In the year of our Lord, nineteen hundred and seventy-seven, a fragile, premature baby came into the world in a small town far from the spotlight. Weighing barely enough to be called a fighter, I entered life with odds stacked heavily against me.
According to my parents — I shouldn’t be here.
Fast forward a couple of decades. I’m riding a moped through another local town, enjoying the rhythm of life when — out of nowhere — a driver plows right through me. Despite my size, I flew like a ragdoll. It was only by sheer grace, and maybe a good set of biker leathers, that I walked away from that crash with my bones intact.
Again, I shouldn’t be here.
Then just last year, a driver four times over the legal limit slammed into me while I was stopped at a red light. But by habit or instinct, I had positioned myself in such a way that the impact didn’t steal more than it already tried to. Once again — somehow, some way — I’m still standing.
By all logic and reason, I shouldn’t be here.
And yet… here I am.
I’ve had more close calls than I care to count. More than a cat, some might say. But each one of those moments left behind something greater than just bruises — they left perspective.
You see, I’ve struggled with doubt. The feeling that I’m never quite enough. The sense that one mistake, one shortcoming, one stumble makes me unworthy of something better.
Like many, I carry a quiet weight. I overthink. I judge myself far more than anyone else ever could.
At heart, I’m a bit of an introvert — or, more accurately, an ambivert. I love people, but I find my soul restored in silence. Give me a good book, a quiet room, and a chance to get a little smarter today than I was yesterday, and I’ll show you peace.
Now I step into a new season. I’ve committed to completing my double-concentration bachelor’s degree. I’ve dusted off the guitar and ukulele — both long-neglected symbols of my desire for artistic freedom. And though I still joke that my partner won’t let me learn the bagpipes (a true Scottish tragedy), I’m finally leaning in to becoming who I’ve always hoped to be.
So what’s the point of all this?
The point is: if you’ve ever felt like giving up… don’t.
If you’ve ever questioned your worth or purpose… you’re not alone.
If you’ve ever whispered to yourself that you “shouldn’t be here”… maybe, just maybe, you’re here for a reason.
So chase the things that light your fire. Pursue the dreams that feel too far. Learn the song. Read the book. Take the class. Tell someone you love them. Laugh until your ribs hurt. Cry when you need to. Heal. Grow. Repeat.
Because even when life tries to count you out — again and again — you’re still here.
And friend, that means your story’s not done yet.
TMDPB - The Modern Day Parables Blog 