“Where am I?” I thought, cracking one eyelid open in a battle against the rays of the morning sun and the dulling effects of a long sleepless night. The singular leather jacket substituting for a blanket reeked of smoke and was hardly keeping me warm enough in the brisk air. I sat up on the hard cement roof and struggled to make sense of my surroundings. My back ached and I repositioned myself against my over-sized canvas luggage. Within moments, I recalled the events of the previous night.
Jackie and I had gone out to celebrate our recent victory, but mostly to forget about the stress that was behind us. We ended up at a dance club in Tokyo mingling with the darlings of the moment –two sumo wrestlers and Denzel Washington. In the meantime, Pueblo models had received a phone call from a friend of mine in the U.S. asking when I was scheduled to arrive home. Somehow in the shuffle, I had not filled her in on the plan I had hatched to stay there while my stateside agent found me a new agent in Taipei. After much back and forth, the agency realized that I had not departed Japan as I had led them to believe and was in fact still there. This whole exchange only became apparent when after returning to the apartment, I quickly realized they were waiting outside the complex for our return. I immediately hid in a stairwell while Jackie distracted them enough to get in the apartment and hide my luggage on the balcony. They were determined to inspect the apartment for any sign that I was still there. Who knows what their intentions were beyond that; after learning of the Mafia’s involvement with modeling agencies in Milan, I wasn’t about to find out.
I spent that night hiding on the roof of the 5-story complex, shivering in the cold and contemplating the lack of greater meaning in my life while gazing up at the open star-filled sky. I didn’t know where else to turn, and I had very little cash. Jackie was scared and didn’t want to draw any attention to herself and so I was alone. For one night of my life, I experienced what it might be like to be homeless, uncertain of what the very next hour ahead held, fearing for my safety, cold and hungry, feeling alone and intoxicated. It was messy and ugly. My life was a facade. Closer examination exposed the cracks and flaws of this glamorous and empty lie. Partying with movie stars and mobsters one moment, meeting with some of the biggest clients in town the next, then sleeping on a roof top. Add to that the sheer pressure of daily physical critique and rejection based on nothing of substance and it was enough to push an emotionally undeveloped 18 year old over the edge. The built in expectation to look and play a part that didn’t align with my upbringing or me as a real human being caused me to question my integrity and sense of self-worth daily. Undue attention from shallow bystanders built a paper-thin sense of pride and invincibility that was routinely shattered with a single blow. There was no sense to be made of it. I was not cut out for this type of dissection and didn’t want to subject myself to it any longer.
Image courtesy Sam Pac
I looked down from the rooftop upon the warmth of the family homes around me. They represented the stability and comfort that I longed for. In the quiet calm of that night, I began to find myself again. As I waited for the sun to fully rise, I determined to call my mother to help me get out of there immediately, regardless of my agent’s efforts. For the first time in a long while, I felt within myself a desire to pray for help, to seek that which would bring real peace and happiness. While I had chosen for several years to ignore and even run away from those persistent and deep spiritual yearnings, they could not be denied or forgotten. In my darkest days and most rebellious wanderings, I knew with certainty that the Mormon faith in which I was raised was true; I had personal confirmation of this on more than one occasion. Yet, I wanted it to vanish and to believe that it wasn’t important, that I could live the boundary-less life I wanted without repercussion, conscience, or worry. I was determined to carve out my own path, to prove to myself and the world that there was a better and easier way. But the tender mercies of the Lord are upon us all, and despite my naive and foolish ways, angels tread where others would not.
December 19, 2011 at 2:35 pm ·
This is such a gripping series!! I will be glad when I know you are safe and sound even though, obviously you are okay!! You must have been so scared. Thanks for sharing this part of your life with us!
December 19, 2011 at 3:02 pm ·
Wow! I feel the anxiety build up in me as I read this! And when you begin to notice glimpses of your faith and the complexity of the magnetism both to and from it, I am intrigued, hopeful, and curious how you will bring it all together.
December 20, 2011 at 4:13 pm ·
Holy cow. I’m like, what novel am I reading here? I can’t even fathom that fear and lonliness, especially in a foreign country. I soooo want to skip to the end of the book to see how it all turns out. God bless…
Sharon
December 20, 2011 at 6:09 pm ·
You write so well! I definitely found myself feeling your emotions as I was reading. I think we have all experienced the vulnerability of youth and I am definitely interested to see how this turns out for you. Thank you for sharing this personal journey!
December 20, 2011 at 8:45 pm ·
Thank you for sharing your all too uncommon story. The plight of teenage models is truly terrifying. I’m glad you made it out safely.
Visiting from Vb today.
December 21, 2011 at 1:30 am ·
I can’t imagine how scared you must have felt – at only 18! But these experiences (although they are awful at the time) are what help build us into stronger (and wiser) people. I look forward to the next part in your series…
Thanks for sharing,
Kristina
December 21, 2011 at 3:36 am ·
Thanks for stopping by! Can’t wait to check out your latest posts. Merry Christmas.
December 21, 2011 at 3:37 am ·
Thanks for visiting…..Merry Christmas!
December 21, 2011 at 3:38 am ·
I’m glad to know other young people feel this way….we all gain so much more perspective with time. Youth truly is “wasted” on the young. Looking forward to reading more of your posts.
December 21, 2011 at 3:38 am ·
Thanks Sharon! We’re almost to the end! Thankfully. Merry Christmas.
December 21, 2011 at 3:39 am ·
Thanks Lynn~ I’m anxious to see how I tie it all together myself.
Wish me luck. I’m going to need it.
December 21, 2011 at 3:40 am ·
Thanks Kathy! Just been reading your blog today as well. I always get a good chuckle. Merry Christmas!
December 22, 2011 at 10:46 am ·
I am at a loss for words. Wow. This is so engaging and real and I really appreciate your vulnerability.
December 22, 2011 at 1:09 pm ·
Thanks for stopping by Miriam. Looking forward to checking out your blog.