How a Woman Over 60 Finally Made Her Dream Come True

I didn’t need a second chance—I needed to remember the dream I buried decades ago. And now, over 60, I’m finally living it.

The moment I realized my dream come true

When I was 12 years old, I had a white provincial bedroom—complete with a white provincial desk my mother and sister put together for me.

That little desk became my safe place. My daydream shelter. My silent wish machine.

And I remember—clear as the chipped paint on the drawer pulls—sitting there and imagining my own little business. Just me. At home. No bosses. No chaos. No one yelling. No one needing. Just quiet, purpose-filled work. My own rhythm. My own joy. My own damn desk.

That dream got buried.

Because life, of course, came in loud and fast.

At 18, I got married. Then came children.
Then came years of being a preacher’s wife, where my value was measured by how well I served others—not how well I honored myself.
Fast Forward another decade or so, I moved to New York City and ran a business from home that wasn’t mine—it was my husband’s. I was the one who made everything run, but not the one who got to dream.

Those years were followed by a season working from home in a job that wasn’t mine either. I was helping someone else’s vision take flight.

And then, eventually, I declared myself a professional artist. ( 30 years ago) That felt closer. That felt holy. I claimed it with both hands and held on for years. And I did learn so much through that—about truth, about beauty, about voice.

But I still wasn’t sitting at the desk I dreamed of.
Not really.

Because the dream wasn’t just about creating.
It was about sovereignty.

And then…
COVID hit.
And it all crumbled.

I lost my real estate investment. I lost my savings.
I lost my safety net.
And with everything stripped bare, I was left with just one thing:

A white desk.

And no distractions.
No partner to prop up.
No job to hide behind.
No roles to perform.
Just me.
Thinking. Writing. Building. Crying. Rebuilding.
And slowly—brick by brick, word by word—I remembered.

I remembered the dream. I remembered the girl.

And here I am.

Today, I woke up to another paid subscriber on Substack.
That makes 1,075 people subscribed.
Other souls bought my 99-cent PDF while I slept.
And I’m sitting here at this white desk—not to escape the world, but to meet it on my own damn terms.

I am self-employed. I am self-led. I am sustaining myself with my words.
And I didn’t hustle my way here. I aligned my way here.

What I didn’t know at 12—but I know now—is that the white desk was never about the furniture.
It was about the feeling.
The freedom.
The knowing that I could build something of my own, without anyone else’s permission.

If you’re reading this and you feel the flicker of your own forgotten dream, listen closely.
Because the world will never hand you that dream.
But you can remember it.
You can reclaim it.
And you can start—right now—from wherever you sit.

Even if it’s at a chipped-up, paint-stained white desk.

🖤
—Monica

---

Ready for your BREAKTHROUGH?

This is the guide I wish I’d had years ago.

BREAKTHROUGH isn’t theory—it’s built from the wreckage and rebuilding of my own life. After losing everything, I sat at my white desk and began putting the pieces back together. What came out of that season is this guide.

Inside, you’ll find:

• The exact mindset shifts that brought me from chaos to calm

• The soul-level clarity that helped me stop spiraling and start choosing

• Prompts, truths, and fierce reminders to help you reclaim your voice

• And a new framework for living with sovereignty, peace, and power—no matter what your past holds

I wrote this because I lived it.
If you’re tired of circling the same old patterns…
If you know something inside you is ready to break free…

This is your moment.
This is your BREAKTHROUGH.

Now just $14.
Because your second act doesn’t need to be expensive—just true.

👉 YOUR BREAKTHROUGH