Finding my own way

I’ll be the first to admit I’m lost. I always have been.


Ever since I was a little kid I have wanted to be too many things. I’ve never been one to know my path. I always wished I could’ve been a kid who was obsessed with one thing like helping people so I would become a doctor or a kid who built things so I could be an engineer. But I’m not.

I want to be everything. I wanna be an astronaut, jet pilot, a deep sea diver, a scientist, an artist, a sculptor, a decorator, a martial arts guru, a translator for the United Nations, a revolutionary, and of course a cowboy.
Unfortunately I’m not any of those things.
I’m a mom and a wanna be writer. Granted, yes, I write but that doesn’t mean I’m a writer. If no one reads what I write then what am I? A child still playing at parts?

Playing at parts is why I believe I’m good at writing. Empathy and perspective are key pieces to all writers. People come up to me all the time and start telling me random intimate things about their lives. I used to think that it meant I should be a psychologist but now I believe it means I should be a writer. So many insights can’t be bad.

Now if I could only find the right road to travel. Following everyone else’s path isn’t really working. Maybe I’m not far enough along in my journey and I’m just being impatient. Or maybe I truly am lost and I should be finding a different way. I wish now more than anything that I was someone who knew what they were supposed to be doing.