I don’t know when it happened exactly. I just know it happened.
It wasn’t overnight. It wasn’t one catastrophic event. It wasn’t someone’s words that lingered. It wasn’t one specific loss that did me in.
So I guess it was an endless series of things…life…that didn’t seem all that noticeable at the time but “out of nowhere”, somehow, it all culminated into a big ball of everything. Defeat. Exhaustion. Emptiness. Fear.
I lost faith in myself.
I lost trust in not just a dream, but in my purpose.
No one understands the weight and the weightlessness of someone’s dream except the one dreaming it. They can try to explain it to you, the highs and lows…You can nod your head and say, “I get it” but we both know you’re lying. Because someone’s vision for their life is theirs and theirs alone. The words will always fall flat to the most hopeful of dreams and ambitions. My story will not resonate in your soul like it resonates in mine. That is fact. And each of us can choose to see that as a burden or as a light. In my life, I’ve switched back and forth on how I view mine. And as of lately, it’s been on the heavier side.
And as I sit here on this office couch in Kingston Springs, Tennessee, the reality of my situation is sinking me into these couch cushions more than my big ass.
I cannot ignore it.
I cannot turn off the voice inside.
There is no fire extinguisher to put out whatever is trying to burn brighter inside of me. I’ve looked for one. Whether it was in a bar, or in a bed, or holding new nieces and nephews and trying to convince myself that “This wouldn’t be so bad”… It didn’t work.
So, I have a choice.
We all have a choice.
Burden or light.
Somewhere along the way, a lot of us quit dreaming. It became too hard. Too unattainable. Or, you gave up on yourself before you even started. Or, you turned 40 and you deemed yourself “too old”. The world, your family, your significant other told you there was no security in it and you believed them. Whether it was a teacher who once wanted to move to Hollywood or a plumber who dreamed of being a writer all through high school. You went another way because you were unsure. And it’s not to say you don’t live a happy life now. Your life is valid and important. We need the teachers, the bartenders, the taxi drivers, the construction workers, and so on to survive. But maybe you had other aspirations once upon a time. And maybe, just maybe, it’s okay for you to still have them today…even if it’s not what’s bringing in your paycheck.
Being in Nashville the last few days has been a very eye-opening experience. Living here 50/50 is good for me. I’m starting to see it differently, literally and figuratively. I’m having different conversations. And even the conversations that might be the same, I’m choosing to take away different information from them. And the thought that keeps nailing me in the back of the head is this… the dreamer’s dream is as big or small as they make it. It’s as heavy or as light as you want it to be.
I don’t know who/when/where it says that you can’t pursue whatever it is you want to. Or that there’s an expiration date/age for going after something with all your heart. Or that you can only choose “one thing” and stick with it until you get rich or you die of a broken heart and a shriveled liver. Really? Those are my only options? I call bullshit.
This weekend I was humbled by a few conversations with good friends.
I have confessed my insecurities and my crippling self-doubt about finally releasing my new music and stepping into the “artist” role again. I have teared up admitting that I’m afraid to pick up the phone or shoot the email to ask for help because I feel like no one cares anymore. It took too long. I’ve paralyzed myself by attaching everything to this big vision of how I thought it should be…all the ducks that needed to be in a row…that now that it’s taken longer than it was supposed to, I’m somehow inadequate. My fear became too all-consuming for me to commit and pull the trigger.
Their response to my bleeding heart confessions…?
Do it. Write it. Sing it. And they will come. The time is now.
How uncomplicated & undramatic is that?! After this long & drawn out internal war I’ve been waging in my head that has drained me completely…THAT is the solution?!
1st conversation: One of my dear friends is a photographer here in Nashville. An incredible photographer at that. She called me up and treated me to breakfast because she wanted to ask for my help. At 32 years old, she wants to start writing songs. Can’t sing, can’t play any instruments, but wanted to follow this creative path because it called to her. She’s not looking for it to produce a hit song or a publishing deal…she just wants to write. I was so blown away by this concept that when she asked if I’d help her, I answered with a resounding, “Fuck yes.” So the next day, she came out, I helped piece together one of her tunes and she was over the moon. She’s still on such a high from absorbing information I’d shared with her about song structure and the business that she can’t stop writing…or singing my praises. And it’s just like, holy shit… how brave that she doesn’t know what she’s doing yet but she’s just doing it anyway. I used to be her. And if she can be her and not feel afraid to dream new dreams, then what the hell is my excuse…?
2nd conversation: Friend of mine has been in town over a decade, singing and writing his ass off. He networks like no one I’ve ever seen. His hair, his clothes, his voice…all loud and proud and he gives off the vibe that he gives zero fucks what anyone has to say about it. Sitting down for coffee with him yesterday, he caught me up on his journey. After over a decade in this town, playing & hosting writer’s rounds and performing showcases as a solo artist, he decided to change it up and form a band to play downtown Broadway every Friday night, after never playing/aspiring to play downtown before. And not just “play on Broadway”, but audition, rehearse, and put together a BOMB ASS SHOW that no one else is doing downtown and that people are flipping out over. He posts videos of rehearsals, etc. unapologetically and people are loving it…he’s exposing his talent in a way he hadn’t before and it’s awesome. Why? Because he felt like it. Oh, and he also started his own clothing/styling thaaang and he’s KILLING IT. So who’s to say that “the dream” has to follow X, Y, Z to be recognized and appreciated…?!
3rd conversation: Yesterday I attempted a Sunday Funday, brunch and all, and it didn’t go quite as I had imagined. By 3pm, my friends had other plans to tend to so I was left with a full belly, a couple of vodka sodas in me, and nowhere to be. As I was driving back to the house and passing through Music Row, a friend/my favorite co-writer called me up and asked what I was up to. I immediately spit out, “Meet me at the office. Now. We are writing a song on a Sunday Funday.” So we did. I’d had this song idea in my head for a few days and I guess I felt it hit too close to home to sit down and flush out by myself. I needed backup. Her and I are good about doing that for each other, ha. During our write/therapy session we started talking about how things in Nashville have changed so much in all the years we’ve been here. We talked about the hustle. We talked about the lack of the hustle as compared to some of these ‘newbies’. We talked about the new crop of writers and artists coming here and how they are making things happen and how it’s easy to feel forgotten if you let yourself go there. She works harder than anyone I know. She’s working the graveyard shift at a “real job” so that she can try to pay her bills, takes a short nap during the day, and then wakes up and writes songs/goes to shows before she has to go work again with a few hours of sleep under her belt. I don’t know dedication like that, I really don’t. But she does it. And when I watch her win CMA Song of the Year in the future, everyone in this town is going to celebrate the girl behind that dedication. I told her, “What if we moved forward acting like we’re fresh off the boat too. What if the stars in our eyes still existed, we just let life cloud them over.” And then we wrote a really good song.
It’s not a prerequisite to have a tortured heart or be a pessimist to chase dreams. We choose that on our own. And how we beat ourselves up is farrrr worse than what anyone out there has ever said/thought about us. So I hope we can get over it. Because the alternative is to stop chasing. And I don’t know about you, but I’m quite positive that I have no other skill sets and I’m miserable doing anything else soooo…this is it. It’s time I start acting like it again.
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