Thank Goodness

This month, Wicked celebrates its 15th magical year on Broadway. The musical about a pre-Dorothy Oz has been my favorite for more than a decade. While the story and music have resonated with me for nearly half my life, carrying me from my tween years into my 20’s, I’ve found myself relating to different aspects of the show as I age. At this particular stage, I’ve turned to the following verse from “Thank Goodness”:

That’s why I couldn’t be happier
No, I couldn’t be happier
Though it is, I admit
The tiniest bit
Unlike I anticipated
But I couldn’t be happier
Simply couldn’t be happier
Well — not “simply”:
’Cause getting your dreams
It’s strange, but it seems
A little — well — complicated
There’s a kind of a sort of a cost
There’s a couple of things get: lost
There are bridges you cross
You didn’t know you crossed
Until you’ve crossed
And if that joy, that thrill
Doesn’t thrill you like you think it will
Still -
With this perfect finale
The cheers and ballyhoo
Who wouldn’t be happier?
So I couldn’t be happier
Because happy is what happens
When all your dreams come true
Well, isn’t it?
Happy is what happens
When your dreams come true!

A couple weeks ago, I was offered my first professional theatre contract. While it’s very exciting to have achieved one of my dreams, becoming a professional actor, this show has taken me several states away from my family, friends, and boyfriend for the holiday season. While my circumstances are much different than those of G(a)linda, I do now better understand her sacrifice, and the complex nature of experiencing loss and bliss simultaneously.

I truly couldn’t be happier. I keep pinching myself. Just yesterday, I held my first paycheck in my hands and couldn’t believe that someone was giving me money to do what I love most. I feel like I should be paying the theater for letting me be there. Who wouldn’t be happier?

Still, as the song goes, it’s — well — complicated. When I was deciding whether or not I should sign the contract, I considered all the things I’d be missing. Watching the Macy’s Parade with my family, seeing autumn turn to winter, visiting the tree at Rockefeller Center almost daily in anticipation of Christmas, doing my annual one-woman kickline to “New York, New York” when the ball drops on New Year’s Eve. I’ll be home for a few days to celebrate Christmas, but I’ll be missing both my mother and my boyfriend’s birthdays that same week. It’ll likely be more than two months before I can kiss or hold hands with or hug my boyfriend again. There’s a kind of a sort of cost.

I am beyond grateful for the opportunity I’ve been given. I’ve been living in the cast house for a week, and the time has already gone by so quickly. I anticipate it going even faster once I’m locked into a routine of doing eight shows a week. I am genuinely treasuring every minute spent here. I feel like I’m a step closer to my next career goals: getting my Equity card, performing on Broadway, etc. But at the same time I’m building toward my career, I also want to build toward my other big dream: having a family. I want to move in with my boyfriend, get engaged, be married, and have kids. An acting career complicates that timeline. It is equally important to me to work toward the family dream as it is to work toward career success. I tend to be a workaholic, but I already know that when I get home from this job, I want to take a little bit of time off and dedicate some more attention to my relationship. My partner is proud of me and endlessly supportive. I want to make that abundantly clear. I know that he would never ask me to pump the brakes on my professional ambitions. But I also know that I want to spend my life with him. There are bridges you cross you didn’t know you crossed until you’ve crossed.

I am still so young. I have so many decades of choices and triumphs and bumps on the path ahead of me. For now, I think the only reasonable option is to appreciate the journey. I’m not even close to having accomplished all of my dreams, and that is more than alright with me. There’s so much to look forward to in life. Things may not turn out to look exactly the way I pictured or within the timeline I envisioned, but that’s okay. Right now, in this very moment, I am healthy, I am thriving, and I am happy. And to that I say thank goodness.