daring to dream

When you were little, what did you dream?

Did you dream about the perfect husband, with a cute little house, a baby carriage and a dog?

I did.

And I didn't.

Sometimes I dreamt that I was this great adventurer, or explorer, or inventor? Or that I would cure some important disease. Or that I would be a famous singer (that sooo didn't happen!) That everyone would know my name and it would be up in lights. My face would be in magazines and I would be interviewed on television. That I would be important.

And I grew up.

And the fear took over.

I took the safe route. The path that had already been cleared of all the big rocks and dangerous cliffs. I let the whisper of fear talk me right out of those adventurous dreams. I took a talent that I had and went with it. I wasn't brave, I wasn't courageous. I found myself a cozy little corner of the world and snuggled myself down into it.

Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not unhappy. I love my husband and my house and my dogs. But I don't always love my job. I live it and I like it, but it isn't my passion. It's a paycheck and one I am grateful to have, but I wish sometimes that I hadn't let the fear keep me away from something bigger. Something more.

But now I want to be brave.

And I am scared.

This isn't really the economy to be brave and step out, so I'm taking baby steps. Teeny-tiny little baby steps that inch me forward.

I want to write. A book. A book that people will read and love. I think I can do it.

And I don't want to be scared to do it. I don't want to hear those whispers that tell me that it won't be good enough. I want to push aside the doubts and let my imagination run away with itself.

Did life always turn out the way you planned? Was there something else out there that you saw and thought "that could be me?" Did the doubt get you too? How did you get through it?