When I was seventeen my dream was to be a writer, a journalist. I asked a family member that I felt was wiser and richer if I should be a writer. Her reply was that I would starve to death and that I should pick a more secure career.
At 33 I was married, with two children a career I hated and I asked myself where did my dreams go. I wanted that spark again. I wanted to reach enlightenment. I will write about how I achieved that another day.
I then realized I asked the wrong person about following my dreams. I had the All American Dream and had became just like everyone else. Every neighbor with 2.5 kids, white picket fence, two vehicles, and the biggest mortgage we could get to ensure we would have to work the rest of our lives paying interest and maybe even refining to a lower mortgage rate to pay more fees and interest. In the mean time having the all too common same routine, with a cheating husband and becoming like everyone else wanted me to become.