Monday is almost over and I’ve still got Mr. Anxious following me around. What do I got on the brain? Bills. Fat. Bills. Fat. Yep, that’s pretty much it. Pathetic right? Transparency is all the rage right? What if transparency makes you feel fat? Is that even a thing? Oh and if that wasn’t enough, how do I convince myself that I am not too old to still succeed in where I find my passion? Am I too late. Did my time of making it expire? My mind tells me Hell No! But my insides are cringing at the thought of being exposed as a old lady trying to be young. An old lady trying to make it. A woman who wasted her life trying to hide suddenly wants to be known. Why now? It’s not a matter of why now, but a question of why not then? To that I have no answer. The real truth is that the struggle is eating me alive. Books, podcasts, motivational figures yelling out to to me that I can do whatever I want, that it’s possible. Who’s hard of learning? This girl, or should I say this old lady is.