What happens when something you spent most of your life believing you could never do becomes something you can actually see yourself doing?

For me, that something is speaking.

That may sound strange. In high school, I would rather take an F than stand in front of the class and give a speech.

I was a straight-A student, but speaking in front of people as a child was different. As I grew, I admired the ones who could stand up, debate a topic, know what they were talking about, and seem completely comfortable doing it.

They seemed to have something I did not.

Confidence.

In my world, everyone else always seemed to know more than I did. They had something to say while I usually stood back and wondered what I could possibly add.

The strange part is that the desire to speak was always there.

Believing in myself enough to think I could actually do it was another story. It became one more dream, one more desire to become someone I never really believed I could be.

Then the stroke came.

Words disappeared. So much of my vocabulary was gone, and even putting together a sentence that made sense to someone else could be difficult. In my mind, I had lost what little I thought I had.

For years, so much energy went into relearning the meaning of words, rebuilding vocabulary, and figuring out how to communicate again. Any thought of speaking in front of people seemed even farther away than it had before.

But the words came back.

Little by little, conversations became easier. Reading, writing, and learning became part of my life again.

Friends often came to me for advice. Life had given me experiences that made me grow up faster than I should have. I had always spent time reading and researching the things that intrigued me.

Then one day, my friends started telling me something I had never considered.

I knew things they did not.

At first, I did not believe them. For years, I had assumed everyone else already knew this stuff and I was simply the one catching up after the years I had lost following my stroke.

Was that really true?

Maybe some of what I had learned could actually help someone else.

Years ago, my daughter took me to a TED Talk. At the time, I really did not know much about what it was.

I watched people speak about things they cared deeply about. They knew their topic, loved what they were talking about, and seemed to walk away feeling they had done something worthwhile.

I was mesmerized.

Afterward, I told my daughter, “I want to do that someday.”

She probably thought I was nuts, but she said, “Okay.”

That thought never completely went away.

Today, I am not picturing a giant stage or hundreds of people staring back at me. I am far from that.

What I am picturing is creating small virtual workshops where women gather to talk about the topic of the day. They can share their stories, listen to what others have experienced, and perhaps realize they are not alone.

Maybe hearing how someone else found her way around a roadblock will help another woman see that she can find her own way too.

I have always had a way of looking at roadblocks. When one shows up, try going over it. If that does not work, go under it. Go around one side or the other.

And if none of that works, build a bridge.

Life has taught me that a roadblock does not always mean the road is over.

Sometimes we just have to find another way.

That is the kind of conversation I would like to have.

Not standing in front of people pretending to have all the answers. That would not feel like me.

What would feel like me is talking with women, asking questions, listening to their stories, sharing what I have learned, and perhaps helping someone notice something she had forgotten about herself.

If one woman took a moment after our Zoom and told me something I said had touched her heart, that would mean so much to me.

If it helped her see what had been there all along, that would mean more than being told I was a great speaker.

Becoming a great speaker is not my goal.

Being able to speak, connect with someone, and perhaps help her see something differently is.

I would like to be an example that life can still move forward, even when it does not go in the direction we thought it would. Sometimes it becomes a whole new world of possibilities.

And somewhere along the way, the words in my own head have changed too.

It used to be, “If I ever speak…”

Now it is, “When I speak…”

Will I be nervous?

Probably.

Will every word come out exactly the way I want it to?

I doubt it.

Will one virtual workshop lead to another or even something bigger someday?

I have no idea.

There are some things we can think about forever and still never know how they will turn out. At some point, the only way to know is to try.

My words were taken away from me once. They came back.

So what am I willing to try before I know how it ends?

This.

To use those words, step into something I once believed I could never do, and see where it takes me.