I played guitar the other day for the first time in months. Sad, given how much joy it brings me.

I’d forgotten.

I was at a friend’s place. I was buzzed and unbothered.

Suddenly, I had the urge to strum a tune. An itch that must be scratched. So, my buddy scurried into his room and came back with his acoustic.

I tuned up and plucked a few notes. A sound wave of ecstasy vibrated from the strings and into my soul.

It felt so damn good. Something I’ve been struggling to feel lately. And with it came a release.

I gave way, completely. Nothing held back. I let go of everything bottled up, and I transferred all that emotion into a song I wrote.

I hit the notes loudly. Not concerning myself with what others may hear as noise. Not trying to be quiet and cover up my mistakes. (Remember, it’s been ages since I last played—no more “blisters on me fingers.”)

Never have I experienced what I experienced in that moment. It was ethereal. Profound.

I was crying by the end of that tune, tears running down my face. 

From the release, for sure, but also from a realization. The recognition that I’ve been playing small my entire life. That I’ve been afraid.

You see, I can’t recall a time when I lived as large as my dreams. But within a three-minute song, I discovered how big I can be.

How big I am.

Truth is, I’ve let smallness hold me back. I think we all do, for the most part.

We all have this fear of failure that stops us from really trying. From going all in, fully, on our dreams.

Maybe it’s not fear of failure. It could be fear of judgement from our friends, family, or peers. Whatever the case, we give into this fear so often it becomes the norm. A self-imposed form of classical conditioning. (Pavlov’s dog would be so pissed.)

Because it’s easier to give it a half-assed go. Or to not try at all. At least we have an excuse for why it didn’t pan out.

That’s safer, right?

Right. But it’s also the surest path to regret and misery. (Ask me how I know.)

That’s the thing about self-limiting beliefs. They keep you playing small, unable to be as big as you were born to be.

Well, it’s time I stepped outside that smallness. To ignore the negative narrative in my head. To recognize that a thought isn’t a fact, something I don’t have to listen to or accept. 

All that matters is believing I’m big enough. All that matters is I believe in myself.

Big or small. It’s my choice.

And it’s your choice, too.