Could it be that there is power in voicing your dreams?
At the start of the year, I had a goal – Do. More. Acting. Have I turned my career ablaze with Hollywood roles aplenty? Well, no. Have I furthered my career as an actor at all? Still, probably not. But have I done some acting? Yes. Yes I have.
I started my year as an extra on a Bollywood movie with Jerome Flynn in it, after all.
And given what kind of year it has been… that’s an accomplishment in itself.
This whole year has been a scene change.
There is a Madness to the Method
Early on in the year I was approached to play a role as a transgender woman at a Chelmsford-based am-dram theatre company that I frequented in my youth. They were keen to cast someone within the LGBT community owing to the nature of the role, but approached me for my acting chops. Interestingly, the role crossed over the character’s transformation from male to female – so it could be tricky or harrowing for an actual trans person to play the role. I am not trans. However, I’ve never been shy in talking about how I wished to be a girl in my childhood. And how that feeling still sometimes surfaces. I might not be trans – but I could certainly empathise and relate to the character. To be honest, the transformation – the acceptance of femininity, the role itself felt so very right for me at this time, and a fitting swan song for my time in Chelmsford.
On the Thursday night performance, my mum and nan were meant to visit. But when I looked out ino the audience, they were nowhere to be seen.
I initially thought that they had forgotten. But it later turned out that my nan had fallen on the way to see the show. That, in coming to see me perform (in a role she would likely not have been impressed by), she had fallen and broken a rib.
From here it was a downward spiral for nan.
The next month was a barrage of hospital visits, intense family time, and a brutal rollercoaster of life and death dolled out by doctors and nurses who seemed to have no idea if they were coming or going.
Death happens. I get that. I accept that. I know that people die, and that we lose a part of ourselves when they do. But after it happens a few times, the pain is less like a hammer and more like a shard of glass. The blow is lessened, but the pain is far deeper, quieter, and murky. The grief seems harder to fathom.
A Change of Scene
What came over the next half a year was a barrage of a different kind.
Mum kindly took my family and I to Disneyland Paris in June, Mum and I went on a whirlwind trip around five countries in seven days in August, and finally a trip to Greece in September with my best friend and our respective families.
The day we got home from Greece, I managed to sneak a Linkin Park gig in, which was silly because it was the day before I moved house.
A quick moment to talk about Linkin Park – although that might have seemed like something of a throwaway comment.
Back in 2017, one of my idols, Chester Bennington, singer of Linkin Park, tragically died by suicide. Given he was there for me in numerous ways through my formative years, I took it pretty hard. Perhaps harder than I first realised. So the return of Linkin Park without him, and with a new singer is a big deal to me. A new singer. A new tour. A new album. Big news. All on top of the house move and my nan’s death. Spiralling a little!
To make matters worse – Becky, my wife, was sick. Real sick. In ways that I don’t feel comfortable talking about because it would be a betrayal of her privacy. But needless to say, September was incredibly stressful, and perhaps a stupid time to go on holiday or go to a gig. But maybe that’s exactly why we needed it.
New Beginnings
Once we were into the new house… we weren’t really into the new house. It needed a lot of work. And so October was filled with cleaning and decorating and DIY, all the time whilst Becky was sick. And I was starting to feel mysterious pains too. We eventually moved in the first week of November. Officially. Just one day before I headed off on tour to go do some of that acting I’d so craved.
So here we are.
I’m on tour, and it’s nearly Christmas. And, yes, I’m loving it. But I think my headspace is gone. I’m looking forward to the quiet after the storm. The second of half of January where I really get to enjoy the space we’ve made here in our new lives. Away from all the old memories in Chelmsford. And maybe away from the half-hearted dream that somewhat fuelled this year.
Maybe it is time to have a distinct goal going forward into next year.
Maybe I should think about that.
Maybe you should too?