I once wanted to be a pianist. I talked my mother into taking me to music school, and instead, the whole family would talk me out of it. But I wasn't always stubborn for years. So much so that I dared to leave home at the age of two. Dad worked at the traffic police then. They were looking for me all over town, and I was in a shop on the next street. I was brave, stubborn, and alone. My mother, by the way, found her first gray hair. And no, no, but when she remembers this story, she remembers them too.
ource: pixabay.com.
Unfortunately, the stubbornness, as well as the usual scotch, is not reusable. Each time, gluing and peeling off, all his gift is lost - to combine the necessary. So, with my stubbornness. If it hadn't lost all its power, I would have achieved much more in my life than in my reality.
I sometimes think it's because everybody around me was fighting my stubbornness. At the end of these thoughts, I always feel ashamed and decide to stop shifting the responsibility for my own passivity to others.
Sometimes I justify the fading of stubbornness by the growth of my own laziness. Sometimes with an abundance of fears. In general, I have a rich imagination.
In the end, I graduated from music school but did not become a pianist. Maybe if the teachers hadn't given out their own professional mark every time: "Ksyusha is a very hard-working and diligent girl, but she doesn't have a hearing", I would have been studying at home in full force and my enthusiasm would have been much further away.
I also wanted to be a prosecutor. I loved justice, always defended those who were accused for no reason, always fled to the truth. But at that age, I wasn't able to understand that everyone had their own truth.
By the way, there is a suspicion that this dream was put in my head by my dad, so desperately dreaming of a normal legal career of his daughter. But it didn't work out here either. At the stage of studying history, I yawned more and more often and imagined myself less and less in blue.
When I got on the math-mech, I dreamed of mastering programming at the level of Antohi K. It seemed to me that he can control any language. In fact, I was stupid, quacking and couldn't compare two times in programming. It's true, I couldn't make a ballerina out of an elephant, even if I tried very hard.
Of course, I dreamed of journalism. I was sitting on a couple of mathematical analyses (which was given to me easily, to the great surprise of all the people around me) and I was writing an article on a vital topic in my mind. But my Russian is weak and far from ideal. And everybody always talked about my mathematical state of mind. I wish they had immersed me in the Russian language with my head.
Soon I will be thirty. And I feel like running to this date, I am taken for frying my own unrealized ambitions. They puke in the hot boiling of regrets, or in the icy sorrow.
My inner voice more and more often and louder parried idiotic monologues on the subject that in thirty years it would be good to self-realize, to find a favorite business, to build a cool career or at least to have a dozen kids.
(If you knew for sure that the next one would be a girl...)
But children are only in social networks easily and nicely. In life, as in a fairy tale, it is good, it is very bad.
The first year of my son's life I was so happy that reading the revelations of depressing young mothers, I thought they couldn't see beyond their nose, bothering with their own selfishness. And then we stopped sleeping and maybe I didn't get depressed as a friend, but I got to know chronic fatigue.
Sometimes it seems to me that I still have not got rid of it. Although we've gotten better at sleeping. Just 3-4 wake-ups in one night, no sickness. I don't want to sleep. But the body still can't gain its former momentum.
And the kids are growing, there is a character, manipulation, disobedience, aggressiveness, caprices.
In sum, it turns out that motherhood is such a continuous work on yourself. You learn to look at your actions from the outside, control the words, emotions, bear the burden of responsibility for the life of a little man. But all this is given so naturally and by force as if every day your abilities increase and your endurance stretches. You grow together.
It is thanks to the realization of my own endurance and elasticity on the example of motherhood that I have decided this year to realize my old dream. Not to try and quit, as it happened in my ridiculous attempts in the past. And to plunge and devote the whole year to the development of my dreams. Take away all the gossip and dirty fears. Add the volume of your own stubbornness to the maximum, including diligence and planning. Planning, without which nothing will happen.
As long as I feel a raging desire, as well as an anxiety about "how to do it all". But after prescribing goals, I know that I will ignite a flame of self-confidence and this will build the regime of the whole family into ideal components.