I’m probably best described as ‘relentless’, and I love this about myself.

I love my drive. I love my tenacity. I love that I am able to grit my teeth, re-centre myself and get on with things after I make a mistake. I love that I am getting better at this, that I am becoming more open to and accepting of ‘failure’, and how my world is shifting, changing and opening up for me as a result.
I love that I endeavour to be hyper-focused, disciplined and intentional with the way in which I live my life. More than anything else, I just love life — pure and simple.
It’s a blessing. It’s also a fantastic adventure.
There is a ‘but’ to this, of course.
The ‘but’ is that, for better or worse, like all of us, I am also a human being.
I get tired. I get sad. I get scared. I get sick.
I am not, and my life will never be, ‘perfect’ — at least not in relation to a fantasy I’ve constructed in my mind.
But I don’t want [it] to be.
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