Self Belief

I think I have this weird sense of self belief [see: I Can Do This] in part because I’m a middle child. A forgotten child. I’m sure not all middle children feel the same, or even grow up the same. But with four brothers and a much older sister, I was, for the most part, the forgotten one who lived in a world of her own. I was a dreamer wandering a fantastical landscape of my own imagination where I could be both a super hero one minute, and a whale the next. No wonder I never heard my mother half the time when she called my name. I was Ultra Man fighting a monster from the depths of the ocean, or Superman brandishing my x-ray vision to see inside a building, or Wonder Woman battling some bad guy with my shield, sword, and lariat of truth. I wandered through fields of dandelions thinking they were fairy artillery, chasing butterflies who were secretly ridden by pixies being dive-bombed by dragonflies whose riders were a rival clan. I talked with crows, sang with skylarks, and watched…