What if I’m allowed to dream big?
I am letting myself get fired up by a self-help book, although maybe we don’t have to call it a self-help book, I don’t know.
The book is called Professional Troublemaker and its author is a woman I have loosely admired for years but never actually followed closely until recently, and now that I am reading her longform writing I am both inspired and jealous, because Luvvie Ajayi Jones is one year younger than me, and she has achieved many of my dreams.
On the plus side, she is also encouraging me to go after those dreams.
My life in 2017 was so challenging. That August I was newly unemployed and suddenly alone, because the person I thought I would marry had just dumped me. (Well technically he asked for a four-month break, but, that’s a whole other story.)
Four years later, I’ve been married for 3.5 years and have a 16-month-old son. My life is still challenging, but in very different ways, and with very different validations.
During the fall of four years ago, I did so much good work. I became so sure of myself, who I was and who I wanted to be. That confidence was hard won, and it was effective—I know it’s largely why I have the miraculous life I have now.
But getting married, and especially having a baby, has put a strain on my identity. Not because I’ve ever actually lost sight of who I am or who I want to be, but just, like…timing. Circumstances. Choices I made because of my partnership or parenting that I would have done differently on my own.
And I commend myself for still trying—the fact that I had a place to come put these words is proof that I still believe there is larger purpose for my writing. I wouldn’t have started this (newsletter? mommy blog?) if I didn’t believe it was worthwhile to share what I am thinking and feeling.
It’s just, I don’t see where exactly it will lead me. Now I’m aware of two people I admire/am jealous of who basically launched their careers by blogging (Glennon Doyle and Luvvi Ajayi Jones), and it’s like, what, do I think I can do the same thing? Who do I think I am to even dream that big?
Except, who cares? What does it hurt me to dream? Who does it hurt if I succeed? Why can’t I believe in my professional dreams with the same focus and intensity I believed in my personal ones? My husband and son are testament to my manifesting ability. I know I am an excellent partner and mother. Who else will I allow myself to be?
Love > fear,
(M)om
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