Sometimes I get so caught up in being a mom and a wife and a employee that I forget before I was all of these things, I was a person with amazing dreams.
I’d actually say the truth is closer to me forgetting that person is still in there somewhere
My life has become very predictable. I basically do the same things day in and day out. This isn’t a bad thing, per se, there is something nice about stability, and it’s especially good for little kids. But I haven’t been feeling particularly happy lately (and by lately I mean for the past several months), and I think this hum drum lilt my life has taken is partially to blame.
I used to be this person with a thirst for life, with huge dreams and ambitions. I wanted to see things, do things, change things. And I’m not really sure what happened. I’d like to say pregnancy and motherhood happened, but this started before A was ever thought of. I think somewhere along the way, I got scared. Scared of trying, scared of failing. I don’t want to live my life afraid of doing things, and I don’t want to teach my daughter to live in fear of new experiences.
I want to be the person I was before, the person with all the dreams. And even more importantly, I want to live out those dreams.
Last night I took the first step in living one of my dreams.
BACKSTORY: A few years ago I read this book, and it started a strange fascination with rock climbing and mountaineering I never knew I had in me. Since then, I’ve read countless books on the subject and watched every Everest or mountain documentary on Netflix. I’ve even planned out the order I’d attempt the Seven Summits in. It’s become a little bit of a quiet obsession, a secret wish. I don’t really talk much about for fear of laughter and ridicule.
A couple weeks ago I started watching Destination Truth on Netflix (total nerd alert, I know). Being the dork I am, I bought and read Josh Gates‘ book, Destination Truth: Memoirs of a Monster Hunter. His honest discussion of how climbing Kilimanjaro changed the path of his life made me realize I need to do something to change the course of mine, and I need to do it quickly.
So last night I went to an indoor rock climbing gym. I know, it’s not exactly Kilimanjaro, but it’s a first step, albeit a baby step, in what I hope to be a very long journey.
I’m not going to lie, I was excited and terrified all day yesterday, and I almost called off the whole thing several times. But I’m happy I did it, because I genuinely enjoyed it. The first time I reached the top of the wall, it felt like I was summit-ing my own personal Everest.
I know a lot of people would say you need to give up these types of dreams when you become a mom. Some might even call this selfish, but I disagree with these sentiments. I want to do and see these amazing things, but I want to share them with A.
After all, how can we teach our kids to follow their dreams if we aren’t willing to follow our own?