When the question, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” became less of a fun ice breaker and more of a deciding factor for the next four or more years of my life, I was forced to spend time reflecting on who I am, who I was, and who I wanted to become. I spent a majority of my adolescence auditioning for any theater opportunity within reach. After ten years of dance calls, rehearsals and tech weeks, I would be lying if I said theater wasn’t my biggest passion in life and I didn’t want to pursue it for a time, and yet here I am writing this, five weeks into my Freshman year of college as an English Education major.Â
My senior year of high school was spent auditioning for every last musical or theatrical opportunity I could be a part of. I found success in some of them, and I was able to grow and thrive in the connections I had formed in the department. Along with this, however, I faced a lot of rejection. As I was already questioning if continuing this passion after high school was worth it, I would continue to pour all of myself into the department, only to be disappointed time and time again. No matter how mature you are, no matter how much rejection and redirection you face, disappointment will always suck, especially when those you are competing against are some of your closest friends.Â
I owe most of my closest relationships to theater, the trauma of multiple tech weeks, early morning call times and pre-show warm ups really help you bond, and I could not be more grateful for the people I have in my life because of theater. With that being said, there will always be a sense of competitive nature when doing theater together. When you learn who you’re up against, it’s easy to make assumptions, and therefore compare yourself to some of the people you love most. No matter how healthy your relationships with these people are, audition season and cast lists bring out the most hard work in everyone, but not everyone can be given the same opportunities. This leads to rejection, over and over again; disappointment over and over again, and finally: Burnout.Â
Despite all of this, after I wrapped up my final musical in March of 2026, I was still convinced I was going to continue my theatrical career with a minor in theater arts. What was the final straw, you may ask? At the end of my senior year, my best friend and I auditioned an emotional duet for my final choir concert of high school, and once again, I was met with disappointment. The years of hard work that I had gone through finally caught up to me and I realized it was time for me to let go. Not because I didn’t still have a passion for it, not because it didn’t fulfill me and not because I didn’t love it, but because I loved it too much. The unhealthy relationship I found myself in with this activity led to me putting my entire self worth into the way a director perceived me, and I needed to break it off.Â
Realistically, there is no way I can ever fully let theater out of my life. I will carry its lessons with me in my future career, I will still participate in music with a competitive a capella group here on campus, and I will definitely still volunteer to present to the class first. But I will no longer let it define who I am as a person or shape how I view myself. Maybe I’ll return to it one day, but for now, I have taken my final bow and theater and I are on an official break.