That Ill-fated, Yet Redemptive, Day

Another one bites the dust, as the lyrics go. 

What was supposed to be a 3 month tour for me ended in just two and a half weeks. Before I left for it, I think I knew it was going to be a rough ride. I was unnecessarily nervous about driving with the new trailer/RV, and couldn't shake a sense of not actually wanting to go. Which was such a weird feeling, because I always want to "go"! ​

Fantastic gas station across the street from the last venue I played with the show. We had the BEST authentic Mexican burritos!

But I knew I was about to step into a training season. I wasn't performing, I was managing. And I wasn't even managing the fun part (the show itself), I was managing the boring and stressful part... the box office and all the finances of the show. It was a huge responsibility, and I was not excited about the mundane nature of the job. As a performer, I was very torn. But I went anyway, telling myself it was only three months and it was a fantastic opportunity to learn something new. I wanted this knowledge for future endeavors. 

The day I was set to leave, I was so nervous I vomited in a public restroom. (I won't tell you which one! ha!) But the day I decided to go home... was not nearly as difficult. 

Fancy soap in the gas station restroom. I was loving this pit stop!

We were had just played Corsicana, Texas the day before. We had all spent the night on the lot because the next day was a travel day and we all so desperately needed sleep. There was a lot of questions about the show within the staff and performers, and we were all waiting for answers before we moved on to the next town. 
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I had been over the job for the better part of the last week. I wasn't sleeping because the jumps were so long and we traveled every night. I would get to bed between 2 and 3 every morning and have to wake up by 7 to be at work by 8. I was barely eating, because we were only given two small (though delicious) meals a day, and I didn't have time to cook for myself in between. I was alone at the box office. I was never given a staff, and I had to sit/stand there from an hour and a half before the first show through til about an hour after the last show. I would have to ask permission to use the restroom because I couldn't just leave the office unattended. I lost weight from all this, plus the strain of working under a stressful show owner and all his demands. 

I was very unhappy. 

My mother felt I was being abused, in a sense. I wasn't making enough money for all the stress. I wasn't training my own skills and I had no free time at all. There was also the constant question if I even WAS going to get paid, due to an issue with the marketing company and low ticket sales. (I did, in the end, take home about 95% of what I had earned. I'm not going to stress over the two days and small percentage I'll never get paid for.)

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Yeah, we were all friends. Ha! ;)

​And though on paper, it seemed like such a no-brainer to leave, I still struggled with it. I am no quitter, and didn't want to leave just because it was "hard." Plus, other than the show owner, I loved everyone else on the show. The performers were all lovely people and I was getting on well with them and all the crew. I didn't want to let anyone down. There was no one else to run the box office. 

But at the end of the day, mental health won out and, after a tearful 2-hour chat with the show manager (also a good friend of mine), I left the show. That night, I drove about 3 hours back towards home and stayed in a truck stop to sleep in the trailer, free and clear. 

And in the end, it was the best decision I could have made. I immediately felt like myself again, no longer under the oppressive weight of the show or all I carried there. I felt free. Sometimes, you really do have to take care of yourself first, because if you can't take care of yourself, how can you expect to take care of others? 

​And I regret nothing. :) 

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Bathroom selfie for the road!