Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘dream’

‎We are taught to reach for the stars, to dream big, the world is our oyster, anything is possible. I want to believe it, I really do, but sometimes it just feels like too much pressure.

Find where you belong, follow your joy, search for happiness. I want to, believe me, except I don’t even know where to start.

Instead I’m thinking that maybe, for me, I need to start dreaming smaller. I need to break all of the big things down into little bits, easily digestible and perhaps, more easily achieved.

These days I feel like I need a win. It doesn’t have to be a big win, nothing life-changing or earth-shattering. But it needs to be something. I need something to start it all off, something to show me which is the right direction, something that months from now when I’m well on my way I can turn back to and point and say, “there, that moment, that decision, that success, that’s what started it all.”

I need a beginning.

I have tried, believe me. I feel like the last few months have been a lot of trying and very, very little succeeding. And I’m not going to lie, it’s been disheartening. Some days I feel like I’m standing in a long hallway filled with nothing but locked doors. Right now I need one to be open, even just a crack, so I can see a different way.

I’ve been trying to dream big, to imagine what I would want if I could have anything at all that I could wish for. I thought that if I could see what I wanted the end to look like, it would be easier to figure out the steps to get there. It doesn’t seem to have worked out that way.

So now I think I’ll start dreaming smaller in the hopes that my little dreams will prove more achievable. At this point I just need to feel some tangible form of success, something I can hold in my hands and point to and use to fortify myself to take the next step.

Maybe if I don’t have to reach so far, I won’t keep coming up short.

Advertisements

Read Full Post »

When I was younger I spent a large portion of my time daydreaming.  Staring out the car window, doodling in a school notebook, lying in my bed.  I would make up intricate, detailed stories and scenarios depending on what was at the forefront of my mind at the time.

Luke Perry coming to my house on his motorcycle to tell me I’m the one (the original 90210 played a huge role during my formative early teen years).  Traveling to Venice, Paris, London, going to the Olympics as part of the Canadian women gymnastics team, and on, and on, and on.

When I got a bit older I would daydream about going away to university and all the wonderful adventures I would have; then meeting and falling in love, not with a fantasy man but rather with someone to spend my life with; then what our life together would look like, engagement, marriage, kids.

After my daughter arrived, there was no time for daydreaming.  Every moment of the day and night was taken up with her needs.  When I would finally fall into bed I would be too exhausted to daydream; too spent to do anything but close my eyes and hope for sleep to come.  My mind would be full of thoughts of the coming hours – when will she need to eat again? What else can I try to get her to sleep longer? Do we have enough diapers to get through tomorrow? Did I remember to put water in the sterilizer before I put it in the microwave?  I couldn’t look past the next feed, the next nap, the next breath.

I’m past all of that now.  My kids are old enough to entertain themselves and sleep through the night (most of the time) so, theoretically, I now have time to once again get lost in my day dreams.

Only I think I’ve forgotten how.

My sense of realism often gets in the way of my daydreams.  I critique myself for wasting my time creating stories in my head.  When I was 14 it never bothered me that Luke Perry was probably not going to show up at my house, the idea of daydreaming about it was because it was fun, not because it was realistic.

But now I can’t seem to get past it.  I try and daydream about trips I may or may not take, jobs I may or may not get, books I may or may not write, and my inner voice feels the need to jump in and tell me it’s never going to happen.

Except then I remind myself that sometimes daydreams to come true.  I dreamt about moving away to go to school and it happened.  I dreamt about meeting “the one” and having him love me back, and it happened.  I dreamt about getting married, having a family and the home we would live in together, and it happened.

My life is proof that sometimes daydreaming isn’t about creating stories that will never happen, but is instead about laying out plans for what I want the future to look like; making a plan for what to strive for.

It’s time to start daydreaming again.

Maybe it won’t end up looking just the way I’ve imagined it, but maybe it will.  And wouldn’t that be pretty great?

Read Full Post »