This is EXCELLENT Monica. I do not remember having dreams as a child. I was focused on survival. In my teens, I escaped the mundane and the loneliness by sketching and painting. During my later years in high school, after going to Europe, I dreamed of travel, of exploration, of adventure. But most importantly for me, I wanted someone to do those things with. I lacked the confidence to believe I could make my own dreams come true. 48 years later, I have finally realized that some dreams may not come true. But that's okay. I no longer have to climb the mountain towards goals. Daily life is the journey to enjoy, not look to what may happen or may not in the future. Being grateful for what I have and adding beauty around me may just be enough.
This is so honest and deeply moving—thank you for sharing it.
That line—“I do not remember having dreams as a child. I was focused on survival.”
That hits me in the gut. So many of us didn’t have the luxury of dreaming—we were just trying to make it through. And yet, you found art. You found sketching and painting. You found beauty even in the middle of the ache. That’s not small. That’s sacred.
And this?
“Daily life is the journey to enjoy, not look to what may happen or may not in the future.”
Yes. Yes. That’s the gold. That’s the liberation we spend decades circling back to. You are no longer chasing the dream—you’re living the depth of it. With presence. With gratitude. With beauty in arm’s reach.
Some dreams shift form. Others were never ours to begin with. But your essence? That longing to create, to explore, to feel not alone—that’s still alive, and it’s showing up now in the most grounded, gorgeous way.
You didn’t miss it.
You’re just walking it differently than you imagined.
What did I love before the world told me who to be? playing. snuggling. but mostly being outside all day playing gods and goddesses with barbara and ann. watching red skelton, danny kaye, sunday comics on dad's lap.
What would feel like freedom—even just for today? being totally secure. financially and emotionally. like when i was a kid. before cell phones. before pay checks. before cars. before boys. just laying in the grass beside the lake. doing nothing.
What would I do if I stopped asking for permission? just decompress for a month. stretch. run.
You didn’t just answer those questions—you remembered yourself.
Playing gods and goddesses in the yard, curled up for Sunday comics, safe in the softness of your father’s lap. That version of you knew something we forget: freedom doesn’t always look like achievement. Sometimes it looks like peace.
Laying in the grass. Doing nothing. Not striving or proving or pleasing—just being.
And that last line?
“If I stopped asking for permission, I’d decompress for a month.”
Yes. Yes to that. That’s not laziness. That’s soul repair.
This is EXCELLENT Monica. I do not remember having dreams as a child. I was focused on survival. In my teens, I escaped the mundane and the loneliness by sketching and painting. During my later years in high school, after going to Europe, I dreamed of travel, of exploration, of adventure. But most importantly for me, I wanted someone to do those things with. I lacked the confidence to believe I could make my own dreams come true. 48 years later, I have finally realized that some dreams may not come true. But that's okay. I no longer have to climb the mountain towards goals. Daily life is the journey to enjoy, not look to what may happen or may not in the future. Being grateful for what I have and adding beauty around me may just be enough.
This is so honest and deeply moving—thank you for sharing it.
That line—“I do not remember having dreams as a child. I was focused on survival.”
That hits me in the gut. So many of us didn’t have the luxury of dreaming—we were just trying to make it through. And yet, you found art. You found sketching and painting. You found beauty even in the middle of the ache. That’s not small. That’s sacred.
And this?
“Daily life is the journey to enjoy, not look to what may happen or may not in the future.”
Yes. Yes. That’s the gold. That’s the liberation we spend decades circling back to. You are no longer chasing the dream—you’re living the depth of it. With presence. With gratitude. With beauty in arm’s reach.
Some dreams shift form. Others were never ours to begin with. But your essence? That longing to create, to explore, to feel not alone—that’s still alive, and it’s showing up now in the most grounded, gorgeous way.
You didn’t miss it.
You’re just walking it differently than you imagined.
And it’s still beautiful.
What did I love before the world told me who to be? playing. snuggling. but mostly being outside all day playing gods and goddesses with barbara and ann. watching red skelton, danny kaye, sunday comics on dad's lap.
What would feel like freedom—even just for today? being totally secure. financially and emotionally. like when i was a kid. before cell phones. before pay checks. before cars. before boys. just laying in the grass beside the lake. doing nothing.
What would I do if I stopped asking for permission? just decompress for a month. stretch. run.
You didn’t just answer those questions—you remembered yourself.
Playing gods and goddesses in the yard, curled up for Sunday comics, safe in the softness of your father’s lap. That version of you knew something we forget: freedom doesn’t always look like achievement. Sometimes it looks like peace.
Laying in the grass. Doing nothing. Not striving or proving or pleasing—just being.
And that last line?
“If I stopped asking for permission, I’d decompress for a month.”
Yes. Yes to that. That’s not laziness. That’s soul repair.