on my story, my ambition...

Yesterday, someone described me as ambitious.

I sat there thinking, "You've got to be kidding me. Ambitious? Me? Neurotic, maybe. Indecisive, definitely. Passionate, usually. But ambitious? Really?"

It's interesting when someone points out something about yourself that you've never actually associated with your personality. But, you know? It made me think a lot about myself. It made me think about how others see me, and how I see myself, and if either views are completely accurate.

Growing up, I was always the sweet, shy girl. Quiet, reserved. Wouldn't hurt a fly. Eager to please, and usually the teacher's favorite due to this. Incredibly sensitive. Classic middle child, thoughtful and easygoing. Creative and a complete dreamer. I thought, Maybe I'll be a nurse, an artist, an astronaut.

I've certainly grown into myself in the last several years. I'm no longer the shy girl. I've learned when to raise my voice, when to stand up for myself and those I love. And I've done a lot in these last several years. Most notably, I moved states away from my friends and family and familiarity. I threw myself into a new adventure and found a new, brave side to my personality. I made a decision to leave a guy I admired and cared for and who was, truly, my first love - and instead, followed the feeling that was drawing me somewhere else completely. Somewhere far away from him. For the first time, I decided not to worry as much about what people would say about this. Sure, I was hurt by what certain people back home said about me and thought of me, but I decided to focus on what life held for me here. Because I knew there was some reason I needed to be at exactly that place, at that exact point in my life.

At the time, I didn't even know what it was, but I knew it was something worth staying for.

I waited it out, working either too many or not enough hours at my job. I sometimes loved it, sometimes hated it. I learned to budget, grocery shop and navigate the Southern California freeways. I made friends, lost friends, and discovered just how much I cherish days completely by myself. I had days where I wondered when I'd have more than $13 in my savings account, and when I'd get insurance in order to afford a yearly check-up at the doctor's office. More and more, I came out of my shell. I went out dancing for the first time, went to a real party for the first time. I learned the difference between infatuation and real attraction. I had a few irrational crushes along the way. I thought, Maybe I'll be an actress, a writer, a princess in a Disneyland parade.

And then? I fell in love.

Swept of my feet, I knew he was the one. I began planning my future with him, starting with the thorn in my side that was wedding planning. Somewhere along the way I decided to leave the comfort of the job I'd been at for the last year, and found myself hired into a new job with a great company. I was proud. I had a great job, a brand new car, a 401K. And soon, I became a wife. I had a new role in life, a shoddy little apartment to decorate and began missing the nearness of my family more than ever. I cooked my first Thanksgiving dinner by myself. I was completely excited as my husband surprised me with the promise of a cat - something that I regretted once I discovered the nightmare of cat litter, cat hair and midnight yowling in a one-bedroom apartment. I strengthened friendships, and learned what it feels like to be betrayed by one. Still, I was in love and was a newlywed; nothing keep me down. I thought, Maybe I'll go back to college, open a store online to sell my crafts, become a runner.

And here I am now.

Married for two years, eight months, to the man who still makes me smile and laugh and, although we have our ups and downs, I know his arms are the only ones I can imagine wrapped around me for the rest of my life. And my life is comfortable. Happily situated in our cozy little duplex. Working at the same place, but filled with dreams for something more. My etsy shop has been up and running for just over a year, and I certainly have dreams of doing even more with it. I've been up and running, quite literally, for quite some time now. I finally found the motivation to take that one last class in order to, hopefully, transfer somewhere and finish my last two years of college. More and more I realize that I'm certainly someone who could be happy simply being a wife and a crafter and doing whatever it is that brings me joy. I realize that wanting these things doesn't make me less ambitious than someone with a masters degree. How is success measured, anyway? I think, Maybe I'll be a mom, a photographer, move back to the Northwest.

I guess that I can look at myself and see some sort of ambition. And although it is a bit surprising, it feels good. Who would've thought? Maybe the quiet, shy, thoughtful little girl has finally found her place.