I was not-so-silently fuming at no one but myself. I’d been here before and felt the cold, dark or dryness of having pushed the ‘grace period’ mentality only to find there was no grace period. I knew better but I insisted and no one was really affected by that recurring obstinance but me. I was furious – at the injustice but mostly just at myself. And then a memory hit me. I remembered another time when one day made all the difference in the world and utterly changed the trajectory of my life forever.

I hate lies now. Like…A LOT. The worst lies, I find, are the ones that I don’t even know I’m telling. Those are the ones that have their root in the deep, dark and murky recesses of my insecurities, past rejections, and the total conviction that if I can’t see them, no one else can either. Until I unceremoniously find out they can.

I realized then that I had continued to hold onto one residual thought; one remnant feeling that was very effective at preventing me from moving forward with any sense of urgency. That residual remnant was this: that there was something to ‘go back’ to.