Death of a Dream

Tuesday, November 08, 2016

Death of a Dream

Why does a dream die?

For most of my life, I lived each day with one dream in mind: to become a bestselling, published author. In my mind, it was the absolute greatest accomplishment I could ever make, and I wouldn’t be able to define myself as a success until it happened.

But being a super-successful author is no longer my dream.

And I’ve been beginning to wonder if it ever truly was.

A true dream is something worth fighting for. It’s worth all the pain, blood, sweat, and tears. It’s worth all the despair, and failure, and hopelessness. Because at the end of the day, it’s the one thing that makes you feel truly alive.

In the words of that wise philosopher Walt Disney, “A dream is a wish your heart makes.”

But writing wasn’t like that for me. I wasn’t willing to suffer for it. I gave up quickly and easily and often. I wanted to be published, but not because my heart sung at the thought. I wanted to be published because I wanted to be heard and seen and respected. Being a bestselling, published author, I believed, would finally make me a success in the eyes of the world. My self-doubt would disappear. I would be strong, and brave. I would finally have the right to use my voice.

Obviously, the real dream was learning to harness my inner courage, and I didn’t need to become a internationally recognized author to do that.

Writing is still a part of me, obviously. But it’s no longer the avenue toward my definition of success. It’s no longer my dream.

That dream has died.

But here’s the thing about death: it clears the way for rebirth.

A new dream has been born, and this time it’s a dream worth fighting for.

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