Is it weird to want to move to a place solely because I feel like I’d have great friends while living there?

Case in point, I’m currently watching Netflix’s Russian Doll. Very cool series but this post isn’t about that lol.

Every show I’ve ever seen that takes place in NY is often centered around someone who has cool enough friends to throw them house parties. I don’t know about you but I haven’t been to a decent house party since the early 2010’s. Maybe I just don’t know the right people here in Atlanta. In fact, I’m sure I don’t because I’ve basically moved here and turned into a mild recluse. I digress.

So, yea, my only motivation for moving to NY is to make a bunch of new friends who wisecrack like me, will always have my back, and of course go to random parties where we all laugh the next morning.

Thanks, television.

In my younger days, I was most certainly ran by ego. My every decision was based on it. All of my moves were calculated by it. Eventually, I began to see it as a source of many troubles. Interestingly, this came about around the time that I began acting.

Before I was an actor, I rarely cried or showed vulnerability. I wouldn’t say that I saw it as weakness but I saw how much approaching situations from an emotional rather than a logical standpoint was a handicap. Avoidable mistakes were made.

And so I started on the journey that led me to where I am today. I focused completely on self instead of ego. But this also led to problems. I became more of a doormat to the world. I cared more of what others thought of me. I even let influences dictate what I considered to be important in my world. I don’t regret it all but I do wish I’d approached things differently.

Now we live in a world where social media controls more than we might even imagine. It has the ability to control our minds as well as our next steps. Along with that, and pursuing acting full time, I see why the ego is actually needed. With ego comes confidence. Sure confidence can come with self as well. But the fact of the matter is we are all in a world that is run mostly by ego. It’s the main reason humans are not courteous to each other. Since we who favor self over ego must battle with ego influenced people, our own egos are still a vital part of our psyches.

For the past year or so, after spending three-quarters of my life living by ego and one-quarter of it living by self, I’m actively working on finding that perfect balance.

I’m sure we’ve all heard the phrase about when creativity “strikes.” I’d like to think mine is the same as everyone else’s. But I’ve discovered that my creativity ignites.

Case in point, it is almost 2am as I’m writing this post. This is the hour of the creative and at times I’m no exception. But once my brain goes, it literally doesn’t stop. Oh sure I’ll get tired eventually but I’m talking about at all times. When I allow myself to be creative, the ideas won’t stop. I have notes and notes full of material for just about every medium known to mankind. And it is exhausting.

Don’t get me wrong. To have a flow of ideas that I can act on or pass to someone else is divine. But I value sleep. I value not being in my head all of the time. It’s a vacation spot not a permanent residence I must constantly remind myself.

So how does one cope with a faucet either set to deluge or a leaky trickle simply for keeping the pipes from freezing?

I am 32 years old right now. I can vividly remember being in my 20’s longing for my 30’s when I’d have it all figured out. I know that no one REALLY does but I was assured that in my 30’s at least some of my insecurities would die (and with each passing decade, the list would grow.) And I can say that as soon as I hit 30, it was like something washed over me and I no longer cared what most thought of me.

That lasted for about a year.

By 31, I was back to second guessing and doubting myself. I don’t know if it was because of the friendships I rekindled in that moment in time. I’m not sure if it was because I began to focus more on the reason for my move from my childhood home to 500 miles north of it. But sitting here thinking of my 31st year of my life, I realize that it was only comparable to my 7th year of formal education: the dreaded and awkward middle of middle school.

At 32 years, 5 months, 2 weeks, and 5 days old, I still have not fully recovered. But I’m trying.

My mother has always called me Breezy, her little free spirit. So unlike others who tend to adopt ideas of (and nicknames for) themselves based on their inner feelings, I’ve always been the way that I am even when I fight it. But only this year have I decided to dedicate my year to working on my own authenticity. It seems silly to have to “work” at it but I’ve lost a good amount of it along my journey. If I haven’t lost it, it’s tucked away in the recesses of my psyche or hiding in plain sight because I’ve conditioned myself to mostly pay attention to my faults over the years. Either way, it’s something that must be brought back to light but only for myself and not for others.

So what is a free spirit based on my own way of living?

To me a FS is someone who genuinely enjoys just living. Free spirit is synonymous with life enthusiast. I could enjoy spending a Saturday afternoon bathing in sunlight in my living room while reading a book just as much as I could enjoy going to watch a Sunday football game in a heavily crowded bar.

I’ve always been just like my namesake Breezy Sharp. For like the breeze, I enjoy going where the wind takes me. This has led to many varied hobbies and side occupations over the years. I’ve written poetry and short stories. I’ve painted in a class and by number. I’ve collected seashells and foreign currency. I’ve trained myself for a national bodybuilding competition. I’ve dabbled in the world of camgirls and sugar babies. I’ve joined the cast of a last minute play for a theatre festival. I’ve picked up some belongings and moved with just my dog to a new city to start over after deciding to move only 3 months prior. And you don’t even want to see my extensive Google search history for the many things I’ve wondered about over the years. If something flies across my radar, I’m pretty much going to explore it.

It’s hard to tell people what interests me. I’ve often loathed the “tell me about yourself” questioning that comes with first dates. The best way to get to know me has always been to just hang out with me. I don’t have a predetermined list of things. And when I’ve had to narrow it down, I feel like I’m not doing myself justice because I just know I’ve missed some things.

I’m a firm believer in letting people live the lives that they want to live as long as they aren’t hurting anyone. This doesn’t mean that I approve of stagnation or those who don’t believe in self-improvement. I just feel like I can’t judge anyone for doing what they want with their gift of free will. I didn’t give it to them so I’m certainly not going to try and take it away.

Lately I’ve had a bit of trouble reminding myself of who I really am. Maybe this year, maybe this time, it’ll stick just a bit longer.