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Why “Just Average” is the New Awesome

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My fancy big book that made me think I was special – for a while.

From the time I was very small, I was led to believe that I was special. I was an only child, so really, my every whim was indulged. Every toy I wanted at Christmas magically appeared and anything I wanted to try I was, pretty much, able to do. As I got older, I learned to love the “gold star.” I entered every school contest, almost every club, and played every sport (to be fair, my school was very small and only offered three sports – one for each season).

I grew up believing I could do or be anything I wanted. And pretty much, I have. I’ll be honest, though, it hasn’t always been enough. As my adult life evolved simultaneously as a parent (I had my first child at 19), so did the world. There was no Internet when my first couple of kids were born and so everything I knew about parenting I read in books or saw on TV. I started to evolve as a person and develop my own passions too, which included writing, homesteading, and dog mushing in addition to my parenting.

And I wanted to be the best at those things. I wanted other people to acknowledge I was the best. I wanted my gold star. 

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