I vividly remember sitting on my daddy’s lap, watching t.v. with him and mommy in the living room of our first house. I was just three years old.

We were watching some show about presidents or astronauts — I had a lot of dreams of what life would look like when I was older. (I mean, after all, I was named after one of Charlie’s Angels…one could say I was made to entertain grandiose dreams.) I asked my parents if I could do [that] someday (be president, astronaut, whatever it was we were watching).

My parents responded with a lot of conviction and passion, which is probably why this is one of the earliest memories I have. “Absolutely! You can do anything you want when you grow up!” Then there was some talk about how lots of people will try to tell me I can’t because I’m a girl, yada yada yada. What I took away with it is no matter what “they” say, there were no limits on me.

So I tried to live without limits for a long time, grandios-ing, if you will, what I heard as a 3-year old. But what I came to find out is this: while I can do anything, I can’t do everything. Or at least I can’t do everything well.