the kind you read under a blanket with cocoa, no. This is more like the kind where your eye twitches and you start wondering if your WiFi is judging your life choices.
So here I am. Again. Leaving behind a stable job. A stable income. A stable routine. You know… stability — that mythical unicorn every parent with four kids worships like it’s oxygen. And I’ve just waved it goodbye. For the third time. Yes, third. Because apparently I don’t learn from the first two times I yeeted myself off the financial security cliff in the name of creativity.
Why, you ask?
Because nothing makes me feel more alive than directing, doing voice overs, translating Telenovelas into Afrikaans (don’t judge until you’ve tried lip-syncing the phrase “¡Dios mío!”), and teaching drama lessons to mini-humans who have no personal space filter and think fart jokes are Shakespearean gold.
But let’s not sugar-coat this: it’s terrifying. Like “wake up in the middle of the night and check if the fridge is still running because if that breaks too I might cry into a block of cheese” terrifying. Because one month without income could financially flatten us. Not like cute pancake-flat. More like “I forgot the flour in the cake recipe” flat. It’s scary because four little people rely on me to feed them, clothe them, and explain why you can’t microwave a boiled egg.
And yet… staying in a job that eats away at my soul faster than a toddler with a cupcake? That’s a slow, painful death too. Except there’s no funeral. Just burnout, anxiety, and a permanent craving for escape that no amount of spreadsheets can cure.
So, I’m doing it. AGAIN. I’m giving the entertainment industry another go — because I’d rather be scared and alive than safe and emotionally comatose. I’d rather risk everything (except my last stash of chocolate, let’s not go nuts) than show my kids that dreams are only for people with no bills and a backup trust fund.
Will we survive? Probably. Will I cry into my pillow some nights? Absolutely. But will I be doing what makes my soul come alive?
Heck. Yes.
Now, please excuse me while I go direct a dramatic monologue about a lost juice box and invoice someone for a voice over where I pretend to be a talking dog. Glamorous, I know.
#PrayForMyWiFi #CreativeMadness #KidsEatTooMuch #ThirdTimeLuckyOrThirdTimeBroke