WARNING: All that you are about to read is currently nothing more than a hypothetical rant that has been currently torturing me.

My husband Eric is looking into new job opportunities, some of which are not located in our current hometown of Chicago, IL. Although it’s not uncommon for families to move for a job, especially in an economy like this people “need to do what they need to do”. For whatever reason, in my mind I just never imagined us leaving Chicago. Deep inside the regions of my brain is this “ideal life” I had for myself and moving does not compute. What seems even more frightening is the idea of moving back to the state of my childhood, Iowa. One of the jobs Eric is considering applying for is in the town both my parents and brother’s family reside, Davenport, IA, two and a half hours away from Chicago. When Eric and I discuss our “maybes, our what ifs, and our could bes” about a moving to Iowa, we focus on the “pros” - lower cost of living, schools, family, less traffic, opportunity and security. Kids can be kids, run through backyards, go to public school for a top-quality education, and you can own a huge, beautiful home for the price of a 2-bedroom Lakeview condo. All good, if not great aspects. The only trouble is....it’s Iowa.

When I think of Iowa, I slam hard into the brick wall of my childhood. I think of this pudgy, four-eyed, awkward girl who was shadowed by her popular brothers and intense father, who didn’t seem to get anything right, and who couldn’t wait to get out. I didn’t seem to fit in Iowa. I easily faded into the background of my own life. Even now, when visiting there for a little too long, I sense myself reverting into that sad little girl. Seeking comfort in sweets, embarrassed to speak my mind in conversation, not belonging.

I left Iowa 3 weeks after graduating college and headed to the big city of Phoenix, Arizona. I bloomed. I wasn’t reminded of who I was and as such was given this free canvas to begin anew. I developed a person that wasn’t known as someone else’s daughter or sister, but carved from my experiences and challenges, ones that I took on alone and either failed or succeeded. I lived and learned there for 10 years. These last 6 years I’ve lived in Chicago, IL., and grew upon that person an even stronger one. I really like the woman I’ve become, and I don’t want to lose her. I’m nervous. Would I fall victim to Iowa? Lose my power, my strength, who I am? Could I become even more powerful, and make Iowa work for me? Turn it into the best aspects of both cities?

I do want to raise a family. I want the hustle and bustle of the city with a quiet front porch and hang my laundry on the line to dry in the summer. I want my kids to run through backyards and play street hockey without too much worry. I also wanna get good sushi when I’m in the mood and see a broadway-style play whenever I want. I adore hearing the train and yet I want my kids to catch fireflys in a jar. I do want to have a home, money in the bank, and a plan for my future. I do....I do want it all. Is that even really possible?

And of course....all of this....EVERY WORD AND THOUGHT....ALL OF IT....is hypothetical.

For now.

Before this year is over, I’ll be done improvising. I began in 1997 with Louis Anthony Russo and The OxyMoron’Z and I’ll hang it all up at Improv Olympic (iO) in Chicago before 2009 is done. A huge aspect of my life will be over. It’s time. The world of improvisation is an amazing drug, a gotta-have-it comedy heroin that will change your life forever. It has changed mine immensely.

Improvisation revealed to me an inner strength I had never known, lifelong friendships I deeply cherish, and opportunities that I never could have dreamt for myself. It seemed as if improv knew me better than I did....and as the years progressed my creativity soared. Everything became more vivid in general. Improvising drove my interest into writing, directing, traveling and performing in festivals. Improvisation made me a better thinker, organizer, conversationalist. I’ve been madlly in love with it, and I’ve hated it for taking over my life so fully.

In the last two years, I’ve been figuring out how to let improvisation go. It wouldn’t let me until now. Now it knows I’ll be okay. Improv knows that I’m ready for the next great things life has to offer me....a deeper delve into sketch comedy writing and performing, new interests that are nibbling at my heart, and family. That’s the way it’s supposed to be, and that’s the way that improv wants it for me. I’m eternally grateful. I fought this realization for a while, wanting to stay loyal and scared of the unknown combined. Now there is a peace. A wonderful, happy peace that now savors every moment of play until the last.This week begins the first show of my last team at Improv Olympic. It’s going to be fun. I’m lucky. I’m grateful. I’m an improviser.