Fourteen days. In two weeks, I’ll step onto a Fringe stage and tell a story I’ve been carrying for years.
A story about burnout.
About identity.
About loss.
About joy.
About finding my way back to myself.
If I’m being honest, there are moments when I wonder what I’ve gotten myself into. Writing a blog post is one thing. Having a conversation with a friend is one thing.
Standing alone on a stage and sharing your story with strangers is something else entirely.
It’s exciting.
It’s terrifying.
And somehow, it’s exactly where I need to be.
A few years ago, I never would have imagined this version of my life. Back then, I was exhausted. Burned out. Going through the motions. Trying to be the person I thought I was supposed to be.
Today, I’m rehearsing a show about giant bubbles and personal transformation.
Life is strange that way.
The path forward rarely looks like the path we imagined.
As the countdown gets shorter, I find myself thinking less about whether the show will be perfect and more about why I’m doing it.
I’m doing it because stories matter.
Because mental health matters.
Because there may be someone sitting in the audience who feels lost, exhausted, or disconnected from themselves.
And maybe they’ll see a little of their own story in mine. If that happens, then every rehearsal, every nervous moment, and every late-night rewrite will be worth it.
Fourteen days before curtain call, I’m feeling a little scared. A little excited. A little vulnerable. And surprisingly grateful.
Because not every dream arrives wrapped in confidence. Sometimes it arrives wrapped in uncertainty and asks you to trust it anyway.
So that’s what I’m doing. One rehearsal. One day. One bubble at a time.