I used to be at odds with ambition. I was too idealistic and believed ambition to be a gross expression of masculinity. However, now, I think that my past hang ups with ambition and by extension, asserting myself, was just an elaborate defence mechanism of depressive tendencies. If I didn’t need to actively pursue anything, implement initiatives to better myself, under the false guise of self-preservation, then I was rewarded by staying in the incredibly subtle downward spiral. By remaining unchanged my apathy remained stalwart, keeping my mind and body under its Marshall law.
However, I recognise now that my ambition can cut right through all that self-pity. My ambition to write, my ambition for professional success, my ambition for love, my ambition for strong and honest relationships, my ambition for personal health; they are all on a higher moral ground of self-preservation and they must be pursued. I will no longer shirk ambition and improvement under the false-pretense of eschewing a gender role (ergo excessive masculinity). I will not surrender myself, my being, my thoughts, my future to entrapping ideals that intend for nothing more than perpetuating a cycle and placing myself last.
My ambition is happiness. Solid, tangible and nurtured happiness.