It’s taken me 28 years (and a shit ton of cancer treatment) to finally realize that no one is coming to save me. I have always subscribed, on some unconscious level, to the unspoken scam that iterates over and over- I’m not complete. I’ve spent my life assessing my worth, success, and general OK-ness by comparing myself to others or orbiting around someone who seems to have it “figured out”. I’ve made it a point to be flexible and malleable enough to fit in anywhere, with anyone. I’m not sure why, but I seemed to think that having no stake in the game of my life was somehow going to work out.
This habit got so bad that the Universe had to sweep in and interrupt my unoriginal-as-fuck life plan by blindsiding me with a terminal illness. After 2 years of treatment, an experimental bone marrow transplant, and a lot of recovery, I’m a little bit older and exponentially wiser (phew!).
I get the message. It’s time to start over with an intentionally *chosen* direction of my very own. A direction that is empowering yet humble, thrilling yet steadfast, challenging yet worthy. Now, I just need to decide what that is exactly…
Join me as I fumble through figuring it out.