For years, my goals have been clear, but for years, I sabotage them all. While part of me wants to lay blame somewhere for my insecurity, I know it’s nobody’s fault but my own that I’m 41 and haven’t had the guts to do what I really want to do with my life so far. I am my own puppet master, I am the writer of my story, the chooser of my path, the owner of my faults. Why can’t I get my shit together?
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t discount my blessings. This isn’t a pity party, it’s just self-reflection. I am well aware just how many blessings I have, and I do not for a moment take those for granted.
What I’m talking about is how gutless I feel. Every day, I preach about the Show Me Your Brave project, and encourage people to embrace and share their courage. It’s my goal to empower and inspire people, and I’d I set one goal for myself: to pitch it to agents in the fall. I started the pitch, I really did. And it’s almost done! That’s a huge thing for me. But almost isn’t the same as finished. And so it sits.
I put things off, because there’s always tomorrow.
I postpone because it’s easier than facing rejection.
I sabotage because it gives me control.
I question myself because that’s just who I am.
I want to say that now that 2016 is behind me, I’ll buckle down, focus, and git ‘er dun, but I’ve known myself for almost 42 years, and I just don’t trust myself to be that brave. So maybe you’ll all do me a favour? Maybe ask me how that pitch is coming along? Maybe ask how the rejections are going, or if anyone’s shown interest? Maybe, like a group of fitness friends, we can ask each other, cheerlead, and push each other to reach our goals?
I want this. I know I do.
I’m my own worst enemy, and my legs can’t kick my own ass, so I need your help. Consider this the big ask:
Will you help me get Show Me Your Brave published?