So, let go. Jump in. Oh, well. What are you waiting for?

Ahh...so this is what all of the excitement is about. This is pretty cool, actually.

For free, you can invite the world to read your inner most thoughts (ok, maybe just an occasional page or two of your diary?) and if you say something witty or clever they might reward you with comments back. It's almost the intellectual equivalent to the-free-lollipop-from-the-bank-teller feeling you knew as a kid. Only sweeter.

Now that I think about it, maybe the word 'journal' would be better than the word 'diary'. When I think of the word diary all I can picture is a bunch of sixth-grade girls with side pony tails in scrunchees in someone's rec room blowing bubbles with Watermelon Hubba Bubba and writing things down way too s-l-o-w-l-y, in pristine script, in their (sigh) 'diaries'. I am also quietly taunted by the memory of my own diary that I had as a kid--it was of the Lisa Frank variety so it was that swirly pink and purple with unicorns and pandas on it and it came with stickers and a special pen. It also came with a key, a key that I promptly lost just three days after I received it. Totally locked out from my own secrets. There has to be a metaphor in this.
Yeah, that was the first and last diary I ever had.

Let's be safe and just say 'journal'.

So, anyway, I want you to know that I've gone and done it. And, really? Well, it's all your fault. You know how impressionable I am. And well, you left me with no other option. You. You with your bright and sunny disposition, your great job, and your peace of mind in regards to your future. You, who are the walking poster child for 'settled' and the 'after' to my fumbling, life-long 'before'. Yeah, I've just about had it with you.

Ok. Not really. I was just being bitter. I actually want to be just like you.

And that is why I quit my job.

I could bore you with the who, the where and the how but no one really cares about all of that. I'd much rather talk about the why.

In short, I was tired of being afraid. Of life. Of love. Of success. Of failure.
Of just about everything.

And while a good job can paint your world in bright colors, a bad one can paint it all gray. I was tired of living my life in grayscale.

So I quit my job, took a trip to Paris by myself, moved into a new place, and finally made writing (my passion) the main focus of my professional life.

Yeah, I was an 'all or nothing' sort of girl on this one.

My life up until this point: Things were ok. I wasn't miserable. And I wasn't happy. I was just haplessly in between. I had a job, in Boston, where I doled out advice to college kids as an academic advisor at a large private college. I was the go-to girl for what to take, who to talk to, and how to graduate. I was kind of like the Dr. Phil to college kids. More than once I even found myself saying, "What are you doing?" to kids on the verge of failing out. I oversaw 1,000 students by myself and counseled students at a critical point in their lives. A large part of me liked the idea of serving the greater good. There was something very admirable and selfless and "pay-it-forward" about it. And I'd like to say that I really liked my job. I'd like to.

But I didn't.
I hated it.

It was a mix of things. But the main crux, the heart of the matter, was that I felt like a bit of a fraud. There I was telling all of my students to go for it and reach for whatever they wanted in life, making sure they knew that anything was possible. But I was doing the absolute opposite. I was biding my time, playing it safe, waiting, afraid to upset the status quo of my sad (but safe) existence. I wanted to be a professional writer. And I was by no means going for it.

Then, one morning in June, a nice blue-sky, sunshiney morning at that, I woke up and felt different. It wasn't like I had an epiphany. It was more like a gradual build that had culminated that day. Life and I had just come to a better understanding of one another. I would take a leap and trust that things would work out ok. Life would reward me with a bounty of possibilities. But I had to take the leap first.

Later that day I was scheduled to meet with my supervisor in regards to the upcoming school year. She asked me what I wanted to work on. I politely resigned. Talk about a leap.

For those of you who really know me, you know I have always been someone who weighs things carefully. I am predictable. I am contemplative. I ponder. I basically take forever to make a decision.

So just going for it and being fearless has never been a strong point for me. Once, while in college, I went on a retreat that had an "Outward Bound" sort of theme. The whole deal was letting go of your fear and just going for it. There was a whole obstacle course, too. One part of it was called the "Pamper Pole". It was a telephone pole with a small disk affixed to the top of it that wobbled. The challenge was to climb the pole (while being harnessed in from the back) and make it to the top. Once at the top, you needed to step up and stand on the wobbly disk, carefully turn around and then jump off toward a target. But it was physically impossible to stand up on the disk without letting go of the pole first.

I struggled with this part. I really felt like I was going to poop my pants (thus the name, "Pamper Pole"). I had flown up the pole, egged on by my friends. But once I reached the top, I couldn't find the nerve to let go and stand up. I couldn't let go of my fear: of falling and of failing. While others were up and off in a few minutes, I must have been hesitating and sweating and nervously standing at the top of the pole, unable to let go and stand up, for at least half an hour. Then after a lot of deep breaths, I finally did let go. I finally did stand up. I wobbled around with my heart in my throat. And then I jumped off the pole.

The rest of that day, I felt absolutely invincible. Though the journey was very scary, the pay-off, the leap and what came afterwards, made it all worthwhile.

So that morning, when I realized I wanted to stop being so scared and strive for more, I started climbing another pole, of sorts. I got to the top and realized I wanted to start letting go of my fears about the future. I wanted to stand up even though I was wobbling and unsure of whether I could stand on my own or not. And I wanted to turn around to see what else was possible.
I wanted to leap into the unknown.
The leap went ok. I'll let you know about the landing.