When I was a girl, my head was filled with dreams.
I wanted to be an astronaut when I grew up. Or, follow my Dad and Grandads’ footprints by enlisting in the military.
Being born with moderate hearing loss, I was told that these dreams were unattainable.
Being a dreamer, I also had an overactive imagination, and had to try any and everything I could think of.
Occasionally, this landed me in a heap of trouble including a trip to the ER.
Until one day, my best friend challenged me and my fellow 6th grade classmates on who could write the scariest story.
My story was about a girl who entered a haunted house on a dare and discovered a bloody, decapitated head in the fridge.
They thought the story totally awesome and gruesome.
From then on, instead of physically attempting strange and crazy stunts, I wrote about them.
I grew up in the Adirondacks. These beautiful high peaks of upstate New York fascinated me as I found them to be teeming with mysteries and untold stories.
Little did I realize at the time as to how much these mountains and writing will impact my life later.
Around the same time I discovered writing, I also discovered that I was pretty good in sports. Especially as a runner.
Using this passion, I headed to college to pursue a degree in Exercise Science.
I was about half way through my studies when I was diagnosed with Retinitis Pigmentosa.
Here I was, a young woman who has moderate hearing loss to begin with, I learned I would gradually be losing my eyesight to boot!
Such a crushing blow to all my hopes and aspirations.
I simply just gave up.
I mean, who in their right mind would hire a woman who’s legally deaf and slowly going blind to train professional athletes?
I ended up graduating with a Bachelor degree in Physical Education and worked for a time as a fitness trainer, and high school cross-country coach.
By then, my vision had deteriorated enough I had to step down.
I shifted gears and entered the Banking industry to work as a Loan Servicing Specialist in the back office.
A desk job.
But it was a job that paid the bills and came with medical benefits.
I sat in the desk, day in and day out.
Over time, I learned that dreams come in all forms. And then it hit me.
Well, I think it was the Muse who gave me a good smack.
Through the act of writing, I have the power to create new dreams.
My mind brimmed of words and images. Of those ancient peaks of my childhood.
Characters jabbered and yelled at me for keeping the silence for far too long.
I picked up a pen.
And never looked back.