22. Your Wildest Dreams Deserve a Chance

The more I've been writing, the harder it's become. Its as though now that I have started this project, I'm scared to finish it because what if I don't get the book finished, or published? What if all this goes no where? I'm used to telling jokes that no one laughs at (mostly because my dogs dont understand the subtleties of my wit) but to put all of this effort out there?

That's why i'm struggling to write as consistently as I want.

"your wildest dreams deserve a chance"

Came across that affirmation the other day and loved it so much I made it my lock screen. Being an author is my wildest dream, but no one is going to write this book for me. And my dream deserves a chance. I have spent so long doing what was expected, what I was told I would ever want, trying to be who I thought they wanted me to be - to finally be free of that and yet be too afraid to try and make one of my deepest/biggest dreams come true? What was it all for then?

Making this change, dropping a bomb in my life, and in the life of my family- it's been insanely hard.

I have to try. I am trying. I am writing. I am putting myself out there because thats the only way this is going to happen.

I see this image on LinkedIn all the time - your first drawing is going to suck. Your first podcast is going to such. Your fist song is going to suck. Your 100th won't, but you cant get there unless you get through the first shiddy one. Something like that - not going to stop and look it up, and since apparently today all I'm doing is writing about how scared I am to write, you can deal with my imperfect recall.

This book deserves a chance. This and the others that I have been working on in my mind for years now - they deserve a chance.

There was someone new in the bar - given that only a small handful of people were there in this intimate lounge, the presence or absence of a single person made a big impact.

The few that were left had none of the superficial petty cattiness dripping with disdain and judgment that the old bar had been rife with.

To describe them - it was like they were a council of elders, despite the youth some presented with.

This group was calmer - less yelling - in fact - almost none. There were passionate discussions, but they remained respectful (for the most part - everyone has a breaking part, even Canadians).

The new arrival both caught the group off guard, and yet didnt disrupt them in the slightest, for this presence didn't enter or exit like they had, rather it was as if a small ball of light had started as a mere ember and slowly grown, both in size and intensity, gradually influencing decisions with greater gravitas the more it grew. It did not get to the point where it was the only influence, but it did get to the point where it held it's fair share of sway.

Most of the others could be seen clearly, the graying hair in a slicked back almost comb-over and the laugh of someone who truly enjoyed their life, to the over processed hair framing a face filled with well-earned smile lines...They were all crystal clear - down to the short sleeved white button down stretched tight across a voluminous belly, and the specific brand of marker (not pen) used.

But not this one. Add that to the list of what made it remarkable.

This light -it was almost like a non-creepy 'ghost of Christmas future' (specifically the one from Mickey's A Christmas Carol) with how it was able to get the point across without a word...

And yet it was so much more. Once the room was accustomed to it's presence, and stopped trying to eject it (new = unknown = scary = a threat = must be rid of it), a warm calmness began to spread.

At first, Nicole dismissed the idea - it seemed crazy!@ And she already had enough going on in her head - she didn't need to add to it. Hell, she had just started to deal with some of her insecurities and take ownership of herself and her capabilities. She was becoming less afraid of being her, even though she didn't yet know what that exactly meant or looked like. She just knew that trying to be someone else - even if that someone else was just the her that she thought people expected her to be - it was exhausting and she couldnt do it anymore. She was burning out, fast.

The walls she had put up, the protections that she had built - each stone in the wall being an insecurity, a thought about who she was inside, that wall was so high and so thich, she didn't know what was behind it anymore.

The burnout was dangerous. Keeping those walls in place took energy and a burnout could... Nicole didn't want to think of what would happen if her walls came down. utter catastrophe she was sure - if not, then what was the point in keeping them built?

No, the world would end if her walls came down and she was exposed. She would go to her dying breath keeping them up.

And she nearly did. The universe - that's what she called it before she knew what it really was - they had already identified her as being key. They also knew she wasn't ready - she was far from it. And she had to fall, to break, so she could change paths - the reality they needed her to live in - that was not accessible if she kept on this path, in this job, with these people in her life. But hot damn was Nicole ever stubborn. She had resisted every whisper, every nudge, every glimpse of an opportunity - the blinders from keeping her walls up preventing her from seeing possibilities.

So, while it was not ideal, but certainly necessary (as they were learning, was a pattern with Nicole), they stopped with the subtleties and forced change.

Nicole was going to burn out, hard. That was the only way forward.