The new year isn’t my blank slate, and Monday doesn’t define my new week; my soul is refreshed every day that ends with “y.” New beginnings aren’t assumed by a new name, a new baby, or a new relationship. My name joins me. My child joins me. My relationship joins me.
I choose where to begin, and I choose when to end. I decide who, what, where, why, how. I don’t live by your rules, his rules, or her rules. I don’t have limitations except those I set for myself, and I decide how to overcome, and then I become limitless. This is my journey, my class, my lecture, my space, my mind, my world.
I don’t follow the gilded path; I erect my own trail, and follow it until I discover soil with the tilth suitable for sowing my ambitions. I grow my own, because yours aren’t good enough for me. Grow your own, because mine aren’t good enough for you.
You might question me. Why do I climb the mountain when I could walk around it? You might be searching for the meadow behind, and I’m searching for the peak above. Why do I wash my hair in the rain when I could take a shower? You may crave the steady flow, but I covet the fickle drops. But I ask, why do you question me at all?
I choose to be a mother, a wife, a sister, a daughter. I choose to label myself, and I choose to define them in my own way. Above all else, I choose me. Every day, I pick me. I challenge myself to become better for me, and this makes me better for them. Don’t ask me who they are.
It’s never too soon to be who you are.
It’s never too late to be who you are.