I Watered The Wrong Thing For 18 Years

This is one of the most embarrassing things I've grappled with for the past decade or so...I've never not struggled financially as an adult.

Money has felt like a portal to filling in the gaps. I hoped that, if I presented a certain way or showered people with abundance, they would finally see me and accept me.

Every time money flowed to me, I found every which way but Sunday to get rid of it.

At the ripe age of 18, I was thrust into adulthood during a recession. After being sold a pipe dream that college would be taken care of, I found out quickly that this was not going to be the case. In the spirit of perseverance, I refused to let that be the reason to quit on this path.

For many years prior, my scholarly skills and intelligence were praised. Quitting such a big endeavor like college, before getting started, felt like identity suicide.

I look back on my college-age self, absolutely enamored by her resourcefulness and scrappy way of pulling basic needs together. Even with $5 in my bank account for the week, and feeling torn between should I buy food, or gas to get to work - I teamed up with a group of friends, and we would whip up a big batch of Hamburger Helper and sit together for meals.

A good lesson in the power of community!

18 years later, I've sat with this continued struggle. Why have I not been able to get out of the poverty range in my income? How could someone with so much potential live such a limited life?

Then it hit me. I've been in a state of lost because of one moment.

This moment birthed, what I'd like to call, a quiet trauma. It wasn't as loud as physical or sexual abuse. It didn't involve screaming or bruises. It was the kind that quietly rooted itself deeper with each thought of doubt and failure.

Someone rooted something in me, and I continued to water it and keep it alive.

Before landing on a major, I had this vision of becoming a journalist. The way they could bring someone's story to life, and how they communicated with such confidence captivated me.

I'd spent 3 years in high school training myself to feel safe in social situations. For context, I had dealt with crippling social anxiety that manifested in my 7th grade year after two boys bullied me for having a strong nose, (jokes on them, because this nose is now trending across social media!).

I remember standing in a bustling hallway in high school, talking to a boy I liked, and everything went dark. I felt my body standing. I felt myself speaking. As my vision went black, I felt myself stuttering over my words.

Another instance, I was presenting in front of class, and the same thing happened. My body started trembling, sweat started to gather on my back, my throat tightened - and I grasped ahold of the podium as my vision went black.

By the end of the presentation, every inch of my body was screaming for safety.

So the thought of being confident in my communication with others, it felt like the final puzzle piece to this social anxiety unraveling.

Before going off to college, I excitedly shared this vision with my mom. This was such a big venture - it was my dream! She had always supported me, encouraging me to be the first one in both sides of my family to go to college. She knew how smart I was.

But I was met with, "You can't make money with that". "It's a hobby".

What I heard: "Dreams won't get you anywhere. Do what's safe".

Little did I know, this invalidation would lead me down a path of chronic confusion and money troubles from constantly trying to fill that visionary gap in my chest.

Throughout my college career I majored in: nutrition, spanish, psychology, then finally had to choose something when my college told me my credit hour rate would increase. Sociology was the thing I landed on.

Did I know what I wanted to do with it? No. The only thing I knew was that I loved learning about societal patterns and what made groups tick.

I made a choice because I felt the pressure to just choose something already. No future plan. No vision. Really, no hope.

Managing the Hooters I'd worked at for 3 years felt like a much better option than leaving college and hoping to find a job that paid enough.

I've spent 18 years without hope. Without vision. Without clarity or direction. Aimlessly flittering from one job to the next, with a plethora of lay-offs in the mix.

Pursuing coaching was the first career move that I made that actually excited me. After 7 years working in 1:1 containers and learning about how the human mind ticks, I've found myself clonking my head on a glass ceiling. Where do I go from here? What do I want to do? How do I pry myself from, yet another, paycheck-to-paycheck situation?

This isn't a story of failure. Far from! Initiations are the wildest, twisting path you'll ever take. You'll find yourself so deep in your own drowning that you have no other option but to learn how to swim.

I'm excited to say that I'm finally honoring that 18-year-old girl, with her big dreams and intuitively-led "delusion". She was told to play small because big felt scary to her mom.

The ones closest to us, who love us the most, are the first ones to project their own fears and insecurities on us. Some people let this sink them in their lives. Then one day, they wake up at 65 wondering what the hell happened to them.

I felt this recent tug at my heart to learn more about the art of storytelling, and how to communicate and articulate big thoughts into something useful. 36 years old and learning how to speak for the first time!

What do journalists do? Communicate, articulate, and tell stories.

While the dream of being a journalist lives far, far away in my rearview mirror, the person I've always wanted to be...she still lives within me. An artifact of my soul.

No matter who told you that success and pleasure, or purpose, can't exist in the same sentence told you that because someone told them the same thing. Or, something happened in their life that had them choose between responsibility and the big vision.

You, my friend, you're the change maker. Your yes to your dreams is a reclamation for every single person who walked before you and put their dreams aside.

Even if those around you project their fears and worries onto you, keep going. You get to show them that dreams are allowed to breathe and exist. Success is allowed to fulfill your heart and dump joy into your life.

And all the years your dreams had to wait...it's not lost time. Your delay refined you to be the best version to see your dreams through.

20-something year old me would've taken the dream so far.

This version, she's going to take it to its fullest potential.