But...where's my dish?

Growing up, there was one narrative that guided me through life. It had been taught to me by my family and was passed down from generation to generation.

Can you guess what it was?

The narrative was that if you work hard, get good grades, go to college, and get a good job, then you'll be happy, successful, and set for life.

So I followed the recipe this narrative laid out for me to the T, with exact measurements. No heaping spoonfuls here!

Yet, in 2018, as I found myself staring down another day in a toxic workplace, I couldn't help but wonder: "Is this all life has to offer me? Is this it?"

I rechecked the recipe and went down each ingredient to verify I had completed them.

I had.

But when I finally got the courage to leave that job, I found myself without a dish at the end.

That moment, when I realized no dish was coming, was one of the hardest in my life. In all honesty, it shook to my core.

Fear, panic, anxiety, confusion seeped into every pore of my body as I realized I had run out of instructions to follow, and there was nothing but a blank page staring back at me.

For a while, this page and I had a staring contest where neither of us would give an inch.

And nothing changed.

It wasn't until I decided to pick up a pen and start writing my own recipe for my life that I began to understand the power this page held.

I didn't have to live my life following someone else's way. I could create my own. I could live life the nontraditional way.

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