✨ Still Dreaming: Honoring the Life I Wanted & Building the One I Need
A soft reimagining of what it means to grow without giving up
I’ve spent most of my life dreaming—little dreams, big dreams, full-blown delusions of grandeur. And those dreams? They shaped me. They carried me through fear and instability, gave me something to hold onto when everything else felt too heavy to carry. I didn’t always know where I was going, but dreaming gave me motion. Gave me hope.
And even now, with a 9-to-5, a calendar full of obligations, and an ever-present desire for stability in a world that feels like it’s unraveling—I haven’t let go of those dreams. Not really. I’ve just learned how to hold them differently.
They’re still here. They’ve just softened. Rooted deeper. Shifted shape to match the life I’m building now. Because I’m starting to realize: I don’t have to let go of the dream to make space for what I need. I can hold both.
The version of me who used to chase freedom like her life depended on it? She still lives here. I’m just making sure she finally has a soft place to land.
🗺️ What I Was Running Toward
A younger version of me chased freedom in every direction—because honestly, it was survival. My world felt chaotic, and I was desperate for something bigger, brighter, more mine. Dreaming gave me a sense of control when everything else felt uncertain. I built entire identities around the lives I wanted to live.
And okay, no—I’m not 21 anymore. That full-throttle, wild-eyed, romantic urgency isn’t sustainable. But that doesn’t mean the dreams were wrong. It doesn’t mean I’ve outgrown them.
They’re still inside me—just as honest, just as true.
They’re not naïve. They’re directional.
They remind me what matters.
Dreaming gave me permission to imagine more for myself. And even if I don’t chase it the same way, I’m still following that map—just with more care and fewer crash landings.
🪨 Building the Foundation First
I don’t have a trust fund. I don’t live rent-free. I don’t have a built-in safety net.
What I do have: a life I’m responsible for—pets to care for, bills to pay, a body and spirit that need tending.
So, I adapted.
I built a stable foundation not because I gave up on dreaming, but because I needed something steady enough to support it. I needed a container strong enough to hold all the wildness I carry.
And you know what’s surprising?
The life I was so afraid of—the one that looked boring or small or safe—has become a quiet kind of joy.
There’s strength in a fridge that’s always full.
In a home that’s soft.
In a body that’s cared for.
In the time I carve out—not just for rest, but for play.
No, I can’t spend every waking hour chasing my dream. But I can build a life that makes space for it. That honors it. That lets it breathe.
And that counts for something.
🌿 Holding Both: The Dream and the Day Job
I used to think needing stability meant I was settling. Like I had to choose: art or security, dreams or structure.
But the truth? That either/or mindset is the real trap.
It’s okay to need a paycheck. To need insurance. To want peace.
And it’s also okay to want more.
The in-between—the space where I feel both content and restless—isn’t a failure. It’s a season. A middle space where I can catch my breath without giving up the spark that got me here in the first place.
I can want the freedom to create and the steadiness to not burn out.
And these days, that thread between dreaming and daily life?
That’s where I live. Somewhere between making rent and making meaning.
🎨 Where Dreams Go to Mature
I used to think a desk job would kill my dreams.
Turns out, it’s where they grow up.
I still write. I still sing. I still make weird art and dream about new cities and secret little projects.
But now I do it from a place that’s rooted.
It’s not about the pace anymore—it’s about the presence.
I’m not chasing dopamine. I’m cultivating joy.
I’m not performing struggle. I’m nurturing creative energy.
And that impulsive, starry-eyed version of me who wanted everything?
She’s still here.
But now she has better boundaries.
Now she eats three meals a day and takes naps and remembers to drink water.
Now she makes art because she wants to, not because she’s trying to prove anything.
I’m not leaving her behind. I’m building her a safer place to exist.
🌙 Softly, Steadily, Still Dreaming
Maybe the dream doesn’t look the way I thought it would.
Maybe it’s softer. Slower. Less chaotic and more intentional.
But it’s still mine.
And that matters.
I’m still dreaming—just without the pressure to burn it all down to feel alive.
I’m still creating—without needing the struggle to validate it.
I’m still reaching—for meaning, for freedom, for beauty—but now I do it with steadier hands.
The version of me that wanted something more?
She got me here.
And now it’s my turn to carry her gently into what’s next.
✨ Weekly Mantra
“I haven’t given up on the dream. I’m learning how to build it slowly, on my terms.”
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