“Why are you here?”
We stood in a large, 150-person circle that bordered the walls of the concert venue-turned daytime writers workshop. We had gone through a group ice breaker where we revealed unique parts of our identities, like “I’m a small business owner,” or “I’m queer with a religious background,” to “I’ve lost my mother”.

I remember all the dreams swelling in me. A mixture of anxiety and anticipation of potential. The sheer opportunity to build something right from the dirt. My heart raced and I wondered if the anxiety I felt was an omen.

The first time I realized I might not be cut out to run the chocolate cafe I had just launched was behind the cocktail bar during service, reaching for a liquor bottle when my sleeve, long and gapingly oversized, caught onto the bottle and nearly flipped the liquor onto the floor.

I’m 13+ months out from giving birth to my first child. The other day, I stretched my legs a little too hard thinking, “why is this leg not stretching further,” so I pushed my knee a liiittle bit straighter and POP! I reinjured my left hamstring …