Over the past few years, I've watched many friends and acquaintances leave New York City for various locations. Some went to other cities. Some went back to their home states. I watched this happened and it planted the seed inside me that maybe I needed to leave. I was frustrated and stuck on a plateau and nothing I was trying was working. Getting out seemed to be working for everyone else, why not me?I had friends start new careers and fucking thrive. Some are nurses, writers, they work in regional theaters on the production side or became professors or directors at colleges. Some are actors still and are killing it locally; playing roles of their dreams to rave reviews. Many are yoga instructors, health coaches, personal trainers: also fucking thriving.I've watched many friends start to work for themselves and make a living. They control their own schedule and don't fear getting fired every day because they are their own bosses. They still go on vacations, own homes, and have children. Yes, this is all told through an Instagram filter but you know what, I AM HERE FOR IT and a sucker for a well positioned coffee cup next to a notebook and pen.So, when's it my turn? What the f is MY thing?I say this not having figured out what the hell I am doing or want to do. How could I be so naive in thinking I would move and suddenly the world would open up and red carpets laid out and I would have it all happen without any effort or trial and error. That's what a lot of people think New York is when they first step foot on the ground and I never thought that. I knew it would be hard work and hustle and yet, here I am in a small city thinking I can just walk in and have everyone thanking me for being here.I've always been a fairy tale dreamer and leaving the city to find my way was just another example of chasing dreams that I didn't actually have. I was chasing others peoples' dreams and successes, not my own. I was expecting to see my journey become theirs.I think Vermont is showing me what I knew all along: I don't fit in here. I never felt like I did growing up. I love Vermont terribly but I'm not what it wants in a resident. I'm not that outdoorsy; I don't ski or hike. I love the mountains and forest but I'd rather go and have a glass of wine and tapas in my free time. We don't have a dog yet or children and I like being in bed by 11pm. So many of the events here cater to the young or homeowners who procreated and own a canine. It is a weird place to live in your thirties without these assets and interests.I thought a light bulb would go off and I would know THIS IS IT! This is the thing I am supposed to be doing and I can still do acting but this, this is what I was meant for. That hasn't happened. I have had ideas but none have powered me enough to work towards them. I have had many doors shut in my face lately so I am not inspired to keep trying as I was in a bigger city with more doors and even windows. I just don't feel like I fit.I wanted to move out of the city and prove myself wrong. I feared I would move out and become exactly this: working a regular office job I don't like, not acting, sitting home at night, hating what I look like and living for the weekend when I have a few precious hours with my husband to go to Trader Joe's.I wanted to move here and find my niche. Maybe it was the princess party idea I still have but do not possess any cash money to get it going nor the time working a full time job that exhausts me. Part of me wants to take a photography class and work that angle but is that because I've seen friends become photographers or do I actually want that for myself? A bit of both, I think. I hoped our production company would get off the ground running but we haven't had much time together with opposite schedules to create and my husband has successes in other mediums that take up a lot of his time. I have been so stifled creatively that when we do have time, my brain feels heavy and tired with so many other stresses, I can't get it to the right place to be excited about any thing it comes up with.This is a lot of excuses. Whiny, pathetic excuses. But it is my truth right now. I sit, like a hopeful child, asking when is it my turn. What do I have to do to find what I am meant for? I have several friends that are kicking asses as witches; actual beautiful witches reading tarot cards and just being magical all the time and helping people. Like, how did that become an option? Is that not the coolest thing you've ever heard? How can I be a fairy princess that saves animals? Someone find me the classifieds advertising that.I just want to tell stories and I am struggling hard to find that outlet to do it. I don't know how other people have just clicked with their soul's destiny but my soul is over here chilling, eating blocks of cheese and waiting for a knock at the door.I know no one's life is perfect. With social media, it's so easy to fall into the trap like I have and wish for someone else's life. I mean, think about it: with a few of the right hashtags and carefully curated Instagram, you could literally be famous for nothing. I want to find my place in this world. Why I think I am right for someone else's journey, I don't know. Most likely because I am scared of finding my own and truly taking a risk. I took this risk and honestly, hasn't fulfilled any thing I hope for. Taking applications for new risky move and adventures starting today.I have learned a lot in the past two years. More than I thought I would about who I am and where I want to go. When I close my eyes and think of my perfect place, it is becoming clearer though I'm still staring through a fogged up window. Why I wasn't one of the chosen few to find that success when they leapt. I jumped and I am still falling down the rabbit hole.**This is just an honest blog post about where I am at right now. I am grateful for all opportunities I have had (y'all know who you are) in this state so far. This entry is more about the bigger picture I was hoping for and the feeling I am still very lost in the woods. But not really because as I mentioned, I'm not much of a hiker**