This answer is going to seem just too simple, but here it is.
You’re dream becomes your reality when you “say” it is your reality.
When you say “It,” you become “It”.
Stop! Don’t panic! I’m not talking about some kind of New-Agey, “If you think it’s so it must be so,” philosophy.
No, it’s really much simpler than that.
Your dream will become your reality when you give yourself permission to become who you dream of being.
It’s been a funny paradigm for me. When I stand in front of an audience to introduce myself, I have no problem sharing some of my job descriptions… some of my titles.
“I’m Megan Scheibner ____________”
Wife to Steve.
Mother of eight.
But here’s where it gets sketchy for me.
“I’m a wrieatlbler”
“You know, a wrimaler.”
“Oh never mind, let’s just get on with the topic at hand and forget about me!”
For years, I’ve found it virtually impossible to title myself with the title that truly describes the dreamer inside my heart.
Admitting it seemed too proud… or presumptuous… or arrogant…or any of those uncomfortable, “Hey look at me” words that I so desperately wanted to avoid.
Even after a “real” publisher picked up my first book, I just couldn’t get the words, “I’m a writer,” past my lips.
This little quirk, or phobia, or whatever you want to call it did several things.
It annoyed my kids… If I wasn’t really a writer why was I bent over my computer screen so often?
It exasperated my husband… He proudly displayed, proclaimed, and announced all my writing projects. He just couldn’t understand my reticence.
It confused the people who bought my books. Were the books awful? Was I ashamed or embarrassed by the content?
And perhaps most importantly, my little quirk handcuffed me. It left me in the land of uncertainty. Uncertain about my dreams… my ideas… My Worth!
Let me tell you, the land of uncertainty is an awful place to live. It made me cranky and defensive and easily offended. All because I’d developed an allergy to those three little words… “I’m A Writer.”
Something had to change and it didn’t take long to realize that the something was ME. So, at my next speaking gig I gritted my teeth, took a deep breath, pasted a smile on my face, and boldly announced:
“I’m Megan Scheibner and I’m a writer.”
The floor didn’t open up to swallow me. I wasn’t struck by lightening. The world as we know it didn’t end. In fact, except for me, I don’t think anyone in the audience even realized what a monumental announcement they had just been privy to.
They didn’t realize the enormity of that moment, but I did!
That simple step of saying aloud what was already true in my heart and dreams was a pivotal moment of change in my life.
Certainly, it was important to admit to my audience that yes, indeed, I was a writer. But more importantly, that moment of admission finally gave me permission I needed to allow myself to be a writer.
It didn’t really matter how many books I’d already written.
It wasn’t important how many emails were on my mailing list.
It made no difference how many blog followers I had accumulated.
Until I freed myself to admit outwardly and inwardly the dream that was becoming reality in my life, I couldn’t completely live and love that dream.
Saying those words out loud led to some pretty eye-opening changes in both my writing and in the way that my family acknowledged my need to write.
I can’t wait to share some of those changes with you!
But that, my friends, is a blog for another day.
What’s your dream? Have you given yourself permission to become the dreamer that your dream demands?