“If your dream ain’t bigger than you, there’s a problem with your dream.”
~ Deion Sanders
I’ve always been a dreamer … well so I thought. I realize now that while I tend to have many dreams, I haven’t been dreaming in color. In the grand scheme of things, my dreams have been small, short-sighted, menial in a way. I know, I know … no dream is too small and all that jazz, but I must disagree. If you think or dream small for yourself – or for your life – then you’re painting yourself into a small box and if you choose to try and bust out of that box at some point, there’s no room in your old box to grow. Unknowingly, that’s how I’ve been living and it’s time for a new box.
Let me give you an example. I recently realized my dream of publishing a book. Hooray, right? Wrong. Yes, I dreamed of writing the book and publishing it, but I didn’t think of the bigger picture afterwards. I didn’t think about what being a published author really meant. I never made a plan for the aftermath. How I’d promote the book, what I’d do with the proceeds of the book, how I’d promote myself to an agent or what I’d do after the publication of the book. Do you see what I mean? My vision was shortsighted in that I was only thinking about the physical book, not all that goes with the publishing process or what I could make out of it. The vision for my success wasn’t as large a vision as it should have been. It wasn’t in color.
We manifest into our lives what we see for ourselves, so why is it that I see such a short distance down my future’s path? Why isn’t envisioning the absolute greatest for my life even on my radar? Am I so fraught with disdain for myself that I don’t think I deserve only the best? Why am I acting second rate?
I can’t say that I grew up without validation from the home. My mother gave me plenty of “You go girl’s” while I was growing up. She fostered my creativity, admired my athleticism, and supported my dreams. She wasn’t one to attend the gymnastics meets or games that I was cheerleading for, but she rooted me on from the home front. On the other hand, my father was at every meet, every game, every school function, but did not seem to fully connect with me on the home front. That was an odd balance of what I needed, but it did seem to complete my childhood needs. Or so I thought.
I was fortunate enough to buy my home when I was twenty nine years old. A colonial with three bedrooms, one and a half baths, full finished basement, and nearly a half-acre of property. While not what you would call a “dream” home, it was a fixer upper and once remodeled to my liking, I had fulfilled my dream. While homeownership hasn’t been an easy journey over the past twenty plus years, I still happily reside in the same home. Why? I’m realizing in this moment that my dream ended when I purchased the home. My dream was to plant some roots for myself as a single, progressive woman devoid of a husband or children. Buying a home that I could call my own did that for me. The dream was achieved, and it ended there.
I didn’t see at the time that I was in a great place financially and, unlike most of my friends, completely free of any hindrances that could hold me back. Over the years, I could’ve moved anywhere in the country. I could’ve purchased a newer, more modern home in a more upscale neighborhood on Long Island. I could’ve bought a beach house on the water somewhere. I could’ve built the log cabin home in Pennsylvania that I’ve always longed for. Nope. I remained in my 1,500 square foot home with no plans to move forward or upward. Again, my dream wasn’t in color.
I achieved many amazing things early on in my lifetime. I’ve never quite seen them as accomplishments though. I never thought what I did was ever quite good enough. From being the Prom Queen to becoming Miss New York State National Cheerleader as a sophomore in High School or being a dancer/choreographer on a local television show and performing in a Dance Company as a freshman in college, I was never impressed by any of my achievements. Maybe it was because my father never seemed to be impressed and I was secretly craving his attention every moment I was awake.
I never knew why he didn’t participate in many of my celebrations as a young woman, though he was an active participant in my school activities as a child. He didn’t treat my three sisters that way. He always showed up and showed out for them, showering them with the love, affection, and attention I have always longed for. With me, he always seemed distant and cold. He kept me at an arms distance and treated me as if he didn’t like me; like I didn’t matter as much as my sisters, and it crippled me emotionally my entire life. It wasn’t until much later into my adulthood that I realized how scarred I was by his lack of presence in my life. I’d thought that since I had my Ma’s full attention, I didn’t need his. I was wrong.
I now recognize that not feeling my father’s love as a youngster bred within me a string of insecurities that plague me until this very day. These insecurities quite possibly hold me back from seeing in color for fear that the brightness will fade like my father’s love seemed to. I have a deep yearning to be loved and accepted as I am by men. I lack confidence in myself on many different levels. My self-consciousness, self-loathing, and fear of abandonment also hold me hostage from being my greatest self. They blind me from viewing things with a colorful eye.
It wasn’t until after my father passed that both my mother and a close family friend told me what they called “the truth” about my father’s feelings for me. They sat me down and said that he wanted me to know how proud he was of me. He wanted me to know that he always knew I’d be a winner and go on to do great things. That he took the hands off approach with me because he was never worried about me; he always knew I’d be ok, even when I was a child. He said he knew that I didn’t need him the way my sisters did. Boy, was he wrong! I probably needed him more than my sisters.
I have to be honest with you, at first, I didn’t believe them. My father and I had become good friends in the seven years prior to his death and I was certain he would’ve told me these things himself. Certainly, he would’ve wanted me to hear this from his own mouth! They emphatically cosigned on each other’s version of the story and told me to understand that he was a proud man who had always paid special attention to me behind the scenes. Hearing all of this, years after I needed to and far after I was able to talk to my father about it, I can’t say that I feel any better or worse for knowing. I needed to read his lips while he said that to me, and we know that can’t happen.
This whole notion of dreaming in color makes me think back to a friend who once told me that I didn’t have it in me to be great. I didn’t understand why he would say this, and I felt really hurt by it. I realize today, that on many levels, he was right. You see, I thought I was being great, but my actions didn’t prove that, and he saw right through me. I constantly put a ceiling on myself and I didn’t stretch myself past that ceiling. Once I reach my goal I tend to stop and work toward a different goal. I didn’t reach past that goal to climb to the next level within that realm, and then higher still. I honestly didn’t realize that I was stopping myself from attaining my greatest life possible. I’d been limiting myself without even knowing it!
As a grown ass woman I am finally seeing colors. Shades of red and purple and green are coming to me. As I get more in touch with who I really am, what I want and what I’m feeling, as I’m meeting new people who are opening my eyes to life’s vast possibilities, as I’m allowing myself to open my mind and heart to a new way, I find that my inclination is to now reach past what would normally be the end for me. I’m now focused on the pinnacle for myself. There are no more dead ends in my life, only a wide open road.
❤️❤️