The Tortoise and the Hare

What do you do when you have a dream? A great desire? One thing you’ve steadily been fixated on the entirety of your life that now becomes an integral part of your very existence? You become obsessed with your goals and that obsession, regardless of how many times it breaks your heart, you still won’t give up on it. 

What do you do? 

What do you do when your patient side is fighting with the side that wants instant gratification? Who wins? Which side kicks the most ass? Which side becomes the more reliable bet to make? Do you let them both hash it out...do you find common ground...or do you just say ‘fuck it’ and realize they are equally favored? 

I’ve said this before but it bares repeating. I’m in a saturated field. Everyone is a writer. Everyone is a photographer. Everyone has talent...and I’m in the shuffle now. Trying to find a dance move that makes me stand out. 

Part of me wishes I got out of my way a long damn ago but there’s a reason for every season and life never granted me the courage to feel I could ever keep up with my contemporaries. 

Until recently. 

It’s still a battle though because while all those around me are miles ahead, my slow and steady ass just decided to join the race. I could kick myself for this. 

Since quarantine took over the world...since the beginning of 2020...since my December trip overseas, since facing my 40th year of life...something in my life took over. I literally hid out for years and I really (now looking back) can’t understand for the life of me, why? The only answer I can come up with. Self-esteem is an asshole, I guess? 

I’m one of those people who definitely knows their worth and comprehends what I have is precious but how to execute that....to remove myself from my shadow self that is content with me nestled in its safe bosom, has been one arduous task. 

I’m the chicken scratch to my shadow self’s calligraphy. 

Now, I will be the first one to say, “Be patient. Your manifestations will come” but saying and believing are two completely different states of being. I dance with both. Often. 

One part has waited long enough for its time to shine while the other argues that this dance floor is full and I still need that dreaded clock. 

How do you stand out? Especially when you find yourself retreating to the background every time you throw yourself into the forefront. 

Like others, beginning this adventure came from external forces. Specifically, one young Danish dude. Specifically...one New Yorker that seemed to have life start at age 40! 

I’m no celebrity and I’m not fixated on these two but I can’t deny that they didn’t have something to do with peeling the layers back and going for gold. I can’t deny that my husband and his endless encouragement and support had something to do with me telling my shadow self to fuck off with all the self-deprecating rhetoric. 

“You’ll never make it.” 

“This is a pipe dream.” 

“You’re too old.” 

“You don’t have the status, the hook-ups, the connections.” 

“You aren’t good enough.” 

“Stay here...in my shadow...you can’t leave. I won’t let you leave.” 

ALL THE LAMESAUCE LAMENTING THAT ONE GAL CAN HANDLE. 

Put a muzzle on it, bitch. I’ve had enough of you. You’re harshing my vibe and like any negative friend, I have to figure out how to let you go...or at least send your ass away for a long damn time. 

Dear Shadow Self, 

I’ve been patient with you long enough. I’ve come up with every excuse in the book to support your commentary. I’ve played devil’s advocate to your black to my white. I’ve forgiven you every time you took me away from taking that leap. I’ve found reason as a result from your insults. I tried harder or gave up altogether. I stayed faithful. I gave you loyalty in hopes you’d finally believe in me...and it took me all the shit you threw in my direction, miles walked in waist deep crap to resolve to this resolution...you’ve never wanted me to succeed. You were content and happy with my failures because those weaknesses meant you could control and manipulate and I’d safely return to the ruse you’d call a safe space. Tail between my legs, agreeing that you were right. I’d quietly retreat into submission...the spot you felt I’d be my most vulnerable for the attack. An attack you always seemed to win-no matter how big my army was, it never seemed to overthrow your cunning nature. So okay...you can have all those wins. You: a million and one. Me: zero. I will give you the past and its choices and decisions and your ever so prevalent importance. I will give you all of my past self. You can have her. She isn’t who I am at this very moment. Today. This minute. Right now. Tomorrow might be different but right now...right now...I’m ready to take you down and shut you the fuck down. This place you wanted me all along, I’ve outgrown. This cloth doesn’t fit. These shoes are worn and tattered. This life no longer suits me. My sword is sharp. Sharper than its ever been. My resilience taught me to fight. My strength and wisdom gave me strategic moves to counteract the same ones you always make. When you left me out in the rain...I sought shelter. When you left me cold and with no warmth, I used my resourcefulness to knit a sweater and start a fire. I’ve never disappointed you once...but time and time again, you’ve ripped my soul apart. Shattering it and laughing hysterically at the mess you made. A tornado force wind coming in and turning this house upside down. I still see the good in you. I know the lessons were not for nothing. And despite all the wars, you’ve masterfully won...I still came out the victor. Because here I am...it all my fucking glory. Baring beautiful scars caused by you. No longer shamed by the defeat. That wound is a landmark to this greatness...without it...there is no story. No connection to desires and wants and dreams. No reason to work all that much harder. You can’t stop me anymore. You can’t break my heart...I’ve taken my power back! I’ve willingly given it to you and I know this. I blame myself for your unfair hostile take downs. I was never prepared. I figured if I gave you what you wanted, the bully inside of you would stop the bullied inside of me. I was wrong. You’ll never stop...but you no longer get to win. I’m not throwing up the white flag so easily anymore. Come at me, bro! I’m ready and waiting...come and find me. Come. And. Fucking. Find. Me! I’m here and I’m a force to be reckoned with now. Your tired dance moves have made you tired and I see you up ahead...resting under that tree...building a trap to cheat and trip me up. All the years...this coming and going...this repetition...created this warrior. So in a way, I guess I have you to thank. You kept me going...eventually I would beat your ass. Eventually I would prove you wrong. Eventually I would ultimately land here...in sturdier shoes and thicker skin. I know it’s not what you expected to hear but what can I say? I am unpredictable and my unpredictability equals power. A strength no longer being dismissed or disregarded. A great tool...that even shocks me occasionally. Woke, shake, shook. And as one person alluded, “I’m going to kill it.” Yes...I’m going to kill it. You’re done. It’s time for a new Queen. 

~❤️me. 

Sunday Musings: 

“It doesn’t matter if I’m off the beat. It doesn’t matter if I’m snapping to the rhythm. It doesn’t matter if I look like a complete goon when I dance. It is my dance. It is my moment. It is mine. And dance I will. Try and stop me. You’ll probably get kicked in the face.”

~Dan Pearce, Single Dad Laughing 

“Our doubts are traitors, 

and make us lose the good we oft might win, by fearing to attempt.”

~William Shakespeare