Then, I remind myself that everything worth having is worth the wait and the effort. For seven years, my dream has been to open my own restaurant. I've written business plan after business plan, each one not quite right for my abilities, the market, or both and more. And while, to some, a food truck isn't exactly a restaurant, to this single mom who's been through the ringer more times than I care to admit since moving back to Arkansas, it is exactly that. A way to realize a long-wished-for ambition; a way to finally find financial security while doing something I'm passionate about--helping people, supporting local farmers and producers, and introducing my neck of the woods to beautiful, healthy cuisine.
No matter the long string of abusive boyfriends, the legal issues that still seem completely unfair in retrospect, and the loss of independence as a result of putting trust in people who crushed my faith in anything but myself (and I even suffered many doubts there); I have to believe that what goes around comes around, and my time is coming for something good. It's something that is long overdue. It's an unwavering motivation to use my mind and abilities in the best possible way I know how, and each day there are setbacks, but every few weeks there are also amazing breakthroughs.
So I trudge through the puzzles of this endeavor, figuring out how to do this on the tightest of budgets in a serious time crunch, and putting my money where my mouth is, because , to me, doing what you say you'll do is always indicative of your character. It's the first business I've decided to go at alone, and somewhere, deep inside, I know that it is the best decision I'll ever make. I used to wake up grinding my teeth at all the horrible situations I'd been through, but now I'm choosing to believe that the universe puts you through things to make you tougher and wiser and more compassionate. So many things I fell for before are never going to slip past me now. So many things that I let drag me down to sadness and surrender in the past are the things now that seem like a walk in the park. And so many things I didn't fight harder for before are the things that I will fight for now if it takes my last breath. I've been there, I've done that; and it wasn't pretty, but it's made me a better person for it in every way imaginable.
So, no matter now whether I have to buy a new engine, I know that this will just be a hiccup, a little trip, a learning experience. I know now that the little failures make the big win all that much sweeter in the end, and I'm ready for sweetness.