When I read this question. What was the hardest personal goal you’ve set for yourself? My mind went blank. Not because I don’t have goals, but because I honestly don’t know which one counts as “hardest.”
Maybe it’s because most of my goals weren’t written down in neat little lists or vision boards. They came disguised as survival, moments where life said, “Right, time to start again.” And so I did, again and again.
I’ve walked away from things others would cling to: houses full of possessions, relationships that drained the soul, places that no longer felt like home. Each time I thought, this must be the hardest part. But then the next storm rolled in, and I realized strength isn’t something you find once; it’s something you keep rebuilding from the rubble.
I think my hardest goals have been invisible ones, forgiving people who never said sorry, choosing peace instead of payback, and learning that walking away doesn’t mean losing. And maybe the hardest of all has been trying to trust myself again after the world tried to convince me not to.
These days, I’m starting to believe that not knowing exactly what my hardest goal is might be the whole point. Life keeps shifting the goalposts, and I just keep showing up anyway, barefoot, coffee in hand, dodgy socks and all.
Message from Granny Frass:
“Ah, Mae, maybe the hardest goal is the one that never ends, learning to live with an open heart in a world that’ll test it daily. But sure, you’re getting there. And if all else fails, there’s always tea, a bit of laughter, and a cat who knows more about patience than most people.” 🫖 🐾
Mae 🧡
UNDER THE WILL... OVER THE DRAMA... 
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