The Loneliest Year: Part Six

August 2020

I figured out the explosive bass I’d been hearing in my bedroom since June was coming from an apartment three floors above me, WHICH WAS INSANE. When I went to ask other tenants if they were also bothered by the music, a very cute guy came to one of the doors wearing a mask. The next day I taped a handwritten letter to his door, asking if he might want to stay in touch. I wasn’t sure if he was gay or single, but my intuition told me to go for it. He messaged me that night, and as we chatted on Instagram, he shared a photo of his girlfriend. Cool, cool, cool.

The next time we chatted, I found out that we’d both fooled around with guys at the same spa, and he was bisexual. Interesting. The next day, he casually mentioned that he had a high sex drive and was thinking about asking his girlfriend to open their relationship.

And the plot thickened.

After four and a half months in quarantine, I had glowed-up. I’d gone on virtual dates with men all over the world. I’d tackled and completed organization projects. I’d composed a heart-felt song, I’d written a short play, and I’d co-written two different TV pilot drafts. When I wasn’t teaching myself digital photography, I was auditioning via self-tapes and keeping my acting skills sharp as a cold reader for casting workshops. I was exercising daily and eating healthy, and I’d gotten into the best shape of my life.

And then I cried for two days straight, because no matter what I did, life without Jesse felt unbearable.

I cried while driving to McDonald’s, and then I cried in the line of the McDonald’s drive-thru.

I met a friend at The Grove who made me feel worse while trying to make me feel better, and after we parted ways, I fell to the ground and sobbed openly in public. I literally could not stop crying.

The next day, I had another sobbing attack in the kitchen. I slid down to the floor, mortified that I’d somehow become the lead of a Lifetime original movie. I didn’t want to kill myself, but I also didn’t want to keep living, and I was worried. I knew I had tons of people I could call for help, but after what happened at The Grove, I knew the wrong person might send me over the edge. Randomly, I went onto Twitter, and I saw a tweet from Melissa Schuman, and something told me to reach out to her.

Melissa listened, and she wasn’t dismissive, and she quickly discerned I was hurting because I was resisting how I felt about Jesse—that I felt guilty about not being able to move on from him. She told me that it was okay to love him. Even if I had let him go. Even if he never loved me back.

I honestly think she might have saved my life.

An hour later, I got into a terrible argument with my dad who didn’t understand why I was still feeling down about Jesse and why I couldn’t just focus on my career. I finally got him to listen and understand that all I did was work. Every single day. Running and lifting weights. Writing two pilots simultaneously. Reading for casting workshops. Filming self-tapes. Constant work for no pay, and I hated every moment. When Jesse was in my life, all the work was easier, and now that he was gone, it was constant and even harder. And I was not okay. In a very deep way, I was not okay.

My dad recommended mental health assistance, and I agreed.

In the evening, I sat on the floor, weeping, and I talked with God. I apologized for being angry at Him for taking Jesse away, and I sought His assistance. I said I was open to someone else, but I prayed He would send me Jesse, because being with him was my heart’s greatest desire.

The next morning, I did some deep soul-searching. I researched co-dependency and anxious-attachment, and I saw some parallels, but they didn’t fully resonate.

I watched Love on the Spectrum, and cried during every episode, because I’d never been in a relationship, and I understood what it felt like to be rejected because I was different. “Too good” as Jesse had said.

I matched with a cute nurse on Tinder named Ky. We went on one FaceTime date where he told me was already hooking up with two other guys during the pandemic, and it was clear we weren’t a match.

I finally got Adam (the author) to meet with me in person so I could give him a gift package inspired by one of his books. I could tell that he just wanted to be friends, and I was cool with that, but he still ghosted me a few weeks later even though I was only ever nice to him.

I kept getting messages from people I randomly thought about without having to reach out to them. Everyone except for Jesse.

I filmed two episodes of So Far, So Close written by Michael Varrati and Brendan Haley, and I did a Zoom read of David Sonnenborn’s new pilot draft entitled Larry in the Sky with Diamonds.

In mid-June, I started therapy through Pride Counseling with a counselor named Kandace.

I set two intentions: 1) to do everything from a place of love instead of a place of fear, and 2) to keep adding good things to my life—one good thing at a time—until I had a lot of good things.

I started watching The Umbrella Academy. I bought myself roses from Trader Joes. I ordered a bunch of crop tops, and I wore one in public. I practiced the piano again for the first time since April. Songs from musicals. Songs that channeled my feelings for Jesse into something healthy and creative.

One day, I watched the pilot episode of Just Shoot Me, and it made me laugh, so I kept watching it. I’d eat four freezer pops (from one of the five different brands I’d ordered) while watching an episode, and that was the highlight of my day. The one, small thing that kept me from giving into despair.

I went on a socially-distanced walk with Jim Rash, and I dropped off a birthday gift for my friend, Tommaso.

Although I’d stopped having sobbing attacks, I was constantly on the verge of tears. My friend, Alexia, asked me to be in a project, and I had to turn it down. I also stepped down from The Groundlings Steering Committee. My cup was empty. And I withdrew. From as much as possible.

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Part Seven:

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Note from the Writer

This is part six in a thirteen-part essay series that details my year in quarantine from March 15, 2020 to March 15, 2021. If you enjoyed this essay, I hope you'll add a heart and continue reading the other essays in the series.

Tips are not mandatory, but greatly appreciated.

Thank you for reading.