Maria's Random Rants

This is 10% luck, 20% skill, 15% concentrated power of will,
5% pleasure, 50% pain, and 100% reason to remember the name.

Fort Minor

I root for myself, a lot. Really I do.

Life is hard enough as it is just trying to get through the day to day stuff, dare you start dreaming for something bigger, setting ambitions for yourself that seem dubious, silly even. Sometimes I need to cheer myself on just to get through the day.

Far back as I can remember I’ve lived my life backwards. I made a hundred mistakes before I got even one thing right. I had sex before I could drive, kids before I could drink, and an ex-husband before I graduated high school. By the time I had an idea who and where I wanted to be, I was already halfway to somewhere else. I’ve paid for my mistakes dearly and I’m still trying to make things right, but it isn’t always easy.

I remember when I was too young, too hurt to think I could get better than what I had. I remember believing my worth was set by my disappointments and the people who handed them to me. I remember feeling a hole in my heart the size of a fist, unsure I could ever find a way to fill it. I remember like it was yesterday, and maybe because it was.

I have yet a long way before touching the rim of my aspirations, but I’m working on it. Still I’m haunted by the belief that some days I’m barely two steps ahead of where I don’t want to be. Often that fear is so great it permeates the air around me, pervading my spirit with the same insecurities that used to easily cloud my vision and steer me into hopelessness. Those are my bad days, the days it takes all of my strength, all of my heart, and a whole lot of faith in myself to remember that it’s not someone’s tragedies that define a person, but her will to survive them.

Each morning I remind myself it’s a new day, another chance to make things right, to make this work and I’ll be damned if I waste any more chances. Ten years ago I found it much harder to look forward instead of back, but I’ve gotten better at it because I’ve learned that a big part of moving on is getting up. Fall down seven times, get up eight.

I don’t want to be the old me, the scared me. I want to be much more. I have to believe I can be. I want to be a better mother, a better wife, a good friend, a loyal sister and daughter. I want my colleagues, classmates, and teachers alike to respect me. I want to be a better writer. I want to be and attain everything I used to think I had no business wanting. Sometimes that means convincing myself the fear of failure shouldn’t stop a person from trying. I know success is never a guarantee, but I’m hoping my efforts count for something.

So sure, I root for myself, less the arrogance and with a touch of humility. Really I think we all should, root for ourselves, that is.  Truth is, if you don’t, how do you expect anyone else to?