TLDR: Moved From NC To LA Slept In A Car
I'm here to be honest and bring myself some closure and solace. When I first moved to Los Angeles in 2018, things were not great. I was living in my car.
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I started with a 3 year plan: move in with my parents for a year to save money, move to Raleigh to gain some sea legs, and finally move to LA to attack the dream.
Living with my parents didn't work out. I took a hit mentally and had to move early. Luckily, my best friend needed a roommate at the time. I lost money, but it was worth it. 2017 was looking GOOD. Jessie and I really cared for one another. When one of us got short on rent, we would cover for each other, and that support gave me my first adult feeling of home. I had started voice-over classes and they were going well; I was able to save money. Things felt within my control.
At the beginning of 2018, the hotel I was working for fucked me out of a promotion and a mountain of overtime wages, and I was jobless.
Within a week of me losing my job, Jessie got recruited to work in Florida. Incredible news for her, but it left me out of work and looking for a place to live. It looked dark, but within a month I had landed my favorite job yet at the Flying Biscuit, and Rachel & Julianna needed a roommate in Raleigh- saved.
At that point, I was rethinking my original 3-year plan. Everything I had saved was gone, it seemed like I would be delayed a year at least.
In the middle of picking myself up, one of my best friends from college stopped by with her girlfriend. Lindsey and Ellen were moving to LA and asked if I wanted to come with. I asked when - they said they were packing everything in the car and moving in 3 weeks!
To this, of course, I said no. I had a three-year plan and was already halfway in. We settled on a schedule of 3 months. This sounds crazy, but at the time they were offering a way to do this as a team instead of having to do it by myself. Ellen's grandmother had left her some money, they were very supportive, and Lindsey and I had the kind of friendship that never felt like it stopped- every time we hung out again it was like we never missed a beat.
A week before I was supposed to leave for LA, Lindsey called and asked if I was still coming. I should have seen how red that flag was. She told me they hadn't found an apartment and were living in a pod share- there was no place for me.
I was shook. I had just closed every door I had. I’d said goodbye to my voice coach, quit both of the jobs I was working, I had a goodbye party with my friends and family. The beautiful sunset on the ocean I had painted was nothing but blank canvas now. I said no. With things not going as planned again, I felt vulnerable and desperate to feel in control, but Lindsey insisted we could make it work and everything would be alright.
A week later I moved to Los Angeles.
Living in your car in the middle of summer is fucking hard. Most nights were too hot to sleep with anything more than a sheet and I'd still wake up throughout the night in a pool of sweat and frustration. Come winter, I was layered and bundled up with the chills and insomnia. When I first arrived, I was in the library for the greater part of the day to escape the heat and apply for jobs. I started background acting with Central Casting, and delivering food to solve the income issue. All the money I had saved up (and what little I was earning) was spent rescuing my car, which was failing me left and right. Because it was one of my main sources of income and my home, I had no choice but to take care of it. I was frantic to keep my head above the water, afraid of hitting the bottom. There was no footing. There were a few weeks where all I had was $20 and had to make do. The 99cent store was an oasis.
I was still trying to live a normal life. I was going on dates, meeting up with friends. I was lining up every morning I could at Central Casting and delivering food in Burbank so I could just see the inside of studios. I was desperate to feel normal. But it's hard to make friends when you feel like you're basically lying to them all the time, omitting this huge part of your life. I felt fake and because of it I never really committed to people like I normally would. I was scared to open up for fear of being judged on my decisions. I scared myself into a corner that ultimately blocked out everyone else.
Things started looking up. Money was super steady and I was looking at a potential roommate. Eva, a friend/crush I had met and hung out with for a short period had moved back to the city from NC a year or so earlier, was in search of an apartment and a roommate. She had just started living with one of her friends in Pasadena, but the commute to and from LA was ridiculous. I'd stay with them in Pasadena on nights before we had apartments to look at the next day. We looked at over 200 apartments between North Hollywood and DTLA and applied to at least half of them. Finding an apartment took months. SO MUCH money and time spent on this, both of us were feeling hopeless.
At the end of May, we finally got approved. It was basically a studio, but it didn't matter anymore. Once I moved everything out of my car, it was noticeably lighter, and I could relate to it. I don't feel like I'm being pulled into too many directions and it feels good to talk to my mom and mean it when I say I'm doing okay. I've been living with my now partner, Eva, and her daughter for the past year and a half. Since then, I’ve been able to take some voice-over classes with some of my idols, and before COVID hit I was starting to come out of my shell and socialize/network. I realize I wasn't thinking much once I got here- I was only reacting to dreadful situations I had put myself in and doing it poorly.
With the exception of 5 people, I lied. I made it seem like I was out here having this grand adventure, and really nailing it in pursuing my dreams, showing only the good and fun stuff when it happened and rarely the bad. I wanted the praise and admiration of someone who had it all figured out. I didn't want to be embarrassed. No one wants to be fooled and no one wants to feel like they were manipulated. I had people lie for me; people I asked to keep a secret that if it wasn't kept, honestly, would've been stressful at first, but ultimately better in the end. To those who I told in confidence: I'm sorry I selfishly had you lie on my behalf when in fact, if I had just reached out for help, I more than likely would've got it. I'm lucky to have people that genuinely care about me.
I kept this lie up with my parents. They saw through it and confronted me A BUNCH, but I continued to lie to them and tried to talk to them as little as possible. It was selfish to think that making them proud of me meant my false sense of resolve and independence was enough to calm their anxieties. I'm really sorry for making you guys worry.
Thank you all for sticking by me and loving me with all these flaws. Everythings looking up now.
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