As a rule, I dream big. I always have. Scattered thoughts blossom into full-bodied ideas, plans, schemes, just begging to be put into action. And I start to do just that. To follow. Somehow, I always let something stop me. It’s a decision I make. Conscious or not, it is my responsibility and mine alone to see my dreams come to fruition. No one else can make this happen for me. I will have to stand up for what I want. And I’ll have to fight for it. And it’s not going to be pretty. And that is okay.
No more will I be the girl who never fights for her dreams. Chase them until it gets too hard. Or it hurts to much to not see the envisioned success become reality.
In the past, when the tough got going, I never got tough. I quit. So, because I’ve done this all my life, does that mean that I AM a quitter?
What a terribly, awfully, horriblly, wretched thought.
I’m not a quitter am I?
Oh no!! No, no, no. Not me.
I always thought of myself as a fighter. All this time. I thought I fought for what I believed in. For what I wanted. Maybe I never have before.
Maybe this time will be different.
It feels different. It feels like something is actually happening. Like that precipice I’ve been dodging for years is suddenly - SMACK - right in front of me! Screaming at me. Ordering me to jump. Now!
Behind me, blocking my retreat, my hope and my faith stand hand in hand, winking at each other, and cheering me on.
Maybe this time will be different.
I can do this.
It’s time.
.
