I want to talk about the dreams we shelve, those aspirations we tuck away in the attic of our hearts while we're busy building a life for someone else.
For me, that someone else was my son. And for about eighteen, maybe nineteen years, my answer to "Who are you?" was simple: "I'm his mom." That was my identity, my purpose, my everything. He still is my everything, just in a different way now.
It’s funny, isn't it? When he left home, someone asked me that question again: "Who are you?" Hmmm, that was a mighty fine question! I didn't have an answer ready anymore. It wasn't because I hadn't dreamed before him. Lawd no.
Back when I was a junior in high school, I had a very specific dream: I wanted to be an 11th grade trigonometry teacher. Now, don't misunderstand, it wasn't the numbers or the angles that captivated me so much. It was the desk and all the paperwork (yeah, I was and still am a huge nerd and I love it). I used to practice signing my name before I even knew cursive, making those squiggly lines and ending with a loud "dot dot dot!" just so everyone knew I was signing something very important. It was the idea of order, of having a place, of making a mark.
Life took a different turn, as it often does. College wasn't the path I chose then; instead, I got pregnant with my son. I absolutely LOVED being an active mother. Every talk, every cry, every shared moment is a memory I cling to. If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't be here, in more ways than one. I swear, even before I met him, just knowing I'd be his mother changed my life for the better.
But here’s the thing about putting yourself on pause: sometimes, when the reason for the pause is no longer there, you’re left with all that empty space.
When my son started driving, a different kind of freedom emerged for him, and for me, it was a slippery slope. That's when I started drinking, and things got ugly real fast. I've always said I'd rather die than have my son look at me without respect, and there were times when my own choices devastated me because I thought I was losing his respect. It was a hard road, one of many I seem to prefer to travel, but we're in a good place now. A really good place.
Now, if you know me at all, you know I put way too much stock into what people think about me. My anxiety can skyrocket if someone close to me is angry. I'm a people-pleaser, what can I say? And after my son moved out, I made some other major changes. Lord knows, if they’d gone perfectly, I wouldn't have learned half the things I know today. Like I always say, YOLO—you only live once, for those of y'all who might need a reminder! And keeping things interesting? That's definitely my MO.
This latest hard road, though, has been particularly tough to navigate because, for the very first time in my life, I only had myself to rely on. No family or long-time friend and no little one to hide behind, just me. And that's where my deepest dream truly lies now: to learn to love myself unconditionally, as much as I love my son. To find peace and joy in my soul, even when everyone around me might disagree with my path, or when their opinions used to crush me.
So, here I am. My dream now is to figure those things out, and I'm doing it. I'm coming out of my shell and stepping into the world, imperfectly and honestly, right here with this blog. These are the dreams I put on pause, now dusted off and ready to be lived.
What dreams have you put on pause? Are you dusting any off now? I'd truly love to hear about it.
For me, that someone else was my son. And for about eighteen, maybe nineteen years, my answer to "Who are you?" was simple: "I'm his mom." That was my identity, my purpose, my everything. He still is my everything, just in a different way now.
It’s funny, isn't it? When he left home, someone asked me that question again: "Who are you?" Hmmm, that was a mighty fine question! I didn't have an answer ready anymore. It wasn't because I hadn't dreamed before him. Lawd no.
Back when I was a junior in high school, I had a very specific dream: I wanted to be an 11th grade trigonometry teacher. Now, don't misunderstand, it wasn't the numbers or the angles that captivated me so much. It was the desk and all the paperwork (yeah, I was and still am a huge nerd and I love it). I used to practice signing my name before I even knew cursive, making those squiggly lines and ending with a loud "dot dot dot!" just so everyone knew I was signing something very important. It was the idea of order, of having a place, of making a mark.
Life took a different turn, as it often does. College wasn't the path I chose then; instead, I got pregnant with my son. I absolutely LOVED being an active mother. Every talk, every cry, every shared moment is a memory I cling to. If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't be here, in more ways than one. I swear, even before I met him, just knowing I'd be his mother changed my life for the better.
But here’s the thing about putting yourself on pause: sometimes, when the reason for the pause is no longer there, you’re left with all that empty space.
When my son started driving, a different kind of freedom emerged for him, and for me, it was a slippery slope. That's when I started drinking, and things got ugly real fast. I've always said I'd rather die than have my son look at me without respect, and there were times when my own choices devastated me because I thought I was losing his respect. It was a hard road, one of many I seem to prefer to travel, but we're in a good place now. A really good place.
Now, if you know me at all, you know I put way too much stock into what people think about me. My anxiety can skyrocket if someone close to me is angry. I'm a people-pleaser, what can I say? And after my son moved out, I made some other major changes. Lord knows, if they’d gone perfectly, I wouldn't have learned half the things I know today. Like I always say, YOLO—you only live once, for those of y'all who might need a reminder! And keeping things interesting? That's definitely my MO.
This latest hard road, though, has been particularly tough to navigate because, for the very first time in my life, I only had myself to rely on. No family or long-time friend and no little one to hide behind, just me. And that's where my deepest dream truly lies now: to learn to love myself unconditionally, as much as I love my son. To find peace and joy in my soul, even when everyone around me might disagree with my path, or when their opinions used to crush me.
So, here I am. My dream now is to figure those things out, and I'm doing it. I'm coming out of my shell and stepping into the world, imperfectly and honestly, right here with this blog. These are the dreams I put on pause, now dusted off and ready to be lived.
What dreams have you put on pause? Are you dusting any off now? I'd truly love to hear about it.
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