I told a friend of mine that I’d write a post for him. This is it.
What did you want to be when you were young? Don’t laugh–I’m serious. What was it that you wanted most? Did you put forth effort to do it, or did you begin to dream a different dream? Do you remember what it was like when you thought you could do anything?
I do.
What is your limit?
I remember believing that if I tried hard enough, I could do anything. I could be anything. The world was an open door, and all I had to do was walk into it.
And then reality hit–brutally. I don’t want to speak ill of my family, so I’ll remain nonspecific. Suffice it to say that in my family, only one person ever believed in me; all the others were verbally the opposite. I learned at a young age that we have limits. No matter how much you want something, it may not even matter because you have limits.
“Talent” is a lie we sell ourselves to avoid hard work.
What stands between you and your dream? Talent? Talent is a meaningless word to me–it is easily beaten by dedication and hard work. “Talent” is your initial aptitude for something, I’d say. Working at it makes you truly good at your craft; there is simply no substitute for it.
In this life, I never had a doubt that I could not achieve what I most wanted. I gave up on my dreams when I was a child. I allowed people in my family to belittle and discourage them; I allowed an abusive boyfriend to tear them apart as well. I allowed virtually everyone to tell me that these dreams were worthless, and that even thinking about them was an utter waste of time.
Worse yet, I believed them. I believed every single thing they told me.
So I was desolate–I survived every day to the best of my ability. I did what I ‘should do.’ I became an adult.
And quit.
It wasn’t my first time being a quitter. I quit on all my dreams. I quit on a college major in favor of something “easier.” I quit on a marriage. I quit on good friends who really didn’t deserve it. Time and time again, I quit–until finally, I quit on myself.
Years passed. How many? Ten–an entire decade of quitting.
I am nearing the end of the Decade of Quitting now–and I am honestly trying to stand back up. I want to try again. I don’t want to quit. I want to pursue my dreams.
I want to apologize to myself.. I want to tell myself that I am sorry for giving up on myself. It never should have happened this way.
The only person I ever needed to believe in me was me. No one else should have the power to control your dreams.
And that, my friend, is why you are here.
You must learn from my mistakes.
You must never, ever quit on yourself; there’s simply too much at stake. You wonder about who you are or why you are, but you already know the answer.
Stop being afraid of failure. Failing is nothing. If you failed, you tried–and if you tried, you can try again. If you never try, there is no “next time.”
The pursuit of happiness is a waste of time. No matter how much I myself would love to chase that dream, it’s a waste. Do I want to be happy? Of course. We all do.
But saying you want to chase happiness is like saying you want to chase good health–while having no idea what is healthy and what isn’t. How can you pursue that when you don’t know what will give it to you?
Pursue yourself.
Pursue what makes your heart beat faster. Pursue what sets you on fire. I want you to try so hard that you can’t see anything else because I know you can do it.
It’s time to get up. It’s time to go.
I’ll be 30 years old next month. After the Decade of Quitting, this will be the Decade of Doing. Come with me.
Tell me your story, what you’ve faced, where you’re going because it matters. You matter.
It’s cliche, but no one else can dream the dream you’re dreaming (say it five times fast).
Three months ago, I was still quitting. Now, I’m failing–but I’m so much happier with failing than I ever was with quitting.