“It’s on you,” I said. “Yeah, I know shit is fucked up. I know what you’ve
been through. I was there, bitch! Merry fucking Christmas. Nobody is
coming to save your ass! Not your mommy, not Wilmoth. Nobody! It’s up to
you!”
By the time I was done talking, I was shaved clean. Water pearled on my
scalp, streamed from my forehead, and dripped down the bridge of my nose.
I looked different, and for the first time, I’d held myself accountable. A new
ritual was born, one that stayed with me for years. It would help me get my
grades up, whip my sorry ass into shape, and see me through graduation and
into the Air Force.
The ritual was simple. I’d shave my face and scalp every night, get loud, and
get real. I set goals, wrote them on Post-It notes, and tagged them to what I
now call the Accountability Mirror, because each day I’d hold myself
accountable to the goals I’d set. At first my goals involved shaping up my
appearance and accomplishing all my chores without having to be asked.
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