So after I posted all that blah blah blah about yesterday....

going on and on about how I was feeling like my life, in general, was not where I had hoped it would be by now. After all that wah wah wah woe is me "spoke in the broken wheel" nonsense, something happened. A spark.

I went back to work today, still feeling powerless. And then, in the first 30 minutes, I had two different tables talk to me about the restaurant, ask me for recommendations for something other then which juice to put in their fucking mimosa. As though my opinions about food in particular, were worth asking for, maybe even actually MEANT SOMETHING. Real conversations, not polite chit chat. They literally sought me out, and spoke directly to me. Which sounds like a lttle thing - but it meant something today. And then, it happened. One table asked if I was the owner.

The spark.

I get that question a lot, but today I had the strangest, most primal reaction to it. Usually I would blow it off with a smile and an "oh no !" But not today. Today when they asked I smiled, frozen. "No" (slowly shaking my head) "This isn't my place." And then I stopped, and looked them in the eye in silence, instead of bustling away to another table. I paused, and in that moment, eyes locked, we had an understanding. " 'This' is not my place. But I will........I'll have a place of my own someday." I know, that sounds so Lifetime movie. Sorry.

But see, it wasn't just wishful thinking on my part, that moment of silent understanding. They looked me right back in the eye and that look said it all. Not a challenge - just a simple statement of fact. "Abso-fucking-lutely. You can and you will have your own place. You can do it. You should do it. Don't be scared."

This sounds silly, even to me - and it's my story. If I were you I would stop reading right about now and go check out the next blog on my reader. The following paragraphs are the touching essay portion of the blog. Gag.

All I can tell you is that I am getting closer to not being so god damned scared. Scared to take a risk. Scared to take a step. Scared to be the person I thought I would be by now. This is not me. This is not where I want to be for the rest of my life. I am so angry at myself for not doing more. Not trying harder. Not having dreams, and not chasing them. For staying safe and comfortable and sheltered. For not taking risks, or believing in myself. I have to get that fire in me. I would say I have to get that fire re-lit, but honestly, I don't know if the fire was ever there to begin with. The only clear goal I ever laid out was to have children and maybe marry a nice guy (the two are not connected, necessarily. Kids were mandatory.....guy was a bonus.) So I did it. I got them. And I am so in love with my husband and my children.....but not with myself, so much. Was that it? The only true goal? Am I done? I shouldn't have just stopped there - because yes, they are wonderful gifts and an essential part of me. And I should give them more. I have to show my kids and my husband the real me who is buried so deep down inside that they might not even recognize her.

I hope I can find her in there. I hope she hasn't given up. I hope she's ready to go.