where I've been

I was so disillusioned by the pressure to achieve and our culture’s skewed definition of success that I forgot to want something for myself. Beyond forgetting, I ran away from trying. I told myself I didn’t need a career, that it was useless to plan and downright foolish to dream. So I stopped dreaming up a future life and sat still for a long while, treading water and chasing hopelessness around my brain. These past months have been a stagnant aching, but slowly my inner truth has revealed itself. Don’t be afraid, it whispers, take a risk. My heart stretches wide to allow for learning. I suddenly see all my fear laid out before me more plainly than ever before: the fear of failing, the fear of not knowing, the fear of pushing myself far, far away from every comfort. These are the big conclusions grown from long stretches of waiting, listening, thinking, crying, and wondering. These are the answers to my prayers, these final chest cracking breaths, teaching me the sound and definition of epiphany. These months I’ve learned about work, and fear, and trusting myself. I’ve searched—chiseled at, tore apart—my insides and now I am crawling out a new woman. I hear my fears in every sour-stomach, heart-pounding choice that tells me to run away, and I’ve just decided: I’m done being scared. The word “strong” motivates me so much it brings tears to my eyes. But the most sensational thing is the sun that has poured in from every single gaping hole there used to be. I think it’s called hope.