I got ripped from the clutch of Manhattan, and went back to Utah to re-assess my life. This was the 11th time I moved back into my parents. I could go back to New York, work 2 jobs, pay rent, and hope to make my way in that city. I could get married and move to Los Angeles, or I could stay in Salt Lake.
I was nervous to get married.
I loved Mitchell, but I was skeptical marrying someone younger than me. 6 years younger than me! He was pushing for it. I secretly wanted it, but I didn't want it to be the end of my idea of freedom.
I took a weekend location scouting job in Monument Valley. I invited my recovering heroin addict brother along. It was all fine until Saturday 3 in the morning.
My brother freaked out. We barely slept. We worked from 7am Friday - 7am Sunday with no sleep.
It took coming back to Utah.
It took one second in my family drama to realize:
This isn't the place.
I'm 26 and I need to make solid moves now.
Should I get married? If I didn't get married, I'd be looking for someone to sleep with in 6 months.