Mom likes dropping knowledge bombs, especially first thing in the morning when I haven’t even had coffee yet, and my brain is still sleep-drunk from the night before. I never use to listen to them because it’s my mom; she’s been chipping in her two cents since I came into this world. Moms are good at letting us know where they stand at all costs from your current girlfriend to your job to your weight gain or loss. In my case, I lost 20 pounds living in NYC my first year, and mom told me I was too skinny and needed to eat. You have to love those Irish-Italian mothers.
One morning while I was home from Christmas break, I was able to grab the coffee before my mom engaged me in conversation. We started talking about life and the transition I am currently experiencing. For years, I worked on writing, doing it for myself and then for others. My dream was always to be a full-time writer. I could create whatever wanted, help people tell their story and share it the way it's supposed to be. I experienced a lot of challenges, far too many in my opinion, but I finally was able to make my dream happen for me. I told my mom I was writing full-time but still felt like I had been struggling in life somehow. I told her that now I have what I wanted it, I still didn’t feel like I was finally living the dream I set out for myself.
She poured me some coffee and immediately pulled out something from the old memory bank
“Every time you would run track, Michael you would always start out real fast, you blew by everyone. Then in the last meters of the race, you would slow down, just straight up quit. You never finished how you started.”
At that moment, I thought about the years of my childhood where I shot myself in the foot regularly or never finished what I started. There were sports, studying for tests. There were the intricate lego towers I built that I never finished, the books I started that I put down, the creative projects I wanted to do with my friends that I never saw through.
Almost everything I did from the time I was a child ended up incomplete.
I had become my worst enemy. No one else to blame for the incomplete projects except me.
Mom left the kitchen, and that’s when I stopped shooting myself in the foot. It’s only been a couple of days since I decided that no longer, could I overthink how something was going to go. I needed to lead with my heart because that’s what started my love for sports, for books, and for legos.
To deny my love of something would be denying myself a full and complete life.