Do you know that feeling that you get when you are standing on the top of the Big Rock at the lake? The one that looks so much smaller when you aren't right at the edge? Your heart is racing and you know you have this weird smile plastered across your face as you convince yourself that no, you can't possibly turn back around play it off like you just remembered that 'Aunt Marge always said; that every time you jump off a rock a baby chipmunk gets smooshed flat'.

You grit your teeth, clench your fists, and you promptly forget the mechanics of breathing as you plant your feet and push off the tips of your toes to rocket out into the unbearable sunshine. For a moment you feel like you hang there: caught among the sunbeams, and anything-everything is possible.

Starting something new is like that- except with a whole lot more reasons why you shouldn't even go near the edge, let alone leap off into the unknown. Especially starting something that you care about- that you've always secretly hoped you could do as you spent all your time telling your friends, loved ones, and innocent by-passers on public transportation how it was a terrible idea.

As terrified as I am by this step- I still don't feel like I've taken the full leap. I still have my 'My Little Pony' water-wings on and there are loving supportive arms waiting down below to catch me. But it is a step- a first step, and all the more important because it is the first.