Female Marine Hair and Sock Bun

On the list of top questions asked by soon-to-be, female recruits are questions about hair.

Should I cut my hair? How do I do my hair? Do I have to cut my hair? If I cut my hair, what is a good length? How long is too long? Is it easier to have short or long hair?

I'll admit it. I've asked those questions myself.

The answers are as unique as the individuals asking them. There are female Marines who swear that short is best and some that vow longer is better. Some female Marines I have heard from said they were glad their hair was short so they didn't have to fuss with it and others have said they were glad their hair was long so they didn't have to worry about it growing out or getting in their eyes.

I have been battling that question myself and debating whether or not I should cut my hair or grow it out.

While I was debating I let my hair grow deciding that if I chose to grow it out then at least I'd have a head start knowing that I could cut it at any time.

By chance, I wandered into a salon in Michigan where my stylist just happened to have an aunt in the Marine Corps and, after learning that I was joining the Corps this fall, had quite a bit of advice about my hair.

"Grow it long," she said.

She went on to explain that with my wavy, almost curly hair and no opportunity to really style my hair I would end up with unruly waves that would get into my eyes, stick out all over the place and generally be hard to manage without styling products like a blow drier, mousse and a nice round brush.

I had to give it to her. She knew more about my hair in five minutes than I was able to figure out all through high school.

My hair, when short and left to its own devices can take on a frightening life of its own.

She went on to explain that each woman is different. If one has very regular and controlled curls that are predictable or stick straight hair with no wave at all they could easily get away with a short wash-and-go bob that would be hassle free.

For those of us with unruly hair, however, it was easier for us to go with longer hair and tie it back.

She explained about not using too much mousse or gel and perfecting the military sock bun before I even left for Boot Camp so that my hair would be a quick and easy fix and not a source of stress.

I'm happy to say that after five or so times of trying to do a sock bun I finally got it right.

So, in case you are wondering what I did, I'll tell you.

1. My husband donated one of his socks to my cause. I read somewhere that dress socks make the best sock bun socks and so I asked if he would give me one.

I used a tan sock so that it would be as close to my natural color if any sock were to poke through.

2. After cutting off just the toe portion of the sock at the toe seam, I rolled the sock up starting from the toe side and working my way to the ankle side. The reason for this is that the ankle side is more stretchy and will hold the sock together better.

3. With my hair still damp (a recommendation from the hair stylist) I made a low pony-tail and secured that with a scrunchi.

4. Then I placed the sock around my pony-tail.

5. I fanned my hair around the sock using a comb to make sure the sock was evenly covered.

6. Next I used a second scrunchi and placed that over my hair and bun to make the bun look even.

7. I twisted and pinned the excess hair that was sticking out.

Done!

Below is a good video to show the process.



I guess, when it all comes down to it, I will do what I need to do and deciding on what to do with your hair before leaving for Boot Camp, for a female, is a bit scary. My theory is simply that I can always cut it, I can't put it back. I will try it long and if it gets to be too much for me I will chop it off. It's not like I have anyone to impress in Boot Camp.

There are those who say something silly like, "Why don't you just do a GI Jane?" (If you don't know what that means it's just when a girl shaves off her hair like Demi Moore's character in the movie GI Jane did). To that, I would respond that the "GI Jane" hairstyle is actually against military grooming standard regulations.

As per the Marine Corps Grooming Standard:

The requirement for hair regulations is to maintain uniformity within a military population. Women's hairstyles require non-eccentric styles. Female Marines will be well groomed at all times and when in uniform will abide by the following:

Hair may touch the collar, but will not fall below the collar's lower edge. Hair that would fall naturally below the collar's lower edge will be neatly and inconspicuously fastened or pinned. During physical training periods in which physical training clothing is worn, hair will be allowed to fall naturally, without being fastened or pinned. This does not apply when conducting physical training in the utility uniform.

Hair will be styled so as not to interfere with the proper wear of the uniform headgear. All headgear will fit snugly and comfortably around the largest part of the head without distortion or excessive gaps. Hairstyles which do not allow the headgear to be worn in this manner are prohibited.

Faddish and exaggerated styles to include shaved portions of the scalp other than the neckline, designs cut in the hair, unsecured ponytails and styles which are distinctly unbalanced or lopsided are prohibited. Multiple braiding is authorized. If hair extensions are used in the braiding of the hair, the extensions must have the same general appearance as the individual's natural hair. Braided hairstyles will be conservative, and conform to other guidelines listed herein.

So, there you have it, girls. Don't shave your head.

There are other people who say, "Why worry about it?"

Well, I'll tell you why. According to a good female friend of mine who served as a Drill Instructor for a number of years, you only have a select amount of time to "master" your hair or the Drill Instructors get out the scissors. And, according to her, when the Drill Instructors get out the scissors it is guaranteed to be the worst hair cut of one's life.

To us women, our hair can be our identification and when my cold, hard husband heard of this even he winced and said, "That's COLD."

It is cold. The humiliation. The sadness at losing your hair to a Drill Instructor's scissors. No thank you. If I'm going to lose it it's going to be on my terms.

This is why I don't blame any gals who wish to cut their hair before they go. I think everyone should do what she thinks is best. I've decided to go with long hair. Because of that decision I've also decided to master the sock bun LONG before I ever get to Boot Camp. I'll let you know how it all turns out for me when I get back in January.

Flexed-Arm Hang Secrets (As Revealed By a Female Marine)

A female Marine once told me that the secret to the flexed-arm hang is singing the Marine Corps hymn.

I thought she was crazy but then she explained.

She said that if you count you will only psych yourself out, but if you hang on for dear life and sing the Marine Corps hymn and can make it through all three verses without stopping that you will max out your time for the hang.

I have taken her advice and just tonight I did 69 seconds on the flexed-arm hang. Only one second short of max. I also only got through two verses of the hymn.

Maybe it's just the motivation of singing the hymn. Maybe it's the mental distraction as you desperately try to remember the second and third verses while hanging on for dear life.

Either way, 69 seconds ain't bad.

ASVAB, MEPS, Duck Walk

When I took the practice ASVAB at my recruiter's office back in October or 2009 I got a score of 67. I was told that was still above average and good but I was not happy with it. The area of most issue was the Arithmetic Reasoning (AR) which both surprised and frustrated me. I'm very good at math and have always loved it, but, for one, I haven't taken any sort of algebra since high school (MANY years ago) and I am so precise in my calculations and processes that it takes me way too long to do a simple problem which means I didn't complete all of the AR questions in the alloted time frame.

I went out and got the McGraw Hill ASVAB study guide and a book called Painless Word Problems.

I worked through the entire Word Problems book and also worked through the McGraw Hill study guide.

However, whenever I took the practice tests in the back of the ASVAB study book I still couldn't go fast enough to complete all of the AR portion which severely hurt my final scores.

So it's not really a huge surprise that when the test day rolled around I was very nervous and anxious. I also had way too much coffee and was hit very strongly with the realization that this was really and truly happening. My leaving for MEPS meant that it wasn't just talk any more and there was no backing out (at least not in my mind). It was also the first time since my son was born that I would be away from him for the night and when you heaped all of those things together I was more jittery than a bunny rabbit on caffeine.

I had no appetite and could barely finish a few chicken sticks for lunch.

When we arrived at the recruiter's office I felt ill. Looking at my son smile up at me and giggle was almost too much to bear and I was so close to saying, "I can't do this." I know myself well enough to know that once he was out of my sight I would be able to recover so my husband lingering around with him and chatting with the recruiter was agony. As much as I didn't want them to go I was silently thinking, "I have to get out of here NOW or I won't be able to do this."

I was very relieved when my recruiter ushered my husband and son out of the front door and said we'd take the back. My husband threw my bag at me and said, "You carry your own gear." I would have laughed more heartily were it not for the fact I was feeling dizzy so I kissed him and my son quickly and turned my back to go before I either threw up or fainted.

As I had predicted, as soon as they were out of sight I started to feel better and by the time we were in the car and heading to MEPS I was almost back to normal with only a few small twists in my gut.

DAY ONE: THE ASVAB

We arrived at the MEPS and my recruiter chatted it up with a few other recruiters while I checked in with my Driver's License and Social Security card. There was also a form I had to sign. They had me read a small booklet with the rules and emergency plan and then took fingerprints of my right and left index fingers and a photo of me. Next I was told to proceed to the testing area where a Sailor would get me started.

The testing room was just a room with a desk, a lot of computers and a hushed, library-like atmosphere with a number of people taking the test.

The Sailor verified my information, sat me down at a computer and said, "Good luck."

I started the ASVAB.

Before I knew it I was done with General Science (GS) and on to Arithmetic Reasoning (AR). I have always been the kind of person who is nervous until I'm actually doing whatever it is that I'm nervous about. Once I'm actually doing the act I see no point in being nervous and I muscle forward in confidence, sure that I will do my best. I didn't even hesitate to start the AR section and before I knew it I was done. I had finished all of the questions with time to spare which made relief sweep over me and the rest of the test was a breeze.

I flew through the Word Knowledge (WK) and Paragraph Comprehension (PC) and even found the Mathematics Knowledge (MK) to be easy. The Electronics Information (EL) part was fun and only the Auto & Shop Information (AS) section was a little out of my range of knowledge. I made some educated guesses and moved on to Mechanical Comprehension (MC) which I had no problem with. Assembling Objects (AO) was the last section which was rather fun; kind of like doing a puzzle but without being able to move the pieces.

It was all over so quickly and the Sailor was back to verify my information again and tell me to go out to reception and wait for my recruiter.

He arrived and off we went to the office to check my score and fill out more paperwork.

When we got to the office, he queued up his computer and said, "Well, you got an 86."

I said, "WHAT!"

He said, "Yeah, look," while turning the screen to where I could see my score.

Sure enough, there it was. My AFQT was 86 with a GT of 118 and an EL of 120+ and the rest just kind of floated away. I was very, very happy.

Then I sat there signing my name again and again and again until my hand hurt. I signed statements of understanding that I had not taken drugs, had no tattoos, was not involved in any gang or discriminatory group, was not a Consciencious objector. Then I had to sign paperwork stating I was not sexually harassed and understood the Marine Corps policy on sexual harassment, drugs, tattoos and discriminatory groups. Finally I signed paperwork regarding my time in service and job though it is subject to change in the next few weeks. I also signed my background check forms stating that I had not lied and was agreeing to let the FBI pick apart my past.

After all of that was done my recruiter put all of that paperwork into a sealed envelop with mine, my husband's and son's birth certificates, Social Security cards and marriage licenses and told me to give it all to my liaison the next day at the MEPS.

Off we went to the hotel where I was briefed on the rules of no drugs, no alcohol, stay on your floor, dinner goes till 10:00, you must be in your room at 10:00, this is when you'll get your wake-up call, breakfast is served here, bus leaves at 5:20, stuff.

I went back to my room, called my husband and was happy to hear that my son had taken my absence much better than I had taken his. He ate dinner well and was currently getting sleepy and my husband was just about to put him to sleep. When I got off the phone with him I called my parents and gave them the update then grabbed my meal voucher for a much needed dinner. I was starved.

Just about the time I was leaving my room I remembered that there was a mandatory meeting for the MEPS applicants and I hurried to the room, glad that I was on time. There I met the only other female who would be my room mate.

After the meeting I went to dinner and had a large and tasty cheeseburger. My room mate came in shortly after I ordered and we ate together and talked about our chosen branches of service, why we wanted to serve and the like.

By the time I got back to my room it was about 9:00 and I was quick to call my husband to tell him goodnight and ask about his plans to come and pick me up at the MEPS the next day. I brushed my teeth, washed my face and slipped into bed where I lay wide awake for the next four hours. Even when I did manage to find I had fallen asleep, something as small as the heater kicking on would send my eyes shooting open where I would remain awake for another ungodly amount of time.

DAY TWO: MEPS

Four in the morning comes all too quickly when you can't sleep and before you know it the phone was ringing.

I took a quick shower, brushed my teeth and the phone rang to tell us that there had been flooding in some of the streets and we needed to hurry because the bus was leaving earlier than usual to take another route to the MEPS.

My room mate and I rushed down stairs where we stuffed ourselves with eggs, bacon and orange juice while the bus driver stood watch at the door and then we were on the bus and heading to MEPS.

The term "Hurry Up and Wait" is EXACTLY what MEPS is all about. We hurried into a line in front of the building only to wait for our turn to pass our bags through the screener and walk through a metal detector. We hurried into formation only to wait through a long and boring briefing about darned-near every room in the building and the rules such as no cell phones, no gum, no hands in pockets, no lying, go here, then there, then back here again, address everyone appropriately, don't be cute, have a nice day.

We hurried through role call and to our selected service liaison's office where the five of us who were joining the Marines were told the exact same things as in our original briefing only this time with many more expletives provided by our liaison, an ornery Staff Sergeant with the shortest strawberry blond hair you can imagine and sharp blue eyes that he was deliberate about boring into each and every one of us.

Then we hurried over to medical where we waited our turn to have our eyesight, ears, blood, urine and bodies checked from head to stinky toe.

I'm happy to report that I am not color blind, have better than average near sightedness in my right eye and perfect hearing.

I'm also not pregnant.

It was completely useless to be first in line because you still had to wait for everyone else to complete the process before you could move on anyway. Wether you were first, middle or last made no difference, you hurried and waited just as long as everyone else.

Finally it was time for me and the other gal to do our physical portion which was hilarious and kind of fun. We got stuck in a room by ourselves and told to strip down to our underwear. First they took our height and weight and I was irritated to find I am still four pounds underweight though my recruiter tells me he is sure to get me a waiver.

After that we had to wait for the doctor to come in and while we waited we read the motions off the board and were attempting to do them on our own. When the doctor and the nurse arrived we were both laughing and having a good time. We did all the funky movements and, yes, the duck walk does kind of stick with you.

Next we had to go individually into an exam room where the doctor looked us over head to toe. Mostly he asked me about my weight and pregnancy and then I was told to hurry and get dressed and wait in the reception area.

I hurried, I waited.

While waiting I took a peak at the doctor's notes and I was happy to see that he specifically noted I did not have an eating disorder, or allergy to any food and was healthy and normal.

Next it was time to go back to our liaison's offices and the five of us wannabe Marines hurried over there only to be colorfully told to sit down and wait. We hurried. We waited some more.

While we were waiting we noticed the other applicants chatting and laughing with their service liaisons while the five of us sat stick straight and silently outside of the Marine Corps office like we were waiting for the door to explode and that red-blond SSgt to come out guns blazing.

The other gal came out of her liaison office and said, "He told me to go to lunch. Want to come?"

I said, "My guy told me to sit here so I'm staying."

It was now 10:30 and the cafeteria was open, our stomachs were growling and while everyone else was heading to lunch the five of us sat there like little stone statues.

An hour rolled by and we didn't move.

Finally, the head guy who had initially briefed us upon entering came over and asked if any of us had eaten. We told him we hadn't and he stuck his head in the Marine Corps liaison's office, then came out and told us to go eat. We practically tripped over each other on our way to the cafeteria.

We ate fast and were back to the liaisons office where, FINALLY, the first one was called in.

Another forty-five minutes and I was called to the front desk to meet my husband and son. I was so happy to see both of them but couldn't stay to chat as I was the only one left to be seen by my liaison.

I went back to his office and sat there just as he brought another applicant out of his office.

"Did you do your pull-ups at your recruiter's office?" he asked the kid.

"Yes, Sir," the boy answered.

"Well, I don't give a [colorful-phrase] what you say you did there. You are going to do them for me, here. Get on my pull-up bar."

The boy hurried over to the red pull-up bar with "MARINES" stenciled all over it and started his pull-ups while the liaison counted them out.

I winced.

My prior recruiter had told me that there would be no strength testing at MEPS and to attempt to conserve my weight for the weigh-in I was told not to work out until after MEPS so I didn't loose any precious ounces. Outside of doing my daily Yoga I have not been working out, so I was a bit nervous as to what I knew was coming.

Sure enough, after the boy dropped from the bar, the SSgt turned to me and said, "You! Did you do your flexed-arm hang?"

"No, Sir."

"Get on my bar."

Because I'm shorter than most he had to give me a boost up to the bar where I held on for dear life as he timed me on his watch.

I was very surprised to here the words, "You're doing good," come out of his mouth and I did 32 pathetic seconds before I dropped to the floor.

Wordlessly he disappeared back into his office and because I was not told to follow I sat back in the waiting area and waited some more.

Another ten minutes went by and he finally called me in to go over my paperwork.

We got to the drug portion and I knew what was going to happen.

"Have you ever taken any drugs?"

"No, Sir."

"Abused any prescription drugs?"

"No, Sir."

He looked me in the face doubtfully. "Never a hit from marijuana? Not a night at a party where you were having a little too much fun..."

"No, Sir."

"You're sure, because it doesn't necessarily disqualify you. You lie to me, however, and I find out about it and you will be disqualified and can be prosecuted for fraudulent enlistment. So, I'm going to ask again, ANY drugs?"

"No, Sir."

"Have you ever gotten high off of anything?"

"No, Sir."

He doesn't know that growing up I never so much as touched the stuff. Sure, I had the same opportunities as others to do drugs but they scared me to death. After hearing one girl talk about being date raped and having a bad trip where she was hallucinating worms on the walls and waking up in rooms she couldn't recognize without her clothes as a result of getting high I was scared straight and never so much as wanted to look at the stuff. I am a pure drug virgin and plan on dying that way.

"I bet you don't have many people who can say they've never touched drugs," I said.

"Everyone says it," he said, a touch of annoyance in his voice, "I just don't believe it."

"I suppose that's true," I said. "People don't believe me when I say I've never touched drugs but I haven't. And I don't care if they believe me or not. I know what I know and it's that I've never done any kind of drugs."

He rolled his eyes and carried on with the paperwork, making notes as we went.

When I was done he gave me my Service Record Book (SRB) and told me to give it to my recruiter and ordered me out of his office.

After that I checked out and walked out of the MEPS into fresh air, happy to see my husband sitting in the car with our son in his lap, his head sticking out of the window and pointing at me.

We had to go over to the recruiter's office and give him my SRB and my husband had to sign some stuff indicating that he is mentally, physically and financially able to take care of our son while I'm in training.

After that he took me out to dinner and it was time to go home.

All in all it was a boring, long process.

I would never be convinced that it is hard or bad or humiliating, etc. I suppose that after giving birth and having at least twelve doctors and nurses seeing me naked, screaming and sweaty, having another doctor and nurse and girl see me in my underwear while I duck walk around the room is nothing.

Next I have to get my college transcripts, which I requested this morning, and when all of the blood work and initial background check info comes back I will swear in and sign my Department of Defense (DoD) contract and be sworn in to the DEP.

I'm told this should all be done before April 1 and right now I have my choice between an August ship date and an October one.

We'll see, but I'm wanting to take the August one.

Till then, it's just more waiting.

M-4 Meets Nose, M-4 Wins

Perhaps it's typical for former Marines to be firearms enthusiasts and to marry fellow firearms enthusiasts or perhaps we are just atypical. Either way, may husband and I are both exuberant enthusiasts. We have a gun collection to rival some police stations and are both certified instructors. I've worked in the gun industry for the last three years and my husband shoots in two leagues.

I say all of that to say that we have guns and know how to use them (or so I thought!).

As a hopeful recruit of the United States Marine Corps I decided it would be prudent to know everything I could before I left for Recruit Training. Though I am extremely familiar with the M16-A2 battle rifle I have never performed any sort of rifle drilling.

I asked my husband if he would teach me some of the rifle drills and he was happy to comply. We got our AR-15, M-4 type rifles out of the safe and went to work on Inspection Arms. Though a few inches short in barrel and lacking the option for 3-round burst, the rifles are similar enough to do a decent drill with.

Primarily, the drill consists of standing at attention with your rifle to your right side, bringing it up and across your chest at a forty-five degree angle, racking the bolt back to reveal an empty chamber, checking the chamber and then presenting the rifle for inspection.

Sounds simple, doesn't it?

After the first five times of doing it I discovered just how difficult it can be. By the tenth time I was getting the initial presentation down and started working on racking the bolt and checking the chamber.

I watched my husband rack the bolt on his M-4, racked the bolt on my own M-4, watched him check his chamber and did the same. He brought his rifle back down sharply in front of his chest and I said, "Okay, like this?"

With that I whipped my rifle down and to the right and instantly felt my nose explode in pain, the fierceness of it spreading across the entire front of my face. The front site hit me squarely on the side of the nose with all the force of an improperly wielded rifle.

I cupped my nose with my right hand, my eyes welling with tears of pain as I held out my rifle with the left and said, "Take it! Take it! Take it!"

My husband was attempting to sound compassionate through the peels of laughter as he took my rifle from me. I would be laughing myself were it not for the fact that I couldn't stop crying.

Fully expecting to find blood in my hands I still cupped my nose and sobbed, laughed, cursed while my husband just laughed and got out of few words along the lines of, "That was hilarious," and "Are you okay?"

Finally, he convinced me to let him look at my nose and he assured me it was still straight though I could have sworn it was missing all together.

It took me about ten minutes to fully recover my composure and my husband and I shared another good five minutes laughing and taking turns checking for broken bones.

"I wonder what my Drill Instructors would have done if that happened in Boot Camp?" I asked.

My husband sat on the floor and shook his head, "I don't know but I really hope you never find out."

With a massive headache and throbbing nose I picked up my M-4 and said, "Okay. Let's try that again."

Determined and Scared to Death

I wanted to join the military when I was a kid. I could give you a million reasons why it didn't happen but the long and short of it is that I chickened out. If I wanted it bad enough I could have had it but I took those excuses and ran with them and some of them were darned good excuses. I took the path of least resistance and while it has led me to many wonderful things in my life it has left me wondering "what if" and regretting that which I never did.

I went to college, got married, had a child, worked many interesting and wonderful jobs but the desire to serve never left me, not ever for a second. Neither has that desire faded but rather grown in its intensity until it is all that I can think about. I've tried to bury it with work. I've tried to live vicariously through my husband and his service. I've tried distracting myself with my son but in the end I have nothing left but the knowledge that I've not done what I was called to do a dozen years ago.

Life has a funny way of bringing opportunities around and this thing called life just walked up to me with a silver platter and said, "This is it. If you don't do it now you never will. Take this opportunity because I won't be coming back with it."

I talked to my husband and he promised to support me completely so I started looking around at the different branches of service and seeing recruiters. I have always had the utmost respect for Marines. Heck, I married one. Though my husband has been out for three years now he still has that espirit de Corps that is infectious. After spending ten years around Marines I know as much as I can know without being a Marine myself. I know the ranks and the MOS fields and structure. I know cutting scores, lingo, policies, history, etc, but still I didn't even consider the Marines until I realized that, while looking through some Air Force information, I was having to convert everything into Marine Corps terms to understand it.

It hit me. Why not the Marines? Why settle for another branch when you already love and know the Corps?

It fit and when I told my husband of my new plan he got a big grin on his face and immediately started giving me tips on surviving Boot Camp and making lists of things I'll have to know. He got out his Green Monster from Boot Camp and installed a pull-up bar in my office so I can work on my flexed-arm hangs. He has been geeking out about the idea of his wife becoming a Marine ever since.

But here I am, shaking like a leaf. This is where I chickened out so many times. At least three times in my past I looked into my military future and turned away. It's not fear of deployments or physical trials. I'm not afraid of being yelled at or anything the military can do to me. In truth, I'm not exactly sure what I'm afraid of.

When I went down to the Marine Corps Recruiting Office, the recruiter had me (like all potential recruits) arrange tiles with words like "physical fitness", "college benefits" and "Professional Development and Opportunities," on them in order of importance. It's a way to gauge why people are enlisting and if it is for the right reasons.

My top four were: "Courage, Poise and Self-Confidence," "Pride of Belonging," "Leadership and Management Skills" and "Professional Development and Opportunities."

When asked to explain why I chose those tiles I explained that my life has become stale and my skills are atrophying from lack of use. While perhaps I'm not completely void of the things listed on those tiles they are the things I want to develop in myself. I want--no, need--to make a change in my life that allows me to feel like I'm doing something and going somewhere.

Yes, I love my family and have gotten great satisfaction from being a wife and a mother but I know to many house-wives who, once their children are gone, go on to be bitter old hags because they never developed themselves professionally. Their sense of purpose began and ended with their children and once their children were gone they lost that purpose and it embittered and angered them even leaving them to resent the life they chose.

For me, it's not about the money or the benefits. I think I'd still do this even if I got payed a dollar a week. I want the challenge. I want to be pushed out of my comfort zone, broken down and built back up to something bigger and better than myself. I want to earn the title I've respected and loved for so long.

Upon sharing that with my husband he just laughed and said, "Then you chose the right branch."

I don't want to chicken out. I don't want to find an excuse not to do this no matter how hard a part of me is looking for one. This is my last opportunity and I don't want to waste it. I don't want to look at myself in the mirror ten years from now and find a coward staring back at me. I don't want to be afraid but I am.

Perhaps I'm afraid that I'm not doing this for the right reasons. Perhaps I'm afraid of what this will do to my family. Perhaps I'm afraid of how much I will miss my husband and my son. Maybe I'm afraid of the uncertainty of it all. Maybe I'm afraid I'll hate it. I know I'm afraid of failure.

I heard once that courage is not the absence of fear. It's being afraid and acting anyway.

I need a good dose of action.