Dammit Mom. You were right.

“You are an entrepreneur,” a wise business coach cautioned as I transitioned into a new role as an employee.

“Stay humble and kind,” a one-time direct report, long-time friend advised as I charted off in pursuit of power and glory.

“So this is it.  Our country girl is moving to the city and I’ll never see you again,” my maternal grandfather predicted from a hospital bed as I said goodbye. Distance and illness made this our last conversation.

“I wouldn’t have stayed without you here,” a loyal, ridiculously talented employee proclaimed as I headed out the door.

“We don’t do things like that here,” an ego-driven exec’s declaration echoed as I second guessed my intuition.

“Leap, and leap again. Extraordinary.” a highly worshiped, brilliant thought leader commented as self-doubt consumed me upon shipping.

“You write well.  It’s a gift you should explore.” a communications professor offered just before I dropped out of the course.

“I understand you have a full plate of other people’s needs but I challenge you on losing sight of your own dreams,” a supportive peer once questioned days before my temporary hiatus of my professional aspirations.

“You’re the prettiest girl this side of the Mississippi.” my paternal grandpa would repeat each time this chubby, impressionable child would enter the room full of physical and mental awkwardness from ages 7-10.

“So”, “Fucking”, “Proud”, “of YOU”, a dear cheerleader and brilliant confidante explained in a series of encouraging emails as my mind raced with anxiety and uncertainty.

“Stop being so stubborn and listen,” my mom warned me at an early age.

Dammit, Mom.  I should have listened sooner.

mom

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