I sat there in a stall in the men's room: the only place on the planet where nobody else would join me; the only place where the filth on the floor made me feel at home. Was that the best I could have done? Regardless, that was the best I did. What does that say about me? My head in my hands, no tears, just pure disappointment. Had I only started sooner. Had I only worked harder.
I had disappointed some of the most inspiring people I had ever met. Some of the people I cared most about at that moment. People invested in me and I let them down.
That was the worst moment of my life.
Every day I get a choice. Am I busy? of course. Am I tired? ...still. Am I depressed? sometimes.
Do I still get my choice? Absolutely.
Every day I get a choice, whether I am going to be the best I can possibly be on that day or not. That is the choice. Every morning, from the moment my alarm clock rings I toe the line of another day. This day brings a new challenge, but as I toe this line I am offered the same choice I was yesterday. Do I choose to be the best I possibly can, or do I choose to be the other?
It's that simple too. There is no middle ground. Not for me, at least. If I choose to be anything less than the best that I can be, I am choosing mediocrity, and that is the biggest let down I can give to myself and everyone around me.
The week before I sat in that stall I had plenty of times to make a better choice. The month before... the year before. I came up short because I chose to.
I never want to sit there again and see the filth on the floor as my equal.
Monday I choose.
Tuesday I choose.
Wednesday I choose,
Thursday I choose.
Friday I choose.
Saturday I choose.
Sunday I choose.
That storm is past. Bring on the next.
Glad you choose to pick yourself up and learn from your mistakes!
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