dreams (part 3): hope, grief, and my therapeutic calling

Two days.


Such a small number.

I have been dreaming about going to Ireland for over ten years. Ten years worth of dreams will begin to be realized in a mere four days.

These two things seem so… disconnected.

But that’s the funny thing about dreaming, right? We dream to keep us going. Dreams give us something for which to hope; for some people, dreams even give the hope to keep getting out of bed in the morning. Our world seems to run on hopes and dreams, but I don’t know many people who can say that they have lived into their dream or have gotten to experience their dream. Or maybe that’s just me?

I get to do it. I get to experience my dream! there is so much excitement in that!

and yet…

and yet, there is also sorrow because this thing that I’ve been hoping for, this thing I’ve been dreaming about, will soon be over. I’m not afraid that my expectations will be dashed or that the reality won’t live up the what I want it to. I’m talking about the return to my daily routine; the part where I come back to Seattle and dive back into school, work, and my future internship. Those days when I need something to hope for, when I need a dream to keep me moving… what will I turn towards now?

My classmate and friend Morgan said it best: you are a kid who finally got their pony. What will you do now? Now I will dream again.

Beginning to dream again has not been a common place I find myself and yet that that is my calling in life, to help others dream again. That’s what therapy is for me, and that’s the kind of therapist I want to be. I have no doubt that my client’s will spark my curiosity for humanity; that grieving with them will allow more space in my heart for love; that celebrating with them will remind me that life truly is beautiful; and that the thin spaces in between, where life is mostly lived, we will have our dreams, our hopes.



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