“Flat Tires, Cancelled Shows, and Emotional Breakdowns: The Day I Got Schooled in Independence”

Have you ever had one of those days that starts off like a cute rom-com but ends like a tragic Lifetime movie? You wake up thinking you’re that girl — the one who has her life together — and by the end of the day, you’re crying in your car on the side of the freeway, wondering if God is testing your patience or just trolling you for content.

Yeah, that was my day.

Let me start from the top. I’ve been on a little comedy break lately — not because I fell out of love with making people laugh, but because I decided to focus on something new: my podcast. I’m launching In Bed with Christy Love soon, and let’s just say the name alone needs no explanation. Plus, I’ve been working with a podcast coach to make sure I don’t sound like I’m recording in a closet with a fan blowing behind me and I don’t look stupid in interviews. 

But honestly, I hit pause on comedy because juggling too many things makes me anxious. You ever feel like your brain is a web browser with 87 tabs open, and you can’t find the one playing music? That’s me, daily. So instead of doing everything halfway, I decided to focus on podcast training fully. Smart move, right? Except… I didn’t realize how lonely the process would feel.

I’ve been having meltdowns for the last year since my husband Stephen went to prison, due to all the pressures, changes, challenges, and learning to be a grown ass woman — and I don’t mean the cute “ugh, I spilled my coffee” kind. I mean full-blown baby tantrums. The type where if someone looked at me wrong, I’d cry harder than a toddler who just dropped their ice cream cone. But the good news? The podcast training is starting to boost my confidence again. I feel like I’m almost ready to get back on that stage — not the stripper pole (been there, done that) — but the comedy stage.

So today, I finally said, “Let’s do this!” I got glammed up, picked out a cute Halloween-themed outfit — because nothing says “I’m ready to be funny again” like a black-and-orange mini skirt — and of course, I topped it off with my favorite heels. When I tell you I looked adorable, I mean don’t let the devil test me, I’m fine as hell adorable.

I jumped in the car, ready to slay my comeback set. LA traffic had other plans. Forty-five minutes later, I finally pulled into the venue — only to find out… it was cancelled. Yep. They sent an email while I was driving saying the open mic wasn’t happening tonight. I sat there in disbelief, like, “Really, God? You couldn’t send me a sign before I spent $20 on gas and half my will to live?”

But it gets better. I sigh, back out of the parking lot, and start heading home. Halfway down the freeway, I hear this rattling sound — the kind of sound that makes your stomach drop faster than a bad breakup text. Then my car starts shaking, and I just know. I pull over, get out, and there it is: a flat tire.

At that moment, I didn’t even cuss. I just stared at it like, “Of course. Why not? Let’s just throw in a plague of locusts while we’re at it.”

So there I was, sitting on the side of the highway, calling my insurance company for a tow truck. Cars are flying by, lights are blinding me, and I’m sitting in the dark, miserable, and low-key panicking. You know that feeling when you realize you’re a grown woman but still want your dad, your husband, or someone to come save you? That was me.

When Stephen was out, he handled everything. Flat tire? He called the tow truck — I just sat there looking cute. Broken sink? He knew exactly who to call — I thought “turning it off and on again” worked for plumbing too. Random noise in the middle of the night? He’d grab a bat, and I’d grab Tofu, our dog-slash-emotional-support-guard-animal. Now? It’s just me, Google, and Jesus trying to figure it all out. And let me tell you — it’s not fun, it’s humbling.

So I’m sitting there trying to stay calm when this random car pulls up behind me. Two young guys get out — maybe early twenties — and start walking toward me. My heart jumps into my throat. I’m thinking, great, this is how every Dateline episode starts.

I crack my window open just an inch — because, you know, I’m brave but not stupid brave — and one of them says, “Do you need help?”

I smiled politely, “No thank you, I already called for a tow.”

They nodded and drove off. And let me tell you, I have never been so grateful to see taillights. For a second there, I thought my final headline was going to read: “Local comedian found dead with a flat tire and fabulous outfit.”

Finally, after what felt like forever, my tow truck driver arrived — my hero of the night. He was like an angel in a reflective vest. He fixed my tire, and I could finally breathe again. I was supposed to do another show tonight, but honestly, after that emotional rollercoaster, I just wanted to go home, take off my heels, and eat something comforting… ice cream.

So here I am instead, sitting at home, writing this blog because sometimes, when life gives you flat tires, you’ve got to turn it into funny material.

And as I was sitting there reflecting, I realized something — today wasn’t really about bad luck. It was about learning to handle things myself. It was about learning that I don’t need someone else to rescue me every time life hits a pothole.

Because being independent isn’t just paying your bills or living alone. It’s sitting in a scary moment, heart racing, lights flashing, and saying to yourself, “You got this.” Even when you feel like you don’t.

So yeah, today sucked. My show got canceled, I got a flat tire, and I nearly had a panic attack on the highway. But you know what? I survived. I didn’t die, didn’t give up, didn’t call anyone to bail me out. I handled it.

And that’s the real win.

The lesson? Life will always test your patience — sometimes in traffic, sometimes with a flat tire, sometimes in the form of an email saying your night’s plans are canceled. But every test is a reminder that you’re stronger than you think, braver than you feel, and more capable than you give yourself credit for.

So if you ever find yourself stranded on life’s highway — literally or metaphorically — just remember this: it’s okay to freak out a little, it’s okay to cry, but don’t forget to laugh about it later. Because that’s what turns the worst days into the best stories.

And that, my friends, is how a cancelled comedy night turned into a lesson in independence — with a side of sarcasm, stilettos, and survival.

Remember you are my lovers, whether you love me or love to hate me you are still my lover!

Don’t forget Jesus loves you and so do I!