What's the Point in Dreaming If We Don't Dream Big?

Insecurities like to run rampant in me.

Am I good enough? Will 'so-and-so' like me? Will what I write actually sound intellectual? Will it even be well-written? What about my singing voice? Am I even good, or are my parents just telling me that to build me up? This shirt doesn't really look good, does it? What if they laugh? I can't tell my story; nobody will care. My haircut is horrible; maybe I should wear it a different way. But why? It's still not going to look good.

These types of questions have haunted me for most of my life. Growing up, I was the outgoing and extroverted child who wanted to know everything there was to know about the world. I wanted to meet everyone, hear their story, and learn from them. I wanted to go everywhere, do everything, see everything. But growing up with this type of curiosity made me an outsider. It wasn't the "norm". Most people in my little town were happy just getting to know their backyard, if that. Who cared about the yard, or the kid, or the dog across the street?

Me, that's who.

Being different in today's society is something that's considered 'brave', 'noble', or even 'cool'. Not when I was growing up. It was simply 'different'. And we all know different can't possibly be good.

The younger me, who enjoyed learning everything, slowly became an introvert with a small group of friends, who preferred books to people. The curiosity inside me never died; I simply refused to put it on display. Instead, I turned to writing, reading, painting, dreaming, singing, and acting. Those last two were only displayed whenever I knew nobody I knew would be present.

But even then, insecurities would eat me up. I may not have known anyone in the crowd, but I was so sure somebody out there was critiquing my singing or acting abilities. I refused to put my writing online for the longest time, because I quickly learned that people are more confident and brash when they're hiding behind a keyboard and a made-up domain name.

Growing up, I was bullied. As far as I knew, nobody knew; I only just recently told my parents about it. I didn't want anybody to know, but I'm sure that my friends and family could slowly see the light dying within me. My thirst to know about everything around me slowly changed until I preferred staying in my room, reading a book, writing a story (which I always hid so nobody would read it), or attempting to draw. I stopped exploring outside. I still lusted to travel, but I didn't really acknowledge it - pretending to be happy just looking at pictures of far-away places, instead of actually planning to go there.

Don't get me wrong -- wanderlust and curiosity are not bad; in fact, I think they're wonderful! But they made me different than the other kids. As I said before, most of them were more concerned with who they were dating or the party on the weekend than where they could travel, what they could do, or who they could be. Many of them were content with graduating high school and.... that's it. They weren't looking forward to the future.

I couldn't wait to get out of high school. I hated it there, mostly because, as I mentioned before, I was bullied incessantly. It was almost a daily thing; I could count on it almost as sure as the sun would rise. But it was also because I had huge dreams I wanted to accomplish. My issue was -- I had even bigger insecurities.

The plans I had for my life were astronomical. They weren't possible for someone like me. Clearly, I needed to come up with something more low-key for my life, because who would really believe that I could do all the things I wanted? I couldn't travel everywhere; I couldn't become a best-selling author; I couldn't be a famous actor; I wouldn't see my name in bright lights or on the cover of a book. Those were impossibilities, and I definitely needed to rethink about my future.

Right?

Sadly, the insecure, introverted boy I had become believed all of that. But, they were all lies -- lies told to me from my classmates, from teachers, from people I had naively called friends, from family, and even from myself. They say that we are our own biggest critic, and I'd have to agree. I critiqued (and still do) myself way too harshly, and many times I believe the critiques, despite the evidence right in front of me.

No, I'm not a famous actor. I don't have a best-selling book. I don't travel everywhere. I've never seen my name in lights.

But, after years of lies, I have finally found the truth. If I really wanted any of those things (which, yes, I want some, but not all of those), nobody is stopping me, except myself. It's a daily battle to fight the insecurities inside and keep them silent. Even now, as I write this blog post, insecurity is creeping in, asking if anybody actually cares enough to read it. But, I have to remember that it doesn't matter if nobody reads this. The fact stays the same that whether people read it or not, my insecurities do not define me. I am more than my self-doubt.

I am currently working on a manuscript that will hopefully become a published novel. I'd love to see my name on the cover of a book when I go into my favorite bookstore. I no longer have a desire to be an actor, but am planning on eventually getting back into community theatre. You see, though I have insecurities and deal with them constantly, I am learning not to listen to them; instead, I am listening to what I want for my life and believing that I am good enough to do anything. No longer do I listen to what others tell me I am, or what they think I can or can't accomplish. They don't have any say in what I decide to do, who I am, or what I can achieve.

Insecurities are usually based on things that are ingrained in us from childhood; I know mine definitely are. But, we cannot allow them to rule our lives, or else we will eventually find that we are dead inside, comparing ourselves to people who most likely don't even think about us.

Instead, we need to explore the world, learn everything we can, and go out of our way to make sure that nobody we come in contact with feels insecure because of us. And if they already do, remedy it. If they feel insecure because of somebody else, remind them that they are important. Their dreams do matter. They matter. They can do or be anything they want, despite what the world says about them.

Dream big. Remember that you're more than what others think of you. Decide that your life is yours, not theirs, and they no longer have a handle on directing it. Realize that you are made for wondrous things, whether you know what those are or not. Nobody can tell you who you are, except for you. Don't let others voices drown out your own.

Speak out, live life, and encourage others. Be weird. Be outgoing. Be different.

Be you.

Because, if you don't, then who will?

Matters of the Heart

My soon-to-be ex-wife and I had a 5 year plan, including that after about 5 years of marriage, we would start trying for children. Well, to me, that meant that at about 3 years, we would begin mentally preparing ourselves. Around our 3 year anniversary, I decided it was time for me to begin mentally preparing to have children, because chances are good that it would happen within the next 2 years or so.

3 days after our anniversary, my world tumbled and crashed to the ground. I was ready to have children, and now that opportunity was ripped away. I felt like I was dying.

When I explained it to my sister, I used an analogy that I knew she would understand: Marriage is like climbing a tree with your best friend. Divorce is like having the branch you were standing on break, and you begin falling, not knowing when you're going to hit the ground and afraid of what you'll hit on your way down. But eventually you do hit the ground, and it knocks the wind out of your lungs and you can't breathe, and you feel like you'll die before you regain your breath. That's exactly how I felt. 3 days after our 3 year anniversary, I was falling out of the tree, my best friend having snapped the branch I was standing on.

Divorce sucks. Plain and simple. There's no reason to mince words about it. Divorce. Sucks. It drains you mentally, physically and emotionally, and unless you've gone through it, you can't even relate to the agony of it all, regardless of how hard you try. And I don't know if that's better or worse.

But worse yet is knowing that no matter how hard you try to fix things between you and your spouse, it's a two-way street, and sometimes there is only one car on the road. That's the worst of it: knowing that the person you dreamed of eternity with has decided that your time is no longer valuable. That you are a hindrance to them. That you can't truly make them happy, despite how much you tried. That they're happier apart from you than they ever truly were with you. That they're happy with their decision, even though they've ripped out your heart, slashed it wide open and squashed it into the ground. Yeah, that's so much worse.

You also don't realize just how lonely you are, until the person you did everything with has now cut you out of their life. Something, whether it's good or bad, will happen, and I'll reach for my phone to text my soon-to-be ex, and have to catch myself. I still do this, and I don't think it's a bad thing. But it's a painful thing, because your go-to person, who you trusted with everything, is now nonexistent in your reality. It's like drowning and there's no life raft in sight.

But, it can also be good. No, the heart-ache and the disappointment and, yes, even resentment towards the other person is not good for you. The possibility of depression, self-doubt, or even self-hatred is definitely negative. The fact that you may lose friends and have a divide in your family because they don't understand or agree with what you're going through, even if it's not your fault? Yeah, not exactly a trip to Disney World.

But, good can come out of divorce if you're willing to let God use it for good.

I struggled with this for quite some time. I never wanted to be that person who was divorced. I always felt like that was a taboo thing, and I wanted no part of it. I didn't want people to look at me and think 'oh, he's one of those'. I was ashamed for a decision I had no part in. I lost friends because of something I didn't choose. I learned the true colors of some of my family because of something I was now associated with, because they jumped to conclusions instead of listening to me. I was now part of a negative stigma. I was getting a divorce.

I moved back in with my parents, where I stayed in my room most of the time. I would only venture out when I was hungry, or had to go to work. Other than that, I was slowly becoming a recluse. A depressed, self-pitying recluse. For the longest time, none of my friends or family knew about what I was going through, because I was too ashamed to say anything. I was hoping and praying that it was all a horrible dream and that eventually I would wake up. But, that never happened. It was my reality, and it sucked.

Everything had changed in my life. We had just signed on to lead a young professionals small group, but now I wasn't steady enough to lead myself, much less a group. I contacted the director and explained what happened. After a few moments of conversation, she asked if I'd be interested in speaking with her husband. It turned out he had gone through a similar situation with his previous wife. His wife had walked out on him also. Reluctantly, I agreed, and she put me in contact with him. He wanted to meet me and get to know me a little better, and hopefully help me get through this. That was the absolute last thing I wanted. I had no interest in meeting him. I didn't want to talk about what I was going through. If you don't mention it, it doesn't exist, right? Wrong. So very wrong.

Begrudgingly, I met with him. I don't know why he stuck with me, because I was clearly a wreck, but he did. When we spoke, he gave me some words of advice that I'll never forget. He said: "You have to own your story. That's the only way to heal. Don't hide away from it." Don't hide? Own it? Why would I want to do that? That sounded completely absurd. Then he gave me a book to read titled "Enemies of the Heart". I read it in a week. It made me realize something: I was harboring anger in my heart for my soon-to-be ex-wife, even though I didn't want to admit it. Because of this, I was holding on to something that was nonexistent, and I was giving her power over me. When I finished the book, I realized that the first step in moving on with my life was to forgive her. So that's what I did. I didn't say anything verbally to her. I didn't text or email her. I just forgave her in my heart. And suddenly, I was at peace.

It sounds crazy, doesn't it? But I was. I was at peace with my situation. Forget what people said about me. Forget about how people perceived me. Forget about all the assumptions that I'm sure were in many people's minds. I was at peace, and that's all that mattered. Did I still hate the situation? Absolutely. I still do. Do I miss her like crazy? All the time. She was my best friend, after all. And a part of me will always love her, despite what she put me through. Nothing will ever change that.

If you've read this far, I'm surprised. But you're probably wondering when the good from all this bad will come in, and how does divorce lead to good things? Well, here we go.

After meeting with this guy at church, I made the conscious decision that I was not going to allow myself to sink into depression, even though I was almost there. I refused. I decided that I could either sink into depression, allowing people to feel pity for me (and, oh, how tempting that was), or I could dive into the church. Thankfully, I chose the latter.

I told the guy from church that I wanted to get plugged in, but didn't know what I could contribute. Long story short, I began working in the kids ministry in the media department during the 8am service. But now I needed to find something to do during the 9:30am service, since I went to the 11:15am service. Again, long story short, I now am a lead teacher for 12 - 15 4th grade boys during the 9:30am service.

Now, let's jump back to the beginning of this blog post. I was mentally preparing myself to have a child, but with a single word, that plan was ripped away. I didn't know when, if ever, I'd have a child, even though I was so ready for it. However, because of what I went through, God provided a way for me to get deeper into my church. He allowed me to get connected in a way I never had been, nor probably ever would have been, before. He allowed me to see who my true friends were, and allowed me to meet a completely new set of friends who don't care about my past but love me regardless. He allowed me to reconnect with old friends, whom I hadn't seen or even spoken to in so long simply because my ex didn't care for them. And, oh, how I missed those friendships!

But above all else, he gave me 12 to 15 kids. In His own way, He gave me children. I love those boys more than they will ever know, even when they drive me up the wall, are crawling under tables, or trying to play hide and seek while I'm trying to teach them. I love my new-found friendships, the friendships that were restored, and the ones who have stood by me through all this crap. I love being plugged into a church and knowing that I'm doing more with my life than simply hiding in my bedroom. Despite all my misfortunes, I can honestly say, I love my life and wouldn't change anything about it.

Maybe God used this to show me just how useless I was being, how miserable I really was, and what I really wanted out of life. Maybe it was His way of showing me what He had planned for me, while I had previously been making excuses so I wouldn't have to get uncomfortable. Now those excuses were gone; I had nothing holding me back. And He used me to fulfill a greater purpose than I'd ever have thought I was worthy of doing. And He still is.

Divorce sucks. I've said it once and I'll say it again. Divorce sucks. It can rip you apart until you don't even recognize yourself. But sometimes, if you let it, it can lead you to even greater happiness. Sometimes, if you're willing, God will take those broken pieces and turn you into a masterpiece, like only He can.

Don't follow in my footsteps and slowly become a depressed recluse. Instead, dive into the church. I promise, you won't regret it. I sure don't. Who knows? You might find a family who's ready to take you as you are, even to the point of helping you unpack your baggage.