When I was a young teenage, I told my mom that I wanted to be a journalist or something to do with writing. My mother said to me that I could not do this because my English was weak, and I would not be able to succeed in what I wanted to do. She told me that I would be better at working with children. See, I have a learning disability, Math and English do not come to me very easy.
So I did what my mom told me I would be better at, I did and still do love working with children. I went off to college for ECE, Early Childhood Education. Long story short, I never finished the two-year course. A lot of things happened, which spiralled me into a depression. I spent years working to pay bills, never happy, but at least I had a roof over my head.
When my mom had died, I slipped back into a deeper form of depression. It was hard enough dealing with my regular depression, sinking closer to the desiring death. That was a battle that took a great deal of effort to overcome. Going through all my boxes that I had saved from my high school years and college, I found things that I forgot about in a brown envelope were items that I entered into a writing contest. I laughed when no one was around. See, I had been noticed for my skills, I won, but I never told anyone. My mother’s words ringed in my ears; it stopped me from going after what I love.
The work that I had done was … well, errors were abundant! Yet, to those that read my work, it did not matter; the content was great. After I finished with every single emotion that engulfed my heart, I confided in a friend. If there were going to be anyone that would be brutally honest with me, it would be him. After all, was said and done, he asked me why I did not follow what I wanted to do.
I realize why my mom said what she did; no parent wants to see their baby fail in life. The thing is, pretty much all writers have an editor, they are paid to catch errors. For two and a half years, my friend and better half have been my crouch in this journey. I may never be a great writer like Steven King; I will never own a million-dollar house. But for once, I am thrilled. I love what I am doing, I took the steps needed, surpassed my fears, and I am still dreaming big and happy.
If you have children, do not do what my mom did. Her words were a long time wall that stopped me from following my dreams. Always tell your children that no matter what, you will be there for them. Even if you think they will fail; failure is what we learn from, success is not measured by the dollar bills in your bank account, it is your happiness and fulfillment.

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