Someone I Could Trust

I couldn’t leave the house. I sat at the computer most of the day. I ate too much. I had anxiety, no job, and no friends to speak of. What I did have was a list of hobbies I hid inside: magic, mentalism, coding, juggling up to seven balls at once, writing, some music, reading, blogs, poetry, art. None of that time was wasted. But while I built all of it, the room got messy, meals got skipped or overdone, and I stopped looking for work.

That’s when my aunt looked at me and said I needed to grow up. She wasn’t yelling. She was just done waiting.

Her motto was work hard, play hard. She lived it. Honesty, integrity, authenticity—that was the work-hard half. Showing up spur of the moment for a party, a card game, an adventure with no plan attached—that was the play-hard half. She taught me that both halves matter, and that you get knocked down and keep going anyway. I didn’t understand what she meant that day. I understand it now.

About seven years ago I started taking it seriously. There was no single day I can point to. It built slowly.

Now I wake up early, even on weekends. I walk. I joined an accountability group. I joined Toastmasters to learn to think and speak on my feet. I didn’t get lucky. I decided, one piece at a time, to become someone I could trust.

I want to be the person she would be glad to see right now. Someone who looks at a hard problem, knows exactly how hard it is, and does it anyway. Someone who keeps going after getting knocked down, the way she did. I want to take care of myself for as long as I can—into my 90s if I get that far.

Live, grow, love, repeat until there’s no more of it left to do. That’s the job. Back to it.