Or, more accurately, a series of post-it notes I wrote to myself while in a self doubting spot at work. I want to be a writer. I’m going to be a writer. I am a writer. I am enough.
You have not gone far enough to give up. You haven’t dug your heels into concrete. Your shoes are still intact, you haven’t drawn blood. You have not reached a point to shrug your shoulders and say “well, I tried”.
You have yet to feel the satisfaction of a project moved to completion, you don’t know what it’s like. You want it, but will you fight?
You assume you have reached a place where things cannot possibly get worse. You’re wrong, and they can, but things can get better, too. That’s all up to you.
Now go put books away, dummy. You’re fine.
Woolgathering 
Good one Honey. I’ve never read a Health book. Every book has a different way to cure what your problem at the time. So, because of the Genius I am, I go online to Mayo Clinic instead!
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HAHA. You know they’re just gonna tell me I have cancer
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