Lucky 13! (Hey….it’s all in how you look at it!)
Ever since I was a little girl, everyone of “authority” in my life said I was a dreamer. And that my imagination was way too vivid.
For example……You know how when you were in elementary school and just going back to a brand new year after your summer vacay? And one of the first assignments you had to do was write a report on just that – what you did over your summer.
I have always loved to write. Anything + everything. Blogs – both in notebooks and online. Stories. Poems. I’m not saying I was any good at it, but writing was just something that I had a deep need to do. And good or bad – I write just like I talk.
And let me tell ya – my summer vacay stories were THE BEST!
Okay, so maybe my teachers didn’t think they were the best. Maybe my mom didn’t think they were the best. As a matter of fact, I got in loads of trouble for the stuff I turned in. Not exaggerating. LOADS. I specifically remember one year – my worst elementary year – was 4th grade and my new teacher – Mrs. Bingman – sent me straight to Mr. Zellman’s office (the principal) and my mom was called in and laaaawd.
“This child has an imagination that we don’t even know how to deal with and it’s going to get her into trouble if she doesn’t stop.”
I’m not sure but I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that 4th grade + Mrs. Bingman was when I was officially labeled “a dreamer with a wild imagination.”
Back to my stories……my summer vacations weren’t unlike any other kid. We went camping a lot and we took one big vacation every year to travel to wherever my older brother was stationed stateside with the USAF.
But my stories???
Omg. (Insert hysterically laughing AND face palm emoji right here!) My stories were so damn elaborate! Honestly….I don’t remember any of them but I’m sure I was taming ferocious lions, living among wild horses, winning an Olympic Gold Medal in figure skating all while becoming a super famous model. My stories were EXCITING!
But as I said…..they landed me in elementary school jail. In my defense…nobody ever said the stories had to be true. 😉
My mom was angry and immediately started reeling me in. And by reeling me in I mean putting an end to my imagination and how big my dreams were. I became afraid of both. And I stopped. I stopped using my imagination and I stopped dreaming. 4th grade + Mrs. Bingman were turning points in my life and I’m pretty certain that’s when all my trouble started.
I didn’t dream for YEARS. Seriously. Wait….I mean, I did dream….but they were little dreams. Dreams like “I hope one day I can afford to buy dog food AND my food in the same week.” (Not even joking there.) And if I did have bigger dreams? There was no way in hell I was telling anyone about them! I honestly kept my dreams in check. Using my imagination and dreaming big were off limits to me. Not. An. Option.
Fast forward what seems like a million years. I’m not really sure WHAT happened – or even WHEN it happened (okay, probably in part because I’ve done sooooo much work within myself so there’s that) but something changed.
There was a whole big + beautiful + glittery + feel good life outside my little corner and the options were endless! MY options! ENDLESS!!!
So I started dreaming again. And believing. And dreaming more.
Peace out, Mrs. Bingman.
My challenge exercise to you today is…..