From Dreams to Reality
From Abandoned Dreams to Finding Purpose: A Journey of Rediscovery and Faith
When I was in junior high school, I had a teacher who believed classrooms should be circles, not rows. She said inspiration comes from seeing one another—not from staring at the back of someone’s head. We read Romeo and Juliet as if we were at a table read for a play or television show. Then we wrote.
We wrote poetry and short stories. To spare us embarrassment, she would have someone else read each piece aloud so no one knew who the author was. Each story was discussed with care and seriousness, as if it had been written by Shakespeare himself. In that space, I found something rare: an outlet. A way to express myself without fear, without criticism, without being seen. No one knew those words were mine—but they were.
I was a dreamer at heart. Every year, I watched the Jerry Lewis Labor Day Telethon from beginning to end, imagining myself on that stage—using my voice to inspire people to help others living with debilitating disease. I believed I would do it all. I would sing. I would act. I would write.
And I chased those dreams with everything I had.
Throughout my school years, I took writing classes, learned to type (on an actual typewriter), enrolled in drama, and joined the Thespian Society. I competed, performed, sang, danced, wrote lyrics, and submitted them wherever I could. I sang in church and at local nursing homes. People encouraged me constantly. You’re talented. Don’t let anyone steal your dreams. Go for it.
Then graduation approached—and everything changed.
Teachers, advisors, and family members began asking the question that haunts so many young dreamers: What are you going to do for a living?
You need a real job.
There’s no guaranteed income in the arts.
Dreams are nice—but you can’t live on them.
Looking back, that was the moment things began to shift. I chose nursing. I chose the Navy.
I attended vocational school to begin a medical career, joined the Navy, and received a medical discharge before ever seeing active duty. I worked various jobs in healthcare, retail, early childhood education, and elder care. I pursued a law degree outside the state of Ohio—only to discover it was useless within my home state. No matter where I landed, I never stayed long. I was always taking care of someone else. Always setting myself aside.
Then, unexpectedly, the film industry found its way back into my life.
I took a job as a restaurant server to allow flexibility for auditions and opportunities. I began networking on Stage 32 and Facebook. One day, someone reached out and offered me a speaking role in her show, Devils with a Smile. It was my first. Then more opportunities followed—but I was never fully invested. I was still caretaking. Still postponing myself.
And then life broke open.
My mother passed away.
A year later, my stepdaughter passed.
Soon after, the final person I was caring for also passed.
I couldn’t take the weight of life and death anymore. I didn’t want to die—but I didn’t want to live either. That was when I knew I needed help.
Through counseling, I realized something profound: my dreams had never left me. They had simply been silenced—creeping back into my life again and again, waiting patiently. Without realizing it, I had allowed others to convince me my dreams had no place, no purpose, no value.
One day, during a conversation with my counselor, she smiled gently and said,
“Sounds like a book to me.”
Everything stopped.
In that moment, purpose returned.
I continued working while I wrote and learned to self-market. Life was still overwhelming. I wanted to quit more times than I can count. Counseling kept me grounded. Writing kept me alive.
Today, I’m supported by friends and family who believe in my journey. I’ve stepped out in faith, trusting the path God placed before me. Because of health—and because I finally knew it was time—I left the workforce and entered self-employment as a writer.
The greatest affirmation came unexpectedly from my father. Years ago, he had discouraged my dreams. This past Christmas, he wrote me this:
Daughter, even though you’re all grown up, there’s still a part of me that wishes I could give you what you want most at Christmas. But I know it’s not as simple as a doll or a bicycle anymore.
You have hopes and dreams of your own—things I’m sure you carry in your heart with the word “someday.” And though I can’t give you those things myself, I hold them in my heart, too. I’m always hoping you’ll have whatever makes you feel happy, fulfilled, and loved. Because that’s exactly what you deserve.
That letter healed something in me I didn’t realize was still broken.
So here is what I know now: dream stealers come in many forms—sometimes wrapped in responsibility, sometimes disguised as wisdom. If God has a direction for your life, failure will follow every attempt to avoid it until you finally surrender to His plan.
Often, your dream is God’s plan.
Don’t try to fit your dreams into your life.
Build your life around the dreams God placed in you.
That is how dreams become reality.
