We’re all different, and that’s a good thing

One thing I loved about teaching was having a classroom full of so many different students who all had their own special personalities and creations for their assignments.

It gave me a small glimpse of the magnitude of the unique beauty that spans the world.

I got to spend some time with my sweet niece over the weekend, and I hadn’t seen her in a little while, so we had some catching up to do. She’s a little more than 9 months old now, but she’s still unsure of that whole crawling thing.

I get it. Sometimes you simply have to take your time.

I had brought a birthday present for my sister-in-law, and because wrapping gifts is not my thing, there was plenty of the tissue paper that I had stuffed in the gift bag—and this immediately caught Olivia’s attention. We started trying to get her to crawl toward it, and she would lean and lean and lean and then kind of fall forward but not actually crawl. I tried again later right before I left, and she was so close to crawling, but it just didn’t happen. And then my brother said something that really stuck with me.

It’s going to have to happen on her terms.

And he’s right—Olivia is going to crawl when she’s ready to crawl. I can encourage her and try to entice her with purple tissue paper as much as I want, but I can’t force her to get moving. It’s a decision she has to make on her own.

I think a lot of us are like Olivia in certain ways. I know there have been situations I’ve faced when I was hesitant to do something simply because I wasn’t quite ready yet. I let it happen on my own terms. I’ve mentioned quite a few times before that I used to be really afraid to let guys know when I had feelings for them. I feel like I’m a lot bolder in that area than I used to be, but it took a really long time for that to happen. Like little Olivia, back then I needed more time before I was sure taking such a huge leap was a good idea.

We’re all so different, and that’s not a bad thing. There are more than 7 billion people in this world—more than 7 billion unique personalities and hearts that need genuine love. And sometimes things have to happen in our lives on our own terms rather than those of the people around us or those that are considered the norm by most of society.

I didn’t have my first kiss until I was 27 (that’s another story in itself), which I realize seems pretty late in life for something like that to happen. But, as you know, I’ve never actually been in a relationship or really dated anyone, so it’s not like the kissing opportunities were abundant. I still needed it to happen on my own terms, though. I had just poured my heart out to a guy I really cared about, and he kissed me. Obviously it didn’t end up working out, which hurt for a while, but that’s alright—it’s another chapter in the story that’s unique to me.

And you have your own unique story, too.

Four people who probably all learned to crawl at different points in life (P.S. I LOVE this family.)

God has different plans for all of us, and your story isn’t going to look like mine or your best friend’s or that seemingly perfect celebrity or any of those other 7+ billion people out there. It’s going to be yours, and it’s going to be special. For me, I want my terms to be His terms, because then I know it’s right.

I’ve had to remind myself of that a lot lately. If you had talked to me when I was a teenager or in college or even fresh out of college, I would have told you that I’d definitely be married by the time I was 30. I’m 32, and that’s not the case. With most of the people around me in serious relationships or married or already with families, it’s easy to start to feel like I’m so far behind. But then I remember that I’m not like all of my friends and family members. For some reason, I’m supposed to be in this stage right now until, if ever at all, I’m ready to be in a different one.

I think we all go through different times in life when we feel like we’re crawling or barely crawling or maybe not even moving at all. We’re reaching for so many things that seem so far, and it almost feels hopeless that we’ll ever actually get there. It’s during these times that I start singing one of my all-time favorite songs: Wilson Phillips’ “Hold On.” If you can hold on for one more day—and maybe you have to retell yourself that multiple days in a row—then things will eventually get better. You’ll reach the point when that barely crawl turns into a real crawl, which turns into a walk, which turns into dancing or running or soaring or whatever makes you feel brave.

I’ll be ready to cheer for sweet Olivia whenever she’s ready to crawl and walk and talk and do all of the other growing-up things babies do. And I’ll let them all happen on her terms as she continues to live out her own beautiful story, and I’ll appreciate her for simply being her.

Because we all need love and grace for just showing up and taking on each day.

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Whitney Houston wanted to dance with somebody, too

It’s not always easy to reflect upon the journey that’s gotten you to where you are.

Especially when your life is nothing like you thought it would be.

This past weekend marked exactly 10 years since I graduated college, and that made me feel really old. It was one thing when I had my high school reunion four years ago, but this took on an entirely new level of adulthood. I started thinking about the career path my life has taken since I entered the big kid world in 2007—from sports reporter to teacher to senior writer at a financial services firm—and then I couldn’t help but also think about the nonexistent dating path my life has taken.

And, of course, all of these thoughts piled up right as I was about to attend a wedding by myself.

There’s something about a wedding that can be tough on the single folk. Sure, it’s a beautiful day of celebrating the love of two people beginning a lifetime journey together, and you’re absolutely happy for them, but it’s also a reminder that you don’t have that and might never have that one person who picks you out of everybody else in this entire world.

And that can often feel like a dagger to an already hurting heart.

This particular wedding was a little harder than others. The last wedding I went to was my sister’s in the fall, and it truly was such a wonderful day. It made my heart soar to see my sister so in love and so happy to be marrying the man we’d always hoped she’d find. I was surrounded by my family—the people I love most in this world—and my heart felt so full. For the most part, I even managed to brush aside the thoughts that the guy who was supposed to go with me to that wedding had changed his mind and told me (in a text, of course) that he didn’t think it was a good idea.

But I didn’t have my family with me at this one to help remind me of what love really is and what it really does.

Post-wedding fatigue set in.

When the usher took my arm to seat me, he asked me how many people were here with me. I said I was the only one, and he managed to find me a lone seat right on the end of a row. I chatted a bit with the people near me and looked around to discover that I didn’t see many people I know. After the ceremony, I escaped to the restroom before heading to the reception, and I even considered bolting right then so as to avoid being surrounded by so many couples. But then I remembered that this night wasn’t about me, and I needed to be there for my friend and her new husband.

I ran into a family I know, and I asked if I could tag along with them. There actually wasn’t enough room for me at the table where they were sitting, so I went to another to ask if there were any open seats. Big shocker: There weren’t. A sweet new friend sitting at the family’s table called my name and said we could pull up a seat, and she snagged a chair for me.

This is why we need people, people—to help remind us that we’re not alone.

A little bit into the ceremony, I again considered leaving. Then I remembered that I love to dance, and I should never let my solo status keep me from dancing. Ever.

When Whitney Houston’s “I Wanna Dance with Somebody” started playing, it hit me: This is why it’s been so tough lately. I really do want somebody who loves me to dance with me. I want somebody who picks me out of everyone else in the world. I want somebody who cares when I’m hurt and tries to make me laugh when I’m upset. I want somebody who appreciates my quirks. I want somebody to want to love me and want to be loved by me. And, just like my homegirl, I want somebody who’ll take a chance on a love that burns hot enough to last.

I don’t know if that will actually happen, but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with admitting that it’s something I hope for in my life.

Maybe you’ve already found your person. Maybe you’re still waiting or searching. Maybe you’re not and are content. Regardless, I think it’s important never to miss out on the opportunities you have before you simply because you might have to do them on your own. Life really does go by so quickly, and there are only so many chances to seize moments right in the midst of them and live a life of passion without caring what other people think of you.

So if you want to dance, for the love, get out there and dance.

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Because par doesn’t always happen

Sometimes life has a way of kicking your tail and reminding you that you need to slow down and take things one step at a time.

And sometimes it happen when a bunch of things hit you all at once.

I played golf for the first time in years over the weekend—and I do mean years. I had told some guys at work that I was the two-time city league champ back in the day, which is true, but I was in the second and third grades when I won those tourneys. And I was the only girl who showed up, so I sort of won by default both years.

You know that saying, “It’s like riding a bike”? I don’t believe golf is like that—at all.

Let’s pretend this was a phenomenal shot.

I think my rustiness was a bit apparent in my re-debut round of golf. Because of the residual effects of my kidney surgery and the ensuing kidney infection, I was only able to make it nine holes, but that duration was plenty.

And it was definitely enough to provide me a few reminders I really needed.

Golf is a game of patience. It’s not like running or soccer or basketball or football with people hustling fast and diving and driving and expending everything they can to win. It’s different. It’s much more of a slow-paced game, and there’s often quite a bit of waiting involved—whether you’re waiting on other people or waiting on yourself. It’s not always easy to wait on things, especially when you want them to happen when you want them to happen. But that’s not how life always goes. Sometimes you simply have to be patient and take life one stroke at a time.

Golf is also a game of adapting. You can pick out where you want your ball to go each time you swing, but it’s not always going to land where you plan. There are a lot of factors that affect where each ball ends up, and you can’t necessarily control all of them—or sometimes any of them. So when you find yourself in the sand or behind a tree, you have to change your original game plan and somehow still make it work. I feel like this is the story of my life lately—and probably the story of a lot of people’s lives. We can plan out as much as we want, but it doesn’t mean those plans are for sure going to happen. We could end up in the water or overshooting the greens. We could end up in situations or places in which we never thought we’d find ourselves and that make us feel pretty close to hopeless. But somehow, someway, we still have to make it work. And somehow, someway, we still have to believe that we can.

And golf is a game of humility. You might think you’re doing alright, and then you hit one into a creek. You might feel like you’re about to master the course, and then you whiff the ball on the tee. You might think you’re about to sink a putt, and then you add another stroke because you failed to factor in the curve and the uphill. You might feel like you’ve chosen the right club, and then you don’t even get it on the green. Life in general can be pretty humbling, too. Just when you think you have it all together, something you weren’t expecting gets thrown your way—and you simply have to deal with it.

There are so many different courses out there. There are so many different shots you hit. There are so many different situations you face. There are so many different people surrounding you.

And there are so many different choices you have to make.

You don’t get many mulligans in life—instead, you have to hit the shot as is and never look back at what could have been or should have been. You might do really well on some holes, and you might have others that seem to blow up in your face. You won’t always have good days, and you might want to throw your clubs at certain points. Some holes will break your heart and leave you feeling like the next one isn’t even worth the effort. But you have to keep playing, and you have to keep swinging.

Because, even when you don’t shoot par, you might end up having one of the best rounds you never knew could exist.

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When you have great expectations

One thing I’ve always loved about Michael Jordan is that he had complete confidence in all situations he faced.

He expected to win every single time he stepped out on that court—even when homeboy had the flu.

Last week was the NFL Draft, which is a time when a lot of expectations are put on a lot of young men. Myles Garrett, the top pick out of Texas A&M, was taken by the Browns, and that top spot is full of great expectations. When you’re the No. 1 pick in the NFL Draft, you’re the No. 1 pick for a reason: People expect great things out of you.

But what if you don’t live up to them?

Sure, there have been some No. 1 picks who have been pretty incredible. You might recognize names like Earl Campbell, Bo Jackson, Troy Aikman, and Peyton Manning—a handful of players who continued to live up to the hype around them. But then there have been some top picks who have been real busts. Does anyone remember Ryan Leaf, who was the No. 2 pick right after Manning in 1998? Not the Chargers’ best decision. Then there’s Alex Smith, who was the top overall pick in 2005 and went to the 49ers, but he did bigger and better things in his college glory days. I could go on, but I’m going to stop here.

The fact of the matter is that draft selections have a lot on their shoulders. I mean, the Cowboys picked a fella named Taco this year with purpose: We expect him to make our defense better.

I don’t think there’s anything wrong with having great expectations in certain situations. However, you do have to be prepared for the possibility that your expectations don’t pan out—and you have to know that it’s OK if that happens.

When I used to play soccer, I expected to score a goal every game. I know that might sound a little ridiculous, but it was something I believed I could do, and so I expected to score or at least do every possible thing I could to try in every single game. And, for the most part, I did that. Yes, there were games when I didn’t get goals, but I wasn’t super let down by that because I knew I had done what I could and that I would have future opportunities to score other goals.

But not all great expectations are as simple.

I expected to be a great dancer, but I never took any dance classes. Lord only knows where I got that outfit.

When I was a little girl and even a teenager, I fully expected my life as an adult would be like all of the fairy tales and romantic comedies I had seen growing up (darn you, Disney and romcom creators). I guess I never really thought I would find myself in my 30s and still doing the single thing. Yet here I am. And, for some reason, this one is harder to accept than not scoring a goal in every soccer game.

There have been times I’ve had crushes on guys and expected absolutely nothing to happen. Then there have been other times when I’ve actually had some hope and expectations—but zilch happened. In those instances, I felt kind of like Rachel in Friends in the episode when she buys that ridiculously expensive cat that she expects will be just like the one she had when she was a kid, but it turns out to be much more of a painful investment than she thought possible.

And, because of her high expectations, she had a great amount of disappointment when they weren’t met.

I was meeting a friend somewhere recently, and while I was waiting, I started chatting with a woman next to me who was scrolling through a dating app. She told me a funny story about a date she had and then mentioned how it was really difficult to meet the right person. I asked her what type of person she was looking for, and then she asked me the same. After we talked for a little bit, she asked me if maybe I thought my expectations were too high for someone to meet. I told her no—I know nobody is perfect, but I think it’s OK to believe someone out there is perfect for me.

And I do think that. At the same time, though, I have to go back to that young girl on the soccer field who thought that scoring a goal was the determinant of success. But it’s not. You don’t grow as a soccer player by getting a goal every game; you grow by pushing yourself through every moment of every game, regardless of the outcome, and putting forth your best effort for all of the other members of your team. It’s great to expect those goals to happen—but it’s even more wonderful to learn how to respond to the moments when they don’t. So I need to be prepared and alright with the idea that nobody is perfect for me, and this single thing is a forever thing.

We certainly aren’t always going to get what we want in life, but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with having great expectations, especially when it comes to the desires of our hearts. And maybe doing so can even help us treat others better: If you expect people to love you the way you are, love them for the individuals they are; if you expect people to care about you, care for others; if you expect people to remind you how much they value you, let those around you know just how valuable they are.

I can’t sit here and say everything I hope for will come true, but I can expect that I’ll end up where I’m meant to be, and it will be good.

So maybe we should all “be like Mike” and not be afraid to have great expectations.

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When you need to let yourself smile

Ever since his Spartan cheerleader days, I’ve loved Will Ferrell, but I didn’t realize how much I would come to admire one of the qualities of one of his most childlike characters.

I’m obviously talking about Buddy the Elf’s passion for smiling.

We’re taught at early ages how to smile. I mean, when you’re a little baby, people are constantly smiling at you, and somewhere along the way, you instinctively start smiling back. Then people stick cameras in your face and use that “say cheese” thing, and the smiles just keep coming. Smiles are outward expressions of joy, and they are truly beautiful.

But sometimes those smiles don’t always come so easily.

I’m not a huge fan of crying, and it’s normally not something I do often—though lately I feel like the tears have been a bit too frequent. For many reasons I won’t delve into at this time, life has been tough lately, and sometimes I have moments when I can’t fight back the tears that start piling up at the brims of my eyes.

Smiling is often the best option.

I had one of those instances recently at work, and I really didn’t want to cry at my desk. My sweet friend Bonnie had texted me to check on me (she knew I was having a bad day), and I told her I was on the verge of tears. She offered to meet me in a bathroom where we wouldn’t see any of our coworkers, and she stood there with me while I let Niagara Falls invade my face, and she listened as I aired my grievances—and God bless her, because I say some pretty ridiculous things when I’m crying.

After a little while, I looked at myself in the mirror and told her I couldn’t go back to work looking like I did. (When I cry, my eyes turn a super deep almost emerald blue color, and my face is SO splotchy.) And then she told me I needed to smile—whether I wanted to look in the mirror and smile or go stand in a bathroom stall and stare at the door, I simply needed to smile for about a minute. She said doing so would make the rest of me start to believe I wasn’t so sad, and I wouldn’t look like I’d been crying as much.

Have you ever tried looking at yourself in the mirror and forcing yourself to smile when it’s the last thing you want to do? It’s so awkward. Thankfully, Bonnie said something to make me laugh, and so the smile actually became real. And she was right, too—I went back to my desk without anyone noticing that I had just ugly cried moments before.

A couple of days later, I was in spin class, and the instructor kept reminding us to smile and that it would help us remember that what we were doing was actually fun. Most of the time when I’m in this type of class, I’m just trying to figure out the whole beat thing. It’s one of those classes in which you ride to the beat of the music, which is not my forte—I’m used to dancing freestyle with zero concern of beat or rhythm. But, I must say, that smiling tactic of his really helped. It turned out to be the most fun class I’ve ever taken.

I suppose I needed one more reminder about the importance of smiling. Joni Eareckson Tada was a guest speaker at church over the weekend, and she mentioned how she makes herself smile every morning before facing the day to help set the right attitude from the start.

I guess smiling is a lot more effective than we think it is.

For years now, I’ve tried to incorporate smiling into my running. I always try to remind myself of my mantra of “one smile per mile,” which truly helps me enjoy running even when it hurts. I do this especially in races, and it really does give me more of a positive perspective about even the most grueling miles. Sure, I probably look like a complete idiot when I’m smiling to no one, but I also get to smile to people in passing, which makes me even happier. Smiling isn’t just good for us—a simple smile truly can lift someone’s spirits more than we’ll ever know.

I realize that smiling can’t get rid of our pain, and it doesn’t make all of our problems go away, but sometimes it somehow helps. Maybe it sends some secret message from our heads to our hearts that says, “Hey, true joy is possible, and don’t you ever forget it.” Life is often difficult, and it’s going to throw stuff our way that we really don’t want, and probably the last thing we will want to do is smile. But when you find those moments when you can choose to put a smile on your face—even if only for a second or two—it really might help. It won’t solve everything, but it can force you to wipe the tears off of your face and march back up to your desk to take on everything else that comes your way that day.

We get to decide how we react to the situations we face. Sure, we’re going to encounter hurts and frustrations and sorrow and anger and stress and pain and regret and bitterness and a countless amount of other negative emotions—but we can’t stay wrapped up in those forever. Eventually, we have to walk away from those with courage that we never knew we had.

And sometimes bravery comes in the form of a smile.

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Encouragement from an Uber driver

Every once in a while, you need a stranger to tell you something to make you really believe it.

And sometimes that stranger is your Uber driver.

I recently met someone for dinner and was ready to leave almost immediately after we sat down. Sure, he is a really nice guy, and I can pretty much talk to a wall if I have to, but I simply didn’t want to be there. My mind was elsewhere, and I wanted to go home.

And of course I had to be the one to say, “I probably should get home soon.”

He asked me if I was sure that I didn’t want to go anywhere else. Yes, I was sure. I had taken an Uber there simply because I didn’t want to deal with the parking in the area, and he suggested that I ride in his Uber and that we could just drop me off first. I suggested “no.”

Thankfully, my Uber driver was practically there, so I didn’t have to wait long before hopping in the car and escaping that evening. That’s when I met Josh, a sage I wasn’t expecting. He asked me how I was doing, and I said I was sort of alright. Then he asked me why.

Josh, you just opened a can of worms, buddy.

I gave him a condensed version of my evening, followed by a very abridged explanation as to why my heart hurts and why I think it shouldn’t anymore. Then I asked him questions, and he told me how he met his girlfriend (whom he’s been dating for almost three years) and how special she is to him. And he told me that there’s a guy out there who thinks the same of me but doesn’t know it yet and that, when I meet him, I’ll know he’s the one.

And even though I had only known Josh for about four minutes, I believed him.

Right before I got out of the car, he turned around to shake my hand and told me it had been a pleasure chatting with me. Then he said, “Just keep the faith, Natalie. That’s the most important thing—you have to have faith.”

That’s a good word, bro.

And sometimes you hang solo.

I don’t know what the future holds. I know that I’m going through some tough stuff that I feel like I should be over by now, and I don’t understand why it still hurts, but it does. Honestly, I sometimes feel ridiculous that my heart doesn’t feel mended, but I can’t seem to change that right now. I have to believe that Josh is right, though: I need to have faith.

Faith that someday it won’t hurt anymore. Faith that things will happen as they should. Faith that I will be fine flying solo forever if that’s how things turn out. Faith that there’s really only One I need, anyway.

Sure, it’s difficult to be single sometimes, but I think I also need to remember how great it can be, too. I mean, there’s a lot of independence gained and a lot of times when you have to learn to be brave in situations when you really want someone there to hold your hand. And I get to choose what to eat for dinner every night and what will be watched on the TV, so that’s a plus.

Life often happens in ways we don’t want, but we still have to face those situations and choose how we respond. I hope I can take Josh’s words to heart and always respond by keeping the faith. Faith gives us hope, and faith is also a huge part of what love is all about.

I hope you’re able to meet someone who gives you hope, or I hope you’re that person who offers it to someone else. It’s nice when we can lift one another up and provide encouragement when it’s needed most.

Because that’s a love that can be shared with everyone.

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When you feel like you’re missing out

I think there are too many times we ask “Why?” in situations when we really should be asking “Why not?”

Especially when it comes to matters of the heart.

Last year, on a whim (and because I had experienced a pretty heartbreaking moment the night before), I bought a 10-game pack of season tickets to the Rangers games with my friend Amanda. Despite the financial setback, it actually turned out to be one of my best decisions of 2016. Our friend Val was part of our game-going crew, too, and we had a blast going to each game. Amanda and I even created a paper chain at work to countdown until Opening Day, and we took daily pictures of us ripping off the links and throwing them to the ground.

Bless those of you who endured that time with us and then celebrated when we finally reached the ballpark on the day for which we’d been waiting for so long.

It was worth it, too. Opening Day that year was one I will always remember for so many reasons, and I must say that I was pretty sad this year when it rolled around, and we weren’t there. I also felt like it snuck up on us—when we had the countdown, it felt like it took forever to get there.

It was a rather dramatic countdown.

I guess that’s how life goes sometimes: You wait and wait and wait for something for so long that it feels like it’s never actually going to happen. But then if you’re not really anticipating it very much, it’s as if it gets there as fast as lightning.

Even though there were times the season seemed ridiculously long, the drive seemed way too far, the nights seemed to last forever (especially the games on work nights), and the heat felt more powerful than ever, I miss being in Section 3. I miss convincing the players in the opposing team’s bullpen to throw gum up to me. I miss seeing Mark and Jeannie, who sat behind us each game. I miss persuading the parking attendants to let us park for free. I miss Dylan the pedicab guy always trying to get us to be lazy and not walk. I miss the grouchy guy who plays the saxophone at the street corner.

And part of me just feels like I’m missing out on so much.

Honestly, it’s probably for the best that we didn’t buy the season tickets this year. Val lives in a different part of the state now, Amanda recently bought a house, and I probably owe the hospital more money than a house purchase. But I’m thankful we did it that one season—now we’ll never have to wonder what it would be like to be season ticket holders, and we made some really great memories that year.

I wish I could say that about every area of my life.

I think there have been a lot of times I’ve missed out on some potentially incredible opportunities simply because I haven’t taken chances. I’ve mentioned many times before that I used to be a pretty big pansy when it came to letting guys know how I felt. There was a guy I cared about many years ago, and I never did anything about it. Whenever I was around him, I pretended that I was comfortable with us being friends and nothing more. You know what happened? Nothing. We stayed friends for a while and eventually drifted apart, and he started new and exciting chapters in his life without me.

More so lately, I’ve tried to be better about ignoring the risk factor in this regard. Even though it recently became a prolonged situation that resulted in a broken heart, I’m glad I wasn’t as silent as I used to be. I guess it’s better to know than always wonder what would have happened if you had taken a chance.

Because you don’t want to miss out on something that could have changed your life for the better.

I’ve currently been feeling like I’ve been missing out on a lot of things—whether it’s racing, spending time with people, the sunshine, or even sleep. But then I realized that I’m perfectly capable of changing my circumstances by being bold enough to take some chances.

No, my running hasn’t been that strong lately (thanks, kidney), but I’m on the mend now and can begin working toward racing again. I have to be willing to step on the line, even if it means it won’t be my fastest race, though.

And I have to take chances with people. It’s not always the easiest thing to do to reach out to people or sacrifice time when you could be doing a million other things so that you can spend time with the people you want around you. You make time for the things you want to make time for in life—and that can often mean taking leaps of faith for the sake of others.

Sometimes when I’m at work, I look outside and feel like I’m missing out on so much sunshine (I LOVE being outside when it’s sunny out). But I get off work when it’s still light out, so there’s plenty of time for me to be able to enjoy the daylight. Lately, I’ve been going on walks after work more regularly so that I can be outside, and doing so has been very refreshing. It sometimes takes me out of my comfort zone because I’m a very busy person, so it’s often challenging to set aside time simply to enjoy disconnecting from everything, putting in my headphones, and taking an extended moment to breathe.

Sleep isn’t something I want to miss out on, but I definitely need more of it. I’ve been making more concerted efforts to get more sleep, but it’s a bit difficult at times. However, I know that if I seize the opportunity to take a nap or go to bed earlier—even if it means missing out on time I could have been doing something productive—it will benefit me in the long run.

I truly believe chances are meant to be taken. I think boldness is for everyone. Why wonder what could have been when you could have listened to your heart and not your head? I think we overthink things sometimes when we really should simply go with our instincts.

Because you don’t want to miss out on something that could have changed your life for the better.

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