I’m ready.

I always wanted to do more.

In my youth, I was filled with curiosity and wonder. I can remember long summer twilights of peace with my family and deep sleep of the adventures the world had in store. I loved creating, dreaming, pretending, and sharing these things with others. But as a circumstance. I was also unequipped to deal with the challenges of the world that would steer my focus away. I loved people. But my need to be accepted would drive me away from being myself. I loved adventure, but was sequestered by loving (and slightly overprotective) parents. I loved creating. But never found myself with the courage to follow through. I loved women. But found a deep lacking in myself, as though I wasn’t enough. I loved dreaming. But lacked the organizational skills to make my dreams a reality.

So I sought alternate paths, shaped not by a channel of addressing these issues, but ways to go around them.

I got better I lying, and hiding, to get people to like me. It never worked. And if it did, they vaguely tolerated the person I was pretending to be.

I got better at sneaking away, losing the trust of my parents and experimenting in unsafe, unguided ways. But it didn’t fulfill me. It only got me surrounded by mentors who pressured me deeper down ineffective paths.

I got better at starting. My life was filled with project heads that never went anywhere and abandoned creations. And I only got better at forgetting.

I got better at daydreaming. I lost myself at school, my grades fell further. And any hope I had of doing the things I wanted to do were lost in my lack of execution and organization.

I still loved women. But my desire to “get” women, only drove me deeper down paths of manipulation and hiding myself. And away from expressing who I was, and how much I loved them.

I searched through every resource material, organizational strategy, self help book, guided meditation, to figure out what was “wrong” with me. And granted, with time and a few good mentors, I picked up pieces. But the rage, abandonment, shame, and outward focus remained in remnants. I had come to a place where I knew what my issues were, and how to deal with most of them but I struggled with imposter syndrome, heavy amounts of shame, and a buried sense of confidence.

Then I got sick. Bad sick.

It was singlehandedly the worst experience of my life. I had grappled with my autoimmune condition for years, but it kicked into overdrive and sent me into a spiral. I looked into the face of death, despair, hopelessness and was confronted with everything I had ever been hiding from. And then slowly, it went away. And what remained was me.

I was unburdened by the layers, like a coat I had put on in my youth. And all the wisdom I had gained in my twenties acted like signposts, and reference points I used to confront the intrusive thoughts I carried with me. My return to health guided me to a deeper love than I had ever felt. I connected fully, planned accordingly, executed without hesitation, and revealed myself slowly but surely, and with no shame, to be the person I had always been.

And then I had the realization that the whole world lay before me and everything I ever wanted, every experience I always wanted to have, was all within reach, and I had the people around me who would love me along the way.

And I realized I was ready.

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