Today I embark on a new journey. I spoke to my mother a lot about taking control of my life. It was something she supported vehemently. It was something I believe she wanted to see. But I waited too long.
I always planned that I would someday throw in the towel and try to make a living by freelancing. I have always dreamed of writing. I relish the investigation, the construction of a well-researched piece. I love to spit my thoughts on a page and take my time, reading over and over again, changing sentences, chopping words, swapping paragraphs, until I’m 100% certain that it’s the best it can be.
My mum always believed that I could make a living out of writing. She urged me to take the chance. To resign from my 9-5 job. To set my home up as my tranquil domain where I could sit peacefully and write.
I always planned that when I grew up I would be my own boss, floating between my parents’ house, the local coffee shop, picnic blankets in the park, restaurants overlooking the beach and my own serene study. The thing is, I always planned to have my mum by my side. I always planned to pick up the phone and tell my mother where I was going to be that particular day, demanding that she meet me for coffee so that between typing, sips and bites, we could gossip the day away.
I know she’s proud of me for taking this step. I believe there was a moment when something in my heart clicked and insisted that I make the decision. I believe it was my mother pushing me in the right direction.
I have faith that I’ll succeed.
Because I know she’s right next to me as I sip my coffee and bite into my toast. I know she’s right next to me as I type these very words. I know she’s right next to me, guiding me along on this very scary but exhilarating path.
I have no choice but to succeed.
I made my mother a promise and what my mother wants, she gets.