When I was a kid, I really believed that anything could happen. I thought that I could be an astronaut or a lawyer, or marry Prince Harry and have tea with the Queen, or host a talk show like Rosie O'Donnell (hey, these were the days before Ellen and back when Rosie was still super nice). I dreamed of driving a Jeep like Cher in Clueless and living in a house like the Tanners' on Full House. It seems so weird now - the days when I had no idea what I would be when I grew up and anything seemed possible.
As I grew up, those dreams continued. I went to college to get a degree so I could get a "good" job - doing what, I never knew. With the good job would come a dream car (though my tastes changed, naturally) and an amazing house. I had no idea what the future held.
But somewhere along the way, I grew up. I finished college and got a job that wasn't my dream (and later, one I really liked - with a nonprofit). I fell in love with and married a man who lived in a house that was, well, just a house. Having a dream car became less important and having a practical, affordable car took over. I realized that I was never going to be discovered so my talk show dreams would just have to be lived out via social media. And it's all okay. But I've been thinking - when was the moment when everything stopped being possible and enough became enough?
I love the idea of being a dreamer. Yes, I still dream about a better house and maybe a nicer car one day. But I know I'll never own a mansion with more rooms than I can count, unless there's a lottery win in the future. I'm not traveling to outer space and Kanye and I won't ever frequent the same car dealership. And I'm fine with it (but Harry, you can still call me - Andrew would understand, I'm sure). I'm proud of what I've accomplished, what we have, and what I'm able to do.
I am enough and I have enough. Growing up, I lived in a very paycheck-to-paycheck home. Dinner out was the Wendy's Dollar Menu. I grew up living in an apartment in the suburbs of Houston and my parents both drove cars without working ACs in the summer heat. My parents did the best they could, and it wasn't until I was older that I realized how tough it must have been for them. Now, as an adult with my own money, I appreciate not living that way. I love that a $5 Starbucks is a little luxury, not a cause for bouncing a check, and that I can grab a new nail polish at the store without a second thought. It isn't a lot, but for a little girl who never grew up being allowed to grab M&Ms in the checkout line, it's big. It's a sign of achieving a dream I never really knew I had.
I have work that lets me be creative and gives me the attention that my only-childness craves without being in the spotlight, which makes me turn red. I have a husband, who, while not a Prince, is pretty darn great. We have a fun home life that would make almost anyone jealous in the best way - not an "I hate you" way, but in an "I want to have that much fun, too" kind of way. We laugh all the time and we have a lot of the same dreams about making our enough into just a little bit more.
So I guess my point is this: anything might still be possible, but settling for just enough shouldn't feel like settling at all. It's okay to dream, but it's more important to just be content.
All of that, and maybe, one day, I'll go buy myself a Jeep.