And then there are days...

like today.

The reality of what I am about to do is setting in. The fact that I am leaving everything I know behind. The fact that I will finally be *just* a working singer. No other day jobs. No running back and forth trying to scrape by, killing myself trying to make ends meet. All I will have to do is sing. And this is the thing that scares me the most.

There are stretches of 20 days where I will be singing and not getting a break. Not a single day off. Every night a show (and I'm sure some matinees will be thrown in there too.) So much travel. Rarely more than a day or two in one place (except for two glorious weeks in Fort Lauderdale.) For four months. I will not have anyone to rely on except myself. I will be completely at the mercy of my own body, my own voice, my own care. This is terrifying.

Nothing can prepare you for something like this. I'm praying that I make it through in one piece. I will have to get into a routine that I've never had before. This isn't the same as getting up everyday at 7 am for my day job. I will need to eat better. I will need to prepare like a real singer. I will need to learn to shift my sleeping patterns, and I'm sure I will need to learn how to sleep on a bus full of people. This also means there will be no kitty waking me up at 3 am to play as well. An ear-full of wet nose isn't the most pleasant thing to wake up to. Trust me.

The fear sets in at inopportune times. I should be rejoicing right now. I should be feeling elated. I have finally had the break that so many people, so many of my friends, yearn for. And here I am terrified because I haven't yet received my contract, as though they might change their minds and take it all back. That I will wake up one morning and find myself back to square one again. It's ridiculous I know. But the thought has crossed my mind more than once.

But there are also moments of pure joy. I met with the photographer today who will be taking my head shots next week. He is such a nice, warm-hearted person. He was genuinely happy for me. He understands how insane this all is, and how I am one in a million. The audition experience I had doesn't happen to many. I am one of the rare lucky ones. And this is what I have to trust in.

My voice is solid. It always has been. I will have faith in that. Even at my worst, I knew that it was still there, as if it were some indestructible force. And in this, I will trust. That I will be fine. No matter what.