Where is That Woman?

Yesterday I woke-up two hours after my usual time. This left me scrambling to dress and compress what I do in two hours in less than 30 minutes. Priorities got the best of me, things I wanted to get done fell to the wayside, while todays to-do list got a bit a longer.
This is what happens when you manage a multifaceted life like I do right now. Life happens. No excuses. It just is.
Today I woke-up without the alarm and found myself alone in bed with Maya. My hubby had slipped out of bed in the wee hours of the morning because I was snoring.
It doesn't happen often, but it does. This time it didn't bother me.
I laid crossways on our bed cuddling with Maya while she snored. I heard birds chirping outside and the sun barely peeked from the bathroom window and into our room.  I bent my left leg in just the right awkward position to look at my ankle scar. I touched it.
Damn scar.
My left leg is officially scared for life. From my toe, to the side of my foot, to my ankle, and three horrid scars on my knee, my left leg looks like a Frankenstein experiment gone wrong. Each scar has a story. Too many to share right now.
Somehow that scar reminded of the crotchety stars I walked-up a few years back. Those stairs led to a typical Venice apartment where six, maybe seven, women met on a weekly basis for a couple of months to get inspired as we grew our business.
I stayed in touch with a couple of those women, one even designed my wedding collateral, but many of them are simply updates on my Facebook feed.
With the memory of that crotchety staircase fresh on my mind I took my phone to check-out some of those women.
One got married. Somehow I remember knowing it, but now she is also pregnant. Where had time gone?
Then I found the woman that led the group. I had forgotten that she had embarked on her own version of "Eat, Pray, Love" and has been traveling for two years.  Her dream, at the time that I met her, was to write a book and I think somewhere in there she mentioned life coaching. Honestly, I don't remember. That was her dream, not mine.
I spent a better part of my morning looking over her Facebook feed, photos and comments from friends. I was a nice version of a troll. But a troll, none the less.
I had no idea how far she had come from that apartment in Venice. That got me to thinking, what happened to me?
Not in a bad way, but a good way. My dream when I first met her was to grow my start-up PR agency and secure Fortune 500 clients. Truthfully, for all for the wrong reasons.
I wanted to show them. Them being all the doubters, haters, past bosses, former colleagues, and even myself. I wanted to show myself that I could run in the same circles as I had before - by myself - but better.
I won award after award, client after client, and built what I wanted - alone.
But it wasn't fulfilling and wasn't my dream.
At one point it was hard to make the decision to just do what I wanted to do and leave it all behind.  It sounded silly - it was silly - and I'm doing it now.
God, it feels good to be the woman I am meant to be.