I left Australia five years ago today
The “five year plan” was this:
Go to drama school
Graduate
Work in London
Meet an English-American
Move to New York
Re-assess where I want to be, and figure out next five years.
 
If I could talk to you/me/us
In that moment when you’re sitting on the plane
Full of excitement and expectation and hope
What would I say to you? What would you want to know?
 
I think of Abuelo
Standing on the deck of the P&O Iberia
Leaning against the railing as
Sydney Harbour comes into view
Imagining his life in Australia
Believing that this would be the final destination for his family
When he got sick
Did he think about that moment?
Had his life turned out the way he imagined?
I never thought to ask until now
 
When I left Australia
I didn’t expect to fall in love so quickly
At the end of the summer Aaron produced a small white box and (unbeknownst to him)
I completely freaked out
Convinced he was about to propose
I was not ready, not even remotely interested in marriage
I was moving to London and going to drama school and I wasn’t about to let a boy get in the way of that
The box contained a pair of earrings
Handmade by one of our friends, a pair of
Beautiful little wasps on nets of honeycomb
They’re still one of my favorite accessories
Aaron didn’t know about the momentary freak out
Until a week or so ago
 
But first there was London and drama school
Wearing black every day
Finding neutral, and finding center
Learning plosives and fricatives and voiced and unvoiced sounds  
Learning about resonance and keeping the larynx high and the importance of being warm
Learning resilience and defeat and gaining and losing my self esteem  
Learning to be an effective tree
Learning Sunday in the Park with George and falling in love with that gorgeous rich sumptuous and incredible music and figuring that there must be as many dots in the score as there were in the painting
 
Going to drama school in a recession was
The best of times and
The worst
Without a job to pay the bills  
I was ready to drop out
It was either school fees or rent
Then I was granted a scholarship
 
There was my aunt, who became my London Mum
L’Mum, as I now call her
And spending my twenty-seventh birthday walking around Highgate Cemetery and seeing a play about 9/11 and eating delicious pizza
Being treated to wonderful dinners and walks along the canals
 
There was flat-hunting as a foreigner in London
Visiting dingy flats with mouldy walls
And showers next to the bed
A shared toilet in the hallway
And being told I needed to give up half my life-savings for the privilege of living there 
 
There was my tiny room in Clandon Gardens
With its double glazed windows
Room for a bed, and a desk, and not much else
Where one night, delirious from hours of studying
I raced outside and danced in the snow instead of going to bed
 
It was where Aaron and I spent our first Christmas together
We made polvoron and had Christmas Eve dinner at a pub in Islington
And I learnt that Christmas didn’t have to be stressful
On Christmas Day we stayed home
And watched Firefly and ate Wensleydale cheese
 
A chance encounter on the tube
Led me to a kindred spirit
And living in a room of my own
In Willesden Green
I had a window seat, and room to twirl in, space to sing and flute
And a huge park just down the road for running in
 
Speaking of a room of one’s own
Walking the streets once paced by
Virginia Woolf and Mary Wollstonecraft
I immersed myself in feminism
And read my way through the feminist canon
 
I lived in a 400-year-old house in Ruislip
Ran to the Lido and borrowed books from the library in the converted barn
 
After a year of listening obsessively to MusicalTalk
I got to be a guest presenter
And became friends with the person who started it all
 
I saw Idina Menzel and Marvin Hamlisch in concert
And met Sir Tim Rice, who extended his hand and said
“I’m Tim”
I saw Liza Minelli
And Alanis Morrissette and
The Cat Empire and
A Chorus Line, A Doll’s House, Matilda, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, The Light Princess, and Shrek
Much Ado, Rock of Ages, War Horse, and Phantom
Top Hat, Legally Blonde, Betty Blue Eyes, and Loserville 
I saw tiny brand new musicals in black box theatres above pubs
And a wonderful re-telling of Arabian Nights
I saw Grounded at the Gate Theatre, and did a workshop with the actor
 
I wandered through Carnaby St and the twisting, winding alleyways that make up central London
I fell in love with Neal’s Yard and drank chocolate smoothies and bought hand-made soap
I ate haloumi burgers in Brick Lane
And salad from Food for Thought in Covent Garden
 
I visited the Globe
Stonehenge and St. Paul’s
Bath, Bristol, Brighton and Cardiff
In Oxford, I sat in the sun with Australian friends and watched the rowing
We went to the Shri Swaminarayan Mandir, one of the largest Hindu temples outside of India
 
Mum took me to Geneva
And flew me to Lanzarote for Vicky’s fortieth
 
I applied for a job at a supermarket
And was told that 30 hours a week now constituted “part-time”
I trialled at a café where I spent three hours serving customers and clearing tables to be told the manager had changed her mind about needing someone extra, and refused to pay me
I eventually got work at Winter Wonderland
£6 an hour to sit in the freezing cold selling tickets in £5 denominations
I ushered at Central and smiled sweetly for wealthy patrons
When drama school was over, I temped in offices across London
Answering phones for the giants in finance, publishing, and media
The best job was ushering at the Cambridge and getting paid
To watch Matilda eight times a week
 
I went back to camp
It felt like going home
I discovered the joy of teaching and
Saw Yo-Yo Ma performing at Tanglewood
I walked a labyrinth
Your boy is walking ahead of you
He is walking at a slower pace
He has internalized mindfulness
He does it as a matter of course
Your fall into his rhythm
And breathe
 
We drove across America together and
I fell in love with Fort Collins
We went to the stupa for my birthday and had a picnic in the park
With market wine and cheese and bread
 
I spent my second Christmas with Aaron,
My first with his family in Richmond
When I arrived after a long day of travel
Aaron and Jesse had strung fairy lights across the porch
We had “Jewish Christmas”
Watched a movie and ate Chinese food
Aaron and I decided to get married 
 
I waited impatiently for my fiancé visa
Quit my job at the Cambridge
And walked across Spain (again)
 
I arrived in Fort Collins at the beginning of winter
OpenStage and Old Town
Happy Heart and Wolverine Farm
My first Shakespeare
Volunteering and cycling and, best of all
Being with my love, at last
 
We packed up the car and drove east
Said goodbye to Ruth
My skin broke out in acne and I felt impossibly tired
And then it was Cancer
And Recovering from Cancer
Depression reared its ugly head and consumed me whole
 
I flew back to Australia
To say goodbye to Abuela
Sydney felt like an overgrown country town
Coming home to New York was a relief
 
We said goodbye to Jake
I was able to work again
I went to shows galore
I went to counseling
We visited Maine
 
And here you are.
 
Dear Me five years ago,
You go to drama school
You graduate (it feels weird) 
You work in London
You meet an American
You move to New York

Right now you don't know it, but all of this happens and more
You fall in love with an American
Who is an atheist descended from communist Jews
Who doesn’t eat vegetables
Is a wonderful cook
And is the most patient, kind, loving and wonderful human you can ever imagine
 
You love and hate London
You are poor
You live in different parts of the city and are continually amazed by its size and history and beauty
 
You walk the Camino (again)
 
You haven’t heard of it yet, but you live in Fort Collins, Colorado. It’s beautiful.
 
You get sick. The sickest you have ever been, and it’s going to suck.
You get better. It’s going to be a slog, but it happens. And the heaviness and tiredness and depression get easier (I think).
 
You say goodbye to Abuela
You are in the room when she passes away
And it will be peaceful and beautiful and sad
 
You live in New York
In Brooklyn specifically – your neighborhood is awesome
You are loved and cared for and held by extraordinary people
 
And one day,
Five years from now
You will be sitting in an office in Manhattan, around the corner from Grand Central
(Yep, you work there!)
And you will reflect on all that has happened between now and then
All the people you have met
The places you have seen
The things that have made your heart sing and be light
And you will laugh at your Five Year Plan
And wonder

​What’s next?

I alternate daily, even momentarily
Between embracing 
Being a survivor
And shunning it completely
Choosing to be in denial that I ever had cancer at all

I still get furious
That a fit and healthy organic-eating vegetarian 
Who never smoked
Rarely drank
Exercised and meditated
And at the age of 29 
Got goddamn cancer 
A cancer that normally affects men in their 60s 
How was this possible?
Why did this happen?

And then there is 
Survivor’s Guilt 
Why did I survive?
Why am I here?
What is my purpose?

I also have Survivor Jealousy 
There are actors who had cancer
And they're on Broadway and television 
And working and performing while having treatment 
And I think
Fuck, I couldn't even walk during treatment and they're singing and dancing 8 times a week?!
Which I wholeheartedly understand and own as completely insane 
No one has a good time going through cancer. 
Cancer is horrible. 

I still tire easily
I still have terrible, raging, crippling depression
I've lost my libido 
And I want so much to just 
Be Better

I don’t want to be recovering anymore 
I just want to be well
And able
And fit
And not stacking on weight because my hormones are now post-menopausal 

I want to be out auditioning
And singing
And going to classes
But just doing the 9-5 
To pay the bills
Takes all my energy
And leaves me feeling miserable 

I wasn’t like this Before. 
I could cope
Work two jobs
Go to classes
And still do shows 
And trip the light fantastic
Now it’s a miracle if I get out of bed and make it to work without crying

I’m a survivor
They say
You’re so lucky
An inspiration! 

But I’m just treading water
Fearful that at any moment
The shark will attack
Again
The thought is terrifying 
Every headache, every prolonged pain and moment of difficulty means
It’s back
Recurrence, relapse
Will I have to do this all over again? 

So I pretend it’s not there
I’m totally fine
I book tickets for shows after work because
It’s only a show right? I can manage that
But I get home and my body is in so much pain
So fatigued and wiped out
All I can do is lie on the couch and try not to have a nervous breakdown that I simply
Am Not Ready

They told me 
If all went all
Treatment would be done by Christmas
They didn’t tell me
The average recovery from a stem cell transplant
Is three to five years 
I’m a year and a half out
I don’t know if I can wait another a year and a half
The getting better is so incremental 
And I just want to be well

This process of being a survivor
Is fucking hard
I want to be (in the words of Elizabeth Gilbert) 
Heliotropic 
I want to turn my face to the light
And see the positive
See the good
Feel joyful that I’m alive

Life is like a rollercoaster they say
Like that bit in Parenthood
Where Steve Martin is freaking out and 
Grandma tells the story where Grandpa once took her on a rollercoaster 
“It was interesting to me 
That a ride could make me so frightened 
So scared, so sick, 
So excited and so thrilled all together
Some didn’t like it
They went on the merry-go-round,
That just goes around
Nothing.
I like the rollercoaster. 
You get more out of it.” 
I want to be like Grandma
But right now I’m still Steve Martin
Having a panic attack

I want to be Steve Martin
Joyfully
Playing the entr’acte
In the Broadway show
I’ve written and crafted out of love 

And sometimes I just have to remember
To Breathe, Just Breathe
The name of my own goddamn blog 
Oh the irony

Yes, I’m in remission
I survived
Three rounds of chemo
And full body irradiation
And having my sister’s stem cells injected into me 
And my nails falling off
And the skin of my feet cracking and peeling
And the contents of my stomach rising to my throat
The sensation that I’m falling
The sensation that I’m dying
My own blood turning against me
Attacking me from within 
For reasons yet, or perhaps forever, unknown 

I am a survivor 
And some days I wish I wasn’t
But I’m trying 

I am ok, really.
When I remember 
A year ago I couldn’t even ride the subway
And now I do it five or six times a week!
I work full-time! 
I’m taking piano lessons! 
Yesterday I went to an art exhibit and had coffee and went out to a bar!
A year ago I could barely walk to the markets and back, forget carrying the shopping
Now I can do it, and still have the energy to meet a friend! 

I have this gorgeous, wonderful
Incredibly patient and loving husband
Who has taken care of me through it all
Stroked my back when I was curled up next to the toilet bowl
Dressed me when my fingernails hurt so badly I couldn't do it myself 
Driven me to appointments
Sat with me while I screamed and cried and railed against the unfairness that is this disease
And despite everything 
He is by my side
And oh how I love him so. 

This is life after cancer
I’m not a patient patient
I want to be a thousand percent better yesterday
I want to never have had stupid cancer in the first place 
But I did
And here I am. 

The track below the platform is a sea of
Bottles and plastic bags and old newspapers

A kid on the platform
Thirteen, or fourteen
Takes out a stick of gum
Unwraps it 
Pops it in their mouth 
Chews

The wrapper is made out of foil and
Four times the size of the object it was protecting

The kid steps to the edge of the platform
Holds the wrapper aloft
Looks around and
Throws it into the sea

​The trash can on the platform
Sits empty.