Do you dream, single mother?
I had this fluffy, nutty post all written about how excited I am to have found the money to take tango lessons–thank you birthday. The post was fun. It had links. It talked about following your dreams.
It was all true — I’m thrilled to have found a tango class I can afford and can get to on public transportation. I’ve been dreaming about learning partner dance for a while now.But it didn’t tell the whole truth. When it comes to following my dreams, I’m falling short. Tango wasn’t one of my dreams, growing up.
I had dreams, once upon a time. Really, I did. And perhaps, when this divorce is done, and these lean times are over, I’ll remember what those dreams are, again. Right now, I’m a little fuzzy on the details. Luckily, I have a friend or two left from the old days who remembers me from long ago and far away, and shows me a glimpse of who I am on the outside of me, looking in.
Once upon a time, there were things I could do very well. They, unfortunately, had nothing to do with practical matters like Career or Business or Work. Along the way I abandoned the things I did well in favor of nothing much at all. I gave them up because I didn’t have the stomach to fight for them, to prove that I was good at them–hell, that I could have been great at them. Some of these things I gave up because they were attached to the men in my life, like acting and cooking. Some of them were appropriated and claimed as someone else’s; I was in a very destructive relationship with a man who claimed all my successes as his own, and was ashamed of what he convinced me were my ‘failures’. I look at myself now, a pale sheet, copied far too many times, cut and edited and whittled down, and wonder… where are you? Who are you? If I could dare to dream again, who would I dare to become?
As parents, and especially as single parents, we make sacrifices for our children. If I were all alone in this world, without a child to care for, and care about, would I be a writer, or a sculptor, or a singer? Yes, I think I would. I might be all of those. I might have simply chosen one to be best at. Today I am master of none. A dear friend from high school surprised me with tickets to a musical this afternoon: The Happy Times. And she surprised me afterwards by asking why I didn’t do musical theater, anymore.
Why, indeed?
If you had dreams, pick them up. Dust them off. Examine them from a few angles and ask yourself: what’s stopping me? Show your kids how to dream big, and teach them to value themselves. Encourage them to pursue what they are best at in their lives, and hold them to a promise to do their best in every aspect of their lives, even that which comes hard.
It’s rough and painful work, learning to dream again.
Tags: dreams, goals, obligations, single-mom, single-motherRelated Stories
POSTED IN: essential reading, ritual
4 opinions for Do you dream, single mother?
Ike
Jun 2, 2008 at 8:01 pm
Excellent post. It’s hard to remember dreams when you are so focused on the mundane details of most days.
A colleague who recently became certified as a life coach gave me a deal on a couple of sessions with her. I came away refreshed and wanting to pursue dreams I had forgotten about. What struck me a day after talking with her is that I already knew the answers to her questions - I just had to be ready to hear and think about them.
For most single moms, it’s a matter of finding a few minutes to think strictly about ourselves and how to remove obstacles. Easier said than done? Not sure. :)
christina
Jun 2, 2008 at 9:04 pm
Ike! Where have you been!? so good to hear from you again.
I keep telling myself stuff like, “I’m not $100 in the hole, every month… I’m $100 on the plus side.” Some day, I’ll figure out how to dream… and THEN I’ll figure out how to make my dreams come true.
I’m so glad you got to spend time with someone who could ask the right questions. We all need one like that!
JP
Jun 2, 2008 at 10:03 pm
I would commend to everyone a short story by Charles DeLint: “Mr. Truepenny’s Book Emporium and Gallery.”
As children, we have a capacity not only for dreaming, but for making our dreams real. They are poor stuff for an adult, but why is that? To me, they are the place we start to reclaim ourselves. Our children can help us with this.
As for the pic, it reminds me an awful lot of my first and favorite stuffed animal: Purrmeow, a little black cat. When I was small, the family dof shewed it to pieces. Mom gathered the stuffing and, using a pair of my dad’s old army socks and twisted yarm for a tail, constructed a new body with a stitched-on face. Loved that animal, and actually only have any memory of it at all in its second incarnation.
I’d forgotten about it for years, until I found it packed away in my luggage for an extended trip from home. (Thanks mom.) Now, I will not ever forget that cat.
What does it mean? Our dreams but await our return. It’s sounds cheesy, sure. But these are OLD stories, and it’s easy to forget their power. The restorative power of dreams is nothing to dismiss. Ike is right: the answers are there.
Hearing them is one thing, heeding, another.
Peace.
Ike
Jun 3, 2008 at 9:52 pm
I’m still actively reading the blog - just recently got out of a rut and feel like posting again. :)
Helpful, insightful posts you write here!
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