I talk about this in more depth in Just A Geek, but for years I lived with a very profound sense of shame. The huge acting career that I’d hoped for when I left Star Trek never happened, and as I grew through my twenties, I realized just what an epic asshole I’d been throughout my teenage years. Regret was a constant companion, and it was very hard for me to face friends and family, because I felt like I’d let everyone down.
Of course, that wasn’t the case. I had most certainly let myself down, but to the people who loved me, how I was doing in my career was unimportant. It took me several years to get over myself, (to follow that process in every excruciating detail, just go back to the beginning of WWdN’s archives, and start reading) but once I finally did, I realized how many years I just . . . wasted.
So last week, I called my mom. I’ve talked with her before about my feelings of disappointment, shame and regret, and I recalled that conversation.
“So now that I’m over all of that, I feel good, and happy, and at peace with my life and career . . .”
“It’s good that I can separate my life and my career. There’s a lesson I wish I’d learned ten years ago.” I thought.
” . . . and I realize how much I miss seeing you and dad,” I said. “I’d like to make an effort to do more things together.”
“We’d like that,” she said.
“So could we plan on getting together at least twice a month for dinner, or something?”
“Sure! Just give us a call.”
“Okay, I will. I love you, mom.”
“I love you too, Willow.”
Tuesday night, Anne and I realized that we’d both be up near my parents’ house on Thursday, so I called my mom and asked her if we could bring the kids up for dinner.
“I’ll bring everything to make grilled teriyaki chicken sandwiches!” I said.
“That would be wonderful. I’ll make a salad, and I’ll even warm up the pool,” she said. Then, sotto voce: “Don’t tell your father.”
I giggled. “Okay. We’ll see you Thursday!”
So last night, Ryan and I were in my mom and dad’s kitchen, preparing dinner, when my sister came downstairs.
“Are you eating with us?” I said, as I pounded a chicken breast.
“Yeah,” she said.
“I didn’t realize you were going to be joining us,” I said, “so I only bought one package of sandwich buns.”
“Oh, that’s okay,” she said, “I can’t eat chicken anyway.”
“I got her a steak,” my mom said, from the dining room.
“Would you like me to save you some teriyaki sauce and some pineapple, so you can have teriyaki steak?” I asked her.
“I don’t know if I want to make filet mignon into teriyaki steak,” my sister said.
“Filet mignon?!” Ryan said, and turned to me. “Wil, I don’t eat chicken either.”
We all laughed.
“Just kidding,” he said, ” . . . or am I?”
I turned to my mom. “I’m so glad we came up tonight.”
“Me too,” she said.