“I like that girl. She was a badass.”
Those words came out of my mouth last night. I was referring to the photo of me in my Rescue Swimmer School class photo. I’m standing with five other big dudes and one other badass female. We were the seven who made it through that crazy course in 2012. It’s where I got my “Malibu” nickname and where I proved to myself that I could do some really tough things in the water (like jump out of a perfectly good helicopter into it).
In the next breath I thought, “But I wish that girl knew there was more to life than that job.”
I miss the Secret Service. It’s been almost four years since I left. I miss my friends. I miss doing protection advance work. I miss driving in motorcades. I miss traveling. I miss the financial stability. I miss being a badass.
I’ve changed, and I don’t always appreciate the changes. I looked at a picture of myself smiling wildly because I was so “happy” to finally get a shot at becoming a rescue swimmer. For a moment, all I saw was the outside like everyone else around me, and I was envious of my former self. Behind that smile, though, was a woman who was hurting and hiding behind her job and the big city of Los Angeles that made it easy to be invisible. There were a lot of things that person should and could have done to check herself before she, ahem, wrecked herself.
Perhaps it’s time I realize the changes in me have made me stronger than that girl who could hold her breath for a long time and swim harder than most people and crank out pull-ups like a boss.
I have been binge-watching the show Schitt’s Creek the past couple weeks. Usually binge-watching shows by myself is a bad sign. It usually means I’m isolating myself or that I’m lonely and sad. But I’m not lonely or sad. I’m feeling a little drained because I’ve had to do a lot of “people-ing” lately (my fellow introverts will understand this), and Schitt’s Creek has been the brainless entertainment I’ve been recharging to.
I appreciate the show, not just for the laughs, but for the transformations of the characters throughout the seasons. I’m not “caught” up to the current episodes by any means, but I see how the characters have grown and transformed despite their circumstances. I especially like the father’s character played by Eugene Levy (aka “Johnny Rose”). In the show, his family goes from wealthy New York socialite to penniless and living in a motel in the town of Schitt’s Creek, a town he bought as a joke for his son on his birthday years prior. The first season hilariously portrays this crazy family’s out-of-touch and entitled transition into a much simpler life.
I was most struck by an episode where the show’s parents, Johnny and Moira Rose, go out to dinner for their anniversary and accidentally run into some old snooty socialite “friends” passing through town. Schitt’s Creek’s quirky mayor (complete with mullet hairdo) and his wife also show up at the restaurant. All three couples wind up at the same table. The rich friends passing through town complain about everything from the food to the wine throughout dinner and even make fun of Schitt’s Creek not realizing it’s where the Rose’s now live and that the mayor is sitting at their table.
There’s a big shift in this episode, that “aha” moment, when Johnny Rose speaks up and essentially tells the snooty friends how awful they’re being. Johnny realizes that as different as the mayor and his wife are from he and Moira, they’d been true friends to them while their old friends had completely cut them off. It’s one of my favorite episodes so far.
Johnny Rose was changing.
I am changing too.
Last weekend, I was told I spoke “confidently” in front of a couple thousand people while telling my story. I didn’t feel confident, but I told my story and didn’t hide behind a smile or a job. I was vulnerable about my past and okay with it. I even cried and didn’t feel shame at breaking down. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would be able to stand up on a stage and speak without fainting or puking. Even as an agent, I got nervous speaking at routine briefings.
I spoke up when I needed to be by myself after the event. I realized telling my story makes me remember and think about the past. Sometime I need to be alone after because it drains me.
I wore shorts in 57 degrees this weekend. That would have been unheard of in California. Apparently, I’m adapting to living in a colder climate. I even bought a snow blower this winter. I never wanted to live somewhere that required one.
Also, more shockingly, I called Iowa “home” for the first time not too long ago. It was my “Schitt’s Creek” moment, that moment when I realized I’m where I’m supposed to be right now and am okay with it. Iowa not only brought me closer to my family and gave me the opportunity to rebuild relationships that had been neglected for a long time, but it brought out the traits in me that have helped me move forward.
The Secret Service showed me how strong I was. That girl smiling in the Rescue Swimmer photo on my wall was proud to be strong and happy to prove people wrong. Iowa showed me that the broken woman who arrived in a rental car almost three years ago was still strong and not broken.
The small-town Midwest vibe was annoying at first. The neighbors waved and asked “nosy” questions like “What do you do for a living?” (a question I had no answer for at the time). My LA style didn’t fit in with the corn fields, flannel, and politness. I couldn’t walk everywhere like I could when I lived in my LA apartment. New friends were always willing to drop everything to help out.
I cringe now to admit the “Midwest niceness” annoyed me. I just wanted to be left alone. Don’t ask me questions. Don’t get to know me. Don’t care about me. Just let me be.
Many go to Los Angeles for opportunities. It’s a risk many take to make it in acting, modeling, or other parts of the entertainment industry. LA is the place where “most dreams go to die,” according to an old friend. But at least they tried, right?
I came to Iowa out of desperation and thought it was a temporary place for me to get back on my feet before I found a real opportunity elsewhere. The Rose family in Schitt’s Creek couldn’t stop talking about leaving that town when they arrived, but slowly but surely they allowed themselves to grow and try new things and become better people because of it.
I feel that way about Iowa. I’ve always been the person who liked the big cities. I loved visiting New York for work. I loved Los Angeles. I still do. Don’t get me wrong. But if I hadn’t moved to Iowa, I might not have known or had the opportunity to mow my own law, snow blow my own driveway, speak in front of people vulnerably, write a book, or become who I am today.
I’m proud to say I’m the same strong woman in that Rescue Swimmer photo, but just in different ways. Being divorced, depressed, and unemployed in Los Angeles made me feel like I was up shit’s creek without a paddle (or a helicopter to hoist me out). An impulsive, desperate, and drastic change called Iowa was the best “Schitt’s Creek-style” change in me that brought out the real woman I could be no matter where life takes me geographically from here.
Today I’m thankful for Iowa… and Schitt’s Creek.
Embracing the typos till next Monday… or Tuesday.