One of my favorite quotes is the well known phrase “I dwell in possibility”, by Emily Dickinson. The words invite you to bask in the glow of what could be and dare you to dream your best life truly is just around the corner. I love it so much that years ago I bought a card stamped with this very phrase. After displaying it conspicuously on the refrigerator for at least a year, I tucked the card away refusing to ever use it for its intentioned purpose. Then recently my daughter needed to write a thank you note and I caved. The perfection and appropriateness of the card’s sentiment surpassed my desire to hold onto its artful inspiration. Honestly though, it was time. Those words had long been written on my heart.

I’ve always been the girl that dwells in possibility, but I’m also the girl who plays it safe. The potential of possibility is a glorious thing, but it also involves risk. And as most of us know, risk creates the potential for loss. After experiencing life-changing loss in my early years, I’ve subconsciously worked really hard to avoid it. Until recently. 

For the last 20+ years, I’ve had the same career in the same industry. In return this professional constancy has provided me, by virtue of its predictability with a form of stability. My formula for success has always been pretty simple. Find a good company, accept a good position with a decent amount of growth opportunity, work hard, keep my head down, then reassess only when the workload or culture itself became unbearable. I’m fairly certain I could be considered a poster child for responsible, yet unadventurous behavior. Many feel pride in the longevity of their chosen profession, but I’ve always felt a mixture of resignation and disappointment. All those years and I’d never dared to follow a dream or pursue a passion. The regret weighed heavy on my heart.

Once upon a time a client of my husband mentioned an opening at his company. The timing was perfect. I needed a job and a direction in which to point myself. I was young and inexperienced, but willing to work hard and eager to learn. One thing led to another and suddenly a couple decades later I found myself here, an experienced professional halfway to a mid-life crisis. In my disciplined pursuit of security, I’d never left much room for self-discovery or even self-reflection, so it’s no surprise my path never varied. Apart from maternity leave, the longest I’d ever stayed away from the office was a short 6-week stint in my mid-20s. This was an interesting period that occurred alongside the realization that working with my husband was not going to bring us closer together. I’m happy to report our marriage survived the experience. He continued his life as a tennis professional, while I quickly returned to corporate life. 

I’ve often imagined doing something else; however, defining that “something else” has proven difficult. My husband loves what he does for a living, like truly loves it. He’s the person who never gets the Sunday blues and doesn’t dread Mondays. Seriously. He’s often asked me what I would really love to do and I’ve never been able to give him a definitive response. The hard truth is I’ve long been stuck in the “grown-up” rut. You know the one… go to work, pay the bills, cheer for TGIF and hope for a relaxing weekend. Rinse and repeat. 

I’d lost the ability to dream. If I couldn’t dream that meant I was doomed to exist in my own personal Groundhog Day for the rest of my life. It didn’t show on the outside, but inside I was getting desperate. Worse still, I didn’t have a clue how to press restart or move forward. I felt paralyzed and hopeless. The next 20 years were stretching out in front of me and I had no idea how to lay claim to them. My stable paycheck had always benefitted our bank account, but not much else was thriving, especially not me. I had finally come to the point of no return. It was either do nothing (and face the consequences), or take that wild leap and learn how to live. Yes in my 40s, but better late than never right? I once heard someone say, “Regret implies you had the opportunity to do something different, but you didn’t.”

Takeaway? Fear is overrated, regret is not.

So this is where I find myself. Standing on the edge of taking a chance and remembering to breathe. I tell my daughter bravery isn’t about being unafraid. It’s about being absolutely terrified and doing it anyway. I suppose it’s time I start listening to my own parenting speeches, because she’s watching me do this and that means this leap is more important than ever. 

Dreaming isn’t easy, especially when you’re completely out of practice, but hope can be found in the smallest of places. It’s true what they say. The journey of a lifetime starts with one small step, then another and another. Not every adventure ends in wild success, but the risk is worth taking.

Hope is not a pipe dream.