Growing up, my mother always told me I was special. That one day I would do big things. My dad took every opportunity he could to tell me I made him proud. When I was 12 years old, my pastor told me that one day God would use me even bigger than I could imagine. I think that most American kids grow up with some sort of encouragement in that way. We are taught that we are unique, to follow our dreams, that one day we will go somewhere incredible and do something magnificent. But I remember sometimes thinking: “What if I don’t? What if I can’t do those big things that I’m supposed to do?”
I have distant memories of hiding in our corn field as a six year old when I was deciding if I was going to sneak and do something naughty. I remember the pressure in high school to be the perfect little christian girl, as to not disappoint my parents, teachers and peers who, I felt, expected as much out of me. Inside, I was so scared to let down the people I loved, and even the people I didn’t. As I was thinking about how I wanted to start my story, I realized that I’ve been very wrong for many years. Those people really didn’t care if I was perfect. They didn’t really expect me to save the world. I did. I put these expectations and pressures on myself.
I am still a people pleaser, to the enth degree. But I have finally realized that I don’t have to go somewhere incredible to do something great. I feel like my life is pretty normal. Un-Spectacular in every way. But for some reason, I have the desire to share my life in this cute little blog. So I’ll start at the very beginning. I’ve heard that’s a very good place to start.
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