We Are Meant to Live Our Wildest Dreams

“

there’s nothing I love more than a woman who goes after what she wants —

and believes wholeheartedly that she deserves it.”

In the past few weeks, two of my close girlfriends told me some good news. One told me she would be moving to Los Angeles and the other told me she was going back to school. And the amount of joy that radiated throughout my entire body upon hearing their good news could move mountains, because there’s nothing I love more than a woman who goes after what she wants — and believes wholeheartedly that she deserves it.

I believe in them.

I believe my L.A. gal is going to thrive in California and carry on her legacy of award-winning producer, writer, and novelist. She’s going to watch the sunrise every morning, with her vase of peonies, and her vision board surrounding her.

I believe my grad school gal is going to grow so much in her craft in grad school. I see her commanding the room. I see her studying in New York. I see her creating her own line if she wants and costuming plays and sketching out her ideas during a table read.

I have visions of my friends living their wildest dreams, so it’s very easy for me to cheer them on in their successes, because a part of me already sees it happening.

And if I am a cheerleader for other women in my life who are cheerleaders for me, then it’s important to remember to be a cheerleader for myself, too.

In December 2019, I wrote a manifestation list for things I’d hope to have moving into my new life after my breakup. I wrote down things like “I live in a beautiful house in a safe neighborhood,” “I have healthy friendships,” “I have a job that pays x for at least 25 hours a week.”

I got them all.

The one that was most surprising was the job, because it seemed too good to be true — a part-time job that provided me with income necessary to cover my bills and still allowed me time to write and work on my individual projects.

I was going to be a nanny.

I remember my first day vividly. As a matter of fact, my first day was so monumental in shaping the writer that I am today, I added it to my novel.

There wasn’t much of a learning curve. I’m no stranger to working with kids, so I quickly fell into the rhythm of my job caring after two twelve year olds, and I really did love every second.

The year passed in a flash. Sixth grade came and went, and then it was summertime. Countless drives to choir and swim practice were in the books, several afternoons spent baking brownies and eating too many chocolate chips were under our belt. I listened to Queen more in this timeframe than I ever have in my life. I laughed a lot, too. They’re funny kids with a sense of humor that reminds me so much of my own.

Seventh grade started, and life continued as normal from the fall to the winter. I spent October and November in Los Angeles while the kids carried on back at home with a friend of mine who graciously filled in. We FaceTimed often and the mom checked in with me to see how everything was going.

In December, mere weeks after getting back home, I got into my accident, which rocked my world in more ways than one. It put me face to face with my reality and had me question if I was living the life I had always dreamt of living, or if I was sitting comfortably in a space that no longer served my greater good.

I planned to leave soon. I didn’t know when or how, but I knew my time was nearly up. And then some news hit the family, and I knew I had to stay, not out of obligation, but because I genuinely wanted to stay to help the family I grew to love over the year.

January through June were the months that were really hard, and with good reason. We all were collectively navigating our own realities while trying our best to stay above water. I was trying to maintain my typical uplifting demeanor for the kids, who were now thirteen and not really kids anymore. Mardi Gras came and Mardi Gras went. And then the pandemic hit, and, suddenly, I found myself a tutor teaching the kids via Google Meet for four hours a day.

I was beyond grateful to keep my job. It was helpful to not only me, but to the parents and kids, too. Consistency is important. Positive attitudes are, too. We tried to maintain it, but sometimes, we cracked.

My attitude shifted. There were days when I was beyond tired. So tired, I couldn’t even fathom exercising or cooking a meal or writing or speaking. The only energy I had was for my job, and sometimes barely that. The kids became increasingly irritable and frustrated with virtual schooling. The parents were trying their best while also managing their own schedules with work, etc.

It was sometime in May when I began going back to work regularly and virtual tutoring was nixed. We felt it was safe to integrate into normalcy, especially because we had all been self-isolating for months at this point. Admittedly, it was nice to see the kids in person and feel their energy in real time. They make me feel young and silly and I enjoy them immensely, but I also had the feeling that I was backtracking.

When stay-at-home orders officially began, I was lucky enough to gain some career traction from a tweet I wrote that went viral. It seems silly to say, but it really did change my life. And I almost didn’t post it! Further proof to go with your gut always, even on Twitter.

Overnight, my phone was ringing for interviews, I was being commissioned to write pieces for various publications, and I even accepted a writing and content creator position for Restless Network, which is based in London (something I had on my manifestation board, by the way — “I will travel to L.A., NYC, and London for work.”) I suddenly felt as though my life was picking up in ways I had longed for, so returning to work as a nanny and tutor felt hard during this season of my life, despite being grateful for the consistency, responsibility, and income.

But it wasn’t just me feeling different. Things at work started to feel different, too.

Boredom set in, which was unusual. Although there was schoolwork to do with the kids, they didn’t quite need me for it. They wanted their independence, and, honestly, I wanted it for them, too. I began to feel increasingly irritated at battling the attitudes of teenagers, despite understanding their inner turmoil and also being thirteen once. I began to feel somewhat obsolete, like I truly was not needed. I asked myself more and more, “Why am I here?”

I felt like they didn’t need me like they once used to. And, in turn, I felt the same for me.

Did I need them?

For a long while, I did need them. And I don’t just mean financially, although I desperately needed that when I moved home. But I needed them to remind me to embrace my inner child. I needed them to remind me how exciting life can be, or how much fun it is to scream-sing in the car with the windows rolled down, or how freaking exciting it is to simply make brownies on a rainy Friday afternoon.

I needed them to teach me how to communicate better. I needed them to show me the importance of listening and shifting my speech to meet the needs of who I’m speaking to. I needed them to heal parts of myself that I never knew needed healing, like childhood Kaitlyn whose fears and anxieties and desire for perfection I witnessed in the girl every single day. Or teenage Kaitlyn whose angst and anger and curiosity and twisty sense of humor I witnessed in the boy.

Over the year and a half that I worked with the kids, they became extensions of me, and I them, I’d like to believe. But the tethers that held us together for so long quickly began to hold us back.

It was time to cut ourselves loose.

So, I quit.

And it wasn’t easy to do, because I love them, I’ll miss them, and I don’t know what’s next, but I had to get real.

And I had to learn to value myself, my needs, and my boundaries, and after one particular incident, I had no other choice but to say goodbye.

In an instant, I have my 25 hours a week back to myself. In an instant, I have far less money in my bank account. In an instant, I have my life back and the anxiety and excitement that comes with that.

I believe that people come into our lives for a reason. Every time. All of the time. And I know these two little souls entered my life to help me heal during my time of brokenness. And I hope I helped them heal, too.

But, I have new dreams now. Or my old/current dreams, rather, but some new ones, too. Dreams that it’s time for me to revisit, dreams that have been reignited from hearing friends’ stories of following their hearts and feeling my own heart remind me everyday of what it is I love to do. And I have to follow that. I absolutely must follow that.

So, here we go.

I’m taking the next step in whatever chapter is currently being written for me. I’m manifesting new dreams now like a guest spot in “Good Girls” and a seat at the writer’s table for a network television show, many trips to NYC and L.A. and London for work and for play, and plays again! Oh, all of the plays. And musicals, too, because I can sing, I’m just scared of it. And stand up sets when I’m feeling feisty, and solo trips when I want to just get away, and all of the bravery in the world that every move I make is continuously guiding me to exactly where I want to be.

And where I want to be wants me to be there, too.

So off I go to meet my destiny in the middle. I’m not sure how long the road will be or if there will even be a destination, but I do know that I’m ready. I’m ready to see what I come across and ready to see who I’ll meet. I’m ready to work and to learn and to grow. I’m ready to feel the excitement fluttering around in my stomach when I’m on my way to class, or to work, or to meet an agent. I’m ready to wake up excited.

I think all of us want that.

My friends will achieve greatness. And so will those amazing kids.

And it starts with taking a step into the unknown — like moving to Los Angeles, or going back to school, or doing a project on your own, or being able to stay home by yourself at thirteen.

Whatever they want, they can have. Whatever their dreams, they will succeed.

I believe in them.

And, thanks to them, I also believe in me.