I mentioned in my last blog post that I am, at times, disappointed in myself. The logical part of me knows this is silly. I have two beautiful kids,(especially right now since they're napping), I got to graduate from college, I live in a nice home, am married to my high school sweetheart...It is a pretty sweet set up honestly. But deep inside of me there is still a tug. Some days it is is a small nudge, and others it is an overwhelming pull-like I am on the losing end of a tug-of-war game. It is the strong, ever-present throbbing of a "dream deferred".
Perhaps it is due to my rather indulged childhood, or being raised in a generation that taught high self-esteem over honesty. Maybe everyone starts out this way and I just never outgrew it. Maybe I am special. But, truly, I have always believed I would be someone. The kind of someone that changed things. I always knew that I would awaken minds, warm souls, and challenge the norms. I always felt I had more to offer than my small town could handle, that one day I would break out and emerge-a swan done being an ugly duckling. It isn't about money or fame so much as it is about validation. That people would hear what I had to say and nod in agreement and shed tears of clarity. My mom would say how proud she was or maybe even my dad...I am not sure I have ever heard him say those words to anyone-let alone me.
As I have gotten older, I have gotten better at ignoring this voice. I am too busy, too practical, too old, too responsible. As the old adage goes "If you don't want to do something you will always be able to find a reason." But still, sometimes I lie awake at night and ask myself, "When will you make your move?" I am lost as to what my move even is, so this is a difficult question. Maybe to write a book? I have always wanted to do that...But my fear of failure keeps me from even beginning. What if the story I have longed to tell the world, my masterpiece, my quintessence is average? Or even bad? What if noone reads it? What if I can't even finish? I then carefully brush the dream aside and continue trying to forget that I used to believe I was special.
But today I got a message. It was from an old friend-more of an acquaintance really. It thanked me for my last blog post. He shared with me that he and his wife were going through some things and that they took comfort in knowing that noone was perfect and that they were not alone. I smiled and tears welled up in my eyes. Perhaps I am not ready to change the world with the great american novel, perhaps I never will be. But maybe if I follow my heart and share my own truth, I can make a difference in one person's world, and maybe that's enough...at least for now.
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