a year ago
I’ve been talking real big lately, telling myself I can achieve all of the dreams currently trapped in my head.
And I can. Most of them require things like hard work, determination, free (or stolen) time, persistence, and just simply believing in myself.
Years ago, at my first professional job interview, my future Boss asked, “where do you see yourself in five years?”
I told her and the co-interviewer I wanted to write a book that had nothing to do with Occupational therapy. They looked at me funny, not sure what to say. I’m almost positive she expected me to say the typical things like, “become a supervisor,” or “get a specialty certification.”
But I’ve never been typical, I’m a dreamer.
Six years later, I am reminded that I still have not published the book that is collecting literary dust on my shelf.
And why? Because the same voice that told me to go after my dreams is a hypocrite, telling me all the reasons I might fail.
Recently, I punked out.
I was asked to describe my ideal day and although I knew the answer better than I know the back of my hand, I gave the safe answer. The politically correct answer. I was scared of my audacity to want to live a life on my own terms. A life where the only person I answered to was myself (and my baby).
My dad’s favorite topic of conversation is how he never finished school and he usually rattles off a million reasons why. I know what unresolved regret feels like. Like a sock slipping off the sole of your foot while you’re crossing the street. It’s a fleeting but strong feeling.
I don’t want to wake up six years from now, rummaging through boxes and finding old manuscripts. I don’t want another person to ask me, “whatever happened to that book you were writing?”
This is me being brave. Doing the hard work, having the difficult conversations, and asking questions that may be attached to a “no.”
This is for the dreamers; people who think differently, people who want more than the typical.