Is It Ever Too Late To Start Again?

I wonder if it is too late for me, sitting propped up in my bed with a warm computer on my lap, saving newly retouched headshots to my hard drive and writing a blog that I hope more than 50 people read. It is a serious question I’ve been asking myself for the past several years and that has amplified in the last four months. As a writer, the thought embeds itself into my brain as I submit to countless publications hoping one will take a chance on an unpublished writer. As an actor, the idea that it is too late is a much more real one, highlighted by the lack of complex, older female characters and the dust encrusted monologues that lie frozen in my memory instead of in an audition room. And the fact the entire industry is at a standstill…

On March 10th, I took a leap and invested in acting once again. It had been years since I had spent any money towards my acting career goals. I had not given up nor had I burned out. I merely stepped away and stop giving it attention. A few days after I had a stellar day of a shoot, a rehearsal, and a wonderful chat with a dear friend, all of acting shut down. Quite literally. All the paths disappeared from view and I am stuck standing at the edge of the forest with no where to turn but back the way I came.

I speak of this day often in my blogs. Sometimes I laugh when I think about it. This great, stellar day when the virus was a minimal threat and I took the subway into Brooklyn, my hands covered with my coat, not touching the poles and keeping as best a distance as I could from others. Things were moving forward. I then usually cry for a moment in mourning for that ideal, shining, wonderful day. It feels like I dreamed it up lately. That it was all imaginary and never existed. This day where I felt powerful, ready, prepared, excited. The last of its kind for a long time.

That day, I didn’t feel it was too late for me.

Now, with all the time to think, I wonder more and more: Is it ever too late to start again?

I never intended to step away from performing for so long. I haven’t done a play in years which makes my stomach turn when I say it out loud. I haven’t stepped foot on a set in many, many months. I’ve watched as my friends continued to climb the ladder of success and I stood back, admiring them and tending to my jealousy to keep it from raging. I knew my choice was right for me at the time. I had other interests I wanted to pursue and the acting business was leaving a bad taste in my mouth. I didn’t want that for the thing I loved the most. I needed to step away to remind myself why I loved it.

Watching my peers succeed made me fearful. I know how hard the work is to get where many of them are. That is not what scares me. What scares me is the work I haven’t done. The years I did not pursue acting and lost powerful knowledge and experience. I am in two unions and I have yet to benefit from their provided insurance because I haven’t worked in either of them enough to do so. I worry I’ll never catch up to be the union actor I tell myself I am yet I have no proof to show for it aside from two little plastic cards that show up in my mailbox and hang in my wallet after I pay my dues.

I am so behind and I am not sure how to ever catch up. Being an actor still feels like a race against age, especially for a woman. I try not to tell myself the fantastical narrative of all it takes is one job and I’m golden. While those stories do exist, they are not reality. Reality is hard work, experience, and the hustle. I haven’t hustled in a long time. Am I too tired, too old, too spent for the hustle?

When one thinks of starting over, one has to assess the tools in the toolbox. Some of the tools are rusted, worn, need some parts replaced. They all still work, of course. Most good tools do. I’ve invested in them and I know I can rely on them when need be. I tell myself with the right tools, anyone can start over. A birdhouse can be built from a block of wood using the right tools. But what if the wood is old? What if the wood is tainted or damaged in a way that wouldn’t make a good birdhouse? Is there a way to still craft a solid thing out of something that is broken and bruised?

I try to trust in the universe and the signs it gives me. I moved back to the city and was laid off from two jobs in two years. Neither job was in performing. The first layoff, I worked on my novel for a full month. The second layoff, I updated all my acting tools (website, headshots, casting sites) and submitted and signed up for auditions that inevitably would never come to be. Is this the universe showing me that the jobs I’ve been working come and go and what do I turn to when they go? I turn to performing and writing. I turn to my passion. Is it too late to trust in that and go back to pursuing it full time?

I wonder what other people think about me. Does anyone even think of me? Probably not. We’ve all got our own shit to worry about. But my anxiety whispers to me that everyone thinks I am a fraud. They think I haven’t acted in years professionally, why am I saying I am an actor? If they are actually doing this (they aren’t), they are right. It is strange to call myself an actor at times. It feels like a lie though it isn’t. I wonder if I’ll mess up that first day on set, forgetting some elementary skill that has laid dormant for too long and they’ll think “She’s a thirtysomething actress who doesn’t know shit” (they won’t) and I’ll feel out of place, old and foolish to think I could step back into this so easily.

When I imagined my future success, I think of it as a story of a woman who walked away. Big dramatic music swells and I tell my tale of how I had to come back because I missed it and it is a part of me. I stepped away but LOOK AT ME NOW! It’s a story everyone loves. The actor or musician or artist who disappeared and then came back to give their best work yet. I imagine myself to be that person in that story. She walked away but when she came back, she stunned us all!

Is it ever too late, I ask you again. I have friends who haven’t acted for longer than I haven’t and they say they miss acting when we talk about it. I always tell them “It is always there! You can always go back.” But can they? Am I preaching to the choir here? When I say it, I believe it. I do think you can always return to acting. Do I think you’ll find immediate success? No, of course not. The work is necessary. I fear the work I haven’t done yet I know I am able to do the work ahead. But can I really go back with my limp resume and (more experienced) competition at an all time high?

It would be easy to just stop dreaming. Especially now with the industry shut down, it would be easy to forget it and find another job that will sustain the essentials. I can still have a happy life. But it will be a half life, a cursed life like I drank unicorn blood and know my doomed fate. I know every time I see a beautiful piece of theater or an incredible film, I will ache. I will ache so deeply it feels muscular and my stomach twists and turns and my heart pounds. I will ache because I want it, I miss it, and I’ve discovered I need it.

In this time, all I’ve thought about is how I can’t wait to perform again. I think about it every morning and every night. I had it right in front of me for so long and I took my time and now it is very far out of reach. I know that part makes it even worse: the wanting what you can’t have. I can’t say I don’t regret not getting going sooner. Would it have made any difference? Probably not. We’d still be here now, artists seeking work in every corner they can. Only I would be among them and feel I belonged there more than I do now.

I don’t know if it is too late. For this or for anything. What I do know is that it is worth the fight and the work to find out. I will eventually have the opportunity again to try. It will be even later than it is now. Will it be too late then? Is it ever?