At sixteen, my greatest fear was that of being ordinary. If you had asked me, I doubt I could have told you that. I was not so self aware. I was too busy mapping out my future. At sixteen, I would have said that by now, I'd be facing my firstie (senior) year at West Point. Had you told me that instead I'd be a waitress who had failed out of her residential high school, lost a scholarship to a state university and was taking classes at a community college, I would have nearly spit in your face. I would have told you that you didn't know a thing about me.
And yet, here I am. And once again I'm facing the fear of being ordinary. Because, as arrogant as I know it sounds, I can do just about anything I decide I want to do. I have the ability to do great things. I'm on the right track to becoming a Cracker Barrel manager, though I tell people I'm going to school to be a teacher. My latest daydream has been about FBI profiling. The first two possible futures frighten me.
I grew up knowing no boundaries. At the age of nine, I had already wanted to be the first female president, a 4-star general in the Army, and a Supreme Court Justice. I wanted to make an impact on the world. And in a big way. I was destined for greatness. I was fourteen attending a brunch with my mom and a bunch of Army wives. Afterwards, we introduced ourselves to the motivational speaker of the morning. He shook my hand, looked me in the eye, turned to my mom and told her, "she's going to be someone some day." This was no surprise to me. But it felt good to have someone acknowledge it. I already knew I was going to be somebody. But right now I'm no one. Not the kind of somebody I thought I'd be.
I'm a waitress. I know how to do my job well. I'm entrusted to train new employees. I have a high standard for myself in the work place. I am respected for being willing to help others. Frequently, I am praised for doing a good job. In my place of work, I am something of a somebody. But I am still a waitress. That scares me.
I view this resurfaced fear as a good thing. I think it indicates that I am once again aware of my potential. And while I find this exciting and think it great progress, it walks hand-in-hand with a new fear. I foresee changes coming, a rediscovery of self, an awakening of ambition, a new era of dreaming. And what I fear most now, is whether I will leave behind the things I now hold dear.
But that is for another time.
