God love my husband. Last Valentine’s Day he gave me what I considered to be at the time, the worst gift ever.

“A self-help book??” I shrieked.

“Well, it seemed like it was something that would be totally up your alley,” protested my husband.

“Valentine’s Day is supposed to be about hearts and candy and flowers and shit like that,” I huffed. “NOT introspection.”

“Well, I thought you’d like it,” replied my husband.

I rolled my eyes in disgust and shoved the book back in the bag. I stomped up to our room where I tossed the bag down and hoped my husband had something better up his sleeve. The book stayed there for months, gathering dust in the corner of my room, until I was preparing for a long cross-country flight.

I hadn’t time to get anything new so I begrudgingly stuffed it in my bag before my flight to read if I was hopelessly bored or anxious during the journey (side note: I am a very nervous flier. Like, I dig my nails and gasp audibly into my husband’s arms during take-off, any turbulence, direction changes, whether or not the seat-belt lights turns on or off, at the general facial expressions of the flight-attendants and so forth. Flying with me is not enjoyable and I own up to it.).

After we had safely made it to our cruising altitude, I unclenched my eyes, fists and legs, and looked out the window at the clouds below to ponder my current state of affairs.

While I could count my blessings with my fabulous husband and son, my beautiful house and terrific friends, I was caught in a swirling mess of self-doubt about my career and my life goals. I suppose you could call it my mid-life-crisis as I had turned 40 earlier that summer. Anyhow, I was tired of my anxiety about my future and tired of the status quo. Who was I? What was I meant to do? What about my dreams?

Hurtling through the sky at hundreds of miles an hour, faced with my own existential crisis, I took out my book to distract myself, as I was, quite literally and metaphorically, stuck.

As I read, I thought, “There is no way….how is she in my head?” The author eerily detailed my frustrations. As I read further, I started to get pumped. I felt as if she had written this book just for me and was giving me the best pep talk I’d ever had.

Post-landing, I turned to my husband (after I released him from a veritable headlock) and said, “Wow. I’m really glad you gave me this book.” He smiled quietly at me and grabbed my hand as we exited the plane.

Reading this book is probably one of the best things I have ever done. I won’t go into a whole lot of detail here, because I don’t want to spoil the book for you, but I will say that you should NOT read this book if you’re not willing to really to get a fire lit under your ass to work toward your dream, whatever that is. It’s going to take a lot of self-reflection and digging deep to figure out what it is that you really want. That can be scary. But once you’ve done it and claim your power, nothing can stop you!

Since reading the book, good things have happened. Not magical by any means, but things that tell me I’m on the right path. I’m on my way to being a total Bad-Ass, and you can too! (Thank you, hubby.)

Until next time, keep dreaming big!

You can find “How to Be A Bad-Ass” by Jen Sincero at most major book retailers.