We all have dreams. Desires to do something, to be something. A gift within us that we want to develop, that we desperately want to express, but we talk ourselves out of it. It may not be something huge, like becoming a movie star. It may be learning to cook really well for your family. Learning to sing. Starting a small business. Or if you’re me, writing a book.
Whatever your dream is, we all meet a moment (or multiple moments, really) when that dream requires us to put ourselves out there and risk being seen as desperate, not quite talented enough—weird, or boring.
What are you going to do with that moment? Most people give up before giving in to vulnerability. They convince themselves that somebody has already done it, or is doing it better.
But here’s the thing. You don’t have to compare yourselves to them. You are not them. And no one really wants you to be. Or at least, the people who matter don’t. You have something unique to offer. Even if on paper you are doing the same thing that has been done a million times over.
Here’s a thought: What if following your dream isn’t about them? What if it’s only about you? And what if following your dream isn’t even about the dream itself, but what you’ll experience as you bravely reach towards it?
If actively following your dream is about the experience of getting there and not a pre-determined end point, so what if you put yourself out there? What’s the worst that could happen? People see a little bit of your heart, a piece of your truest self. You learn what you’re made of, what makes you tick. You feel the fulfillment of progression, of becoming what, in the deepest crevices of your heart, you always wanted to be. You finally start doing what makes you happy.
I don’t think it even matters if you’re the best at it. It only matters that you enjoy it.
Why do we stop ourselves from doing things that make us happy for fear of what someone might think of us? Do something for me. Think of your worst critic. The person who pops into your head when you consider taking a step towards your dream—towards risking and being vulnerable. The person who you wonder, “What will they think? What will they say?” Guess what? That person is probably going to love what you do the most. They’ll love it so much that they’ll hate you for it (hello, jealousy), and maybe even make some snide remark at your attempt to follow your dreams. I want you to imagine yourself telling that critic (who, ironically, might even be yourself), “I don’t care what you think.” And mean it. Then move on. Maybe this sounds a bit silly. But if you really want to do something, I just don’t think you have the luxury to allow other people’s negativity (or fear of their negativity) influence your thoughts and your actions.
Have you read “Big Magic” by “Eat, Pray, Love” author Elizabeth Gilbert? I picked it up half an hour ago and am a fourth of the way through because I am just eating up every one of her words like they’re my favorite dessert. (Which is in actuality strawberry shortcake, in case you were wondering.) Elizabeth has been one of my writing heroes for a long time. I love her style—bold, clear, witty. And I love what she talks about in “Big Magic.” There are already so many underlined sentences and side notes in the margin of my new book (a very pretty one, I might add), but here’s one passage that I think sums up what we’re all trying to do (or what I hope we’re all trying to do) so well:
“Life is short and amazing and miraculous, and you want to do really interesting things and make really interesting things while you’re still here. I know that’s what you want for yourself, because that’s what I want for myself too. It’s what we all want. And you have treasures inside you—extraordinary treasures—and so do I, and so does everyone around us. And bringing those treasures to light takes work and faith and focus and courage and hours of devotion, and the clock is ticking, and the world is spinning, and we simply do not have time anymore to think so small.”
So I’ll leave you with those delicious, inspiring words and add mine to them: Dream bravely, my friends. You’ll thank yourself for it.
Thank you, Kimmy. You have inspired me to dream again.