Project "I Could Never..."

I don't know about you, but I know for a fact that I can't count the number of times I've said the words "I could never [fill in the blank]." Now, normally, this would not bother me in the least, but recently I have become rather painfully aware of some of my more unattractive deficiencies, one of the most troublesome being that I am very VERY good at stopping myself from doing....well, a lot of things.

For example, my former housemate Kelsey is at this very moment teaching English in Korea. Elizabeth, another former sharer-of-ground-floor-bathroom-ness has uprooted herself for the purpose of planting three years worth of roots in Uganda. My fellow BISPer and Pemberely dweller Sam moved to a completely new city last year to attend Grad school--sight unseen. My favorite Texan does things like running marathons, enrolling in Boot Camp-like fitness programs for the sole purpose of bettering herself, and then, of course, there's the Law School thing. These are things I Could Never Do.

Or could I?

Somehow, (and, in all honesty, I really have no idea how) it came to be that even at the possibility-rich, option-filled, tender young age of I-don't-even-know-how-old I made a crucial decision in my life. I said "I can't." (More than likely the real phrase was "I won't," followed, accompanied, and/or preceded by some waterworks, I have no doubt.) And just like that, the course of my life began to change dramatically with every instance in which I spoke those words. (Okay, maybe not...but go with me here.) Because of course, on some occasions these words absolutely needed to be said (i.e.- Doing long division without a calculator, remembering all the words to "Stairway to Heaven" at the drop of a hat, or running around the dirt track of my elementary school as the same speed as Stevie Wiesner.)

But more often than not, what I really meant to say and did not have the heart or guts or sense of self-worth so to do was, quite simply, "I will not do X." And for me personally, that was usually because I was too scared or embarrassed to take action when passivity and indifference were, at the time, perfectly acceptable alternatives.

And look at everything I missed out on because of it. I never told my high school crush how much I liked him. I never tried out for a play at my school or community theatre or even took an acting class in college because I told myself I had no talent. I stopped writing poetry because I convinced myself that my work wasn't of any real value. I hid in my dorm-room for the vast majority of my time at Whitworth because I was afraid of meeting new people and being rejected and ignored all over again. I never applied to the Grad programs I loved because I am scared to death of the prospect of competitive academia. And I have no one to blame for it but me.


So, (finally,) I have decided to do something about it.

My dear readers, I present to you: Project "I Could Never..."

In reality it is nothing more than a visual reminder and digital incentive for me to challenge the 23 years of assumptions I have made about myself, starting with the goal of crossing off three things this summer that I previously thought I Could Never Do.

The first one will be manifested when I move my curser over the obnoxiously orange button on the bottom of this screen and press the "Publish Post" button. Because, you see, I always thought I Could Never Tell Anyone the things that I regret the most about the way I've lived my life, or the fragile and deeply personal hope I have about changing that.

I freely and heartily invite you to join me on my journey during what will hopefully become known as The Summer of Project "I Could Never." If you want to post your own "Nevers" in comments, facebook messages, e-mails, or even privately for no one but yourself, I encourage you to do so, and hope to keep you up to date about the progress of tackling my personal "Nevers" and hope you'll do the same.

Here's to strength: 
May we gain more with each passing day; 
To wisdom: 
May it be like sugar in our tea (a little goes a long way;) 
And to hope: 
May it flourish like the summer sun that (we hope) has come to stay.

See, I told you my poetry needs work.