An Aggressive Turn.
I approach everything aggressively, if you haven’t noticed.
And I used to wish I were different because the first definition of that word is lined with real daggers like invasion and force and pushy and attack. Jeepers, it’s so laced and loaded.
But if you read further down the page, it can also mean vigorously energetic, spreading rapidly, and “emphasizing maximum growth and capital gains over quality, security and income.”
I’ve only ever carried the first definition of the word with me, like some sort of guilt trip. My aggressiveness has always felt so damn loud. And I fought it for so long, but at some point, I just shrugged and said, “To hell with it. Let’s not pretend here. You can sit down if you want, but I want to dominate, takeover, capture the flag and scourge thine enemies, man. Get out of my way.”
Because I couldn’t change it, I leaned into it.
For better or for worse, I carried it with me everywhere.
It just took me forever to finally trip over the other half of what it can mean - the energy and contagiousness and growth of it. And I nearly bawled when I read the last definition out loud because I finally felt some truth at the mic: I want to grow more than I want anything else, even assurance of certainty.
My aggressive run at life, at everything, isn’t necessarily to pillage and pilfer every small town along the way – although that, admittedly, does make my eyes glint a bit – but it fuels my growth.
It’s why I’m a risk-taker.
I’ll roll the dice if there’s an incline.
That’s worth it to me.
Can I grow? Ok, let’s try it.
Can you make me grow? Ok, let’s hang out.
Can this experience push me to grow? Ok, where’s the starting line.
And yeah, I’ll aggressively push myself to get there because I have to live with me. I have to be in this body and swim in this soul. It better be climbing up and shedding itself out of yesterday’s skin and last year’s mold, otherwise what the bleep am I even doing?