Cleaning out your dreams closet

Dreams are wonderful things. They inspire us, nourish us, propel us forward to new accomplishments, and often make us better. We humans are truly blessed to have them. We can also outgrow them. Sometimes, dreams need replacing, a little like clothing that has served so well we've finally worn it out or which, after years of service, doesn't suit our age and stage.

This happened to me a few weeks ago, when I laid a cherished dream to rest. As you will discover if you read on, however, I feel freer and happier now. I thought I would share the story with you in case you have a similarly outdated dream hanging in your closet.

The catalyst for this retirement was a conversation with a friend (somewhat influenced by The Big Bang Theory episode in which Penny proposes to Leonard.:)) We were talking about my aspirations so she could help me to make some important decisions. I told her what I'd been dreaming of for the last seven years, ever since I'd moved from Montreal to Vancouver. In brief, I wanted to turn my passion for mental and physical well-being into a career and, eventually, into my own business. I'd mulled over what this might look like and investigated a number of pathways, from nutritionist/personal trainer/yoga instructor to HR specialist to psychologist before settling on a combination of counsellor and life coach.

To make a long story short, we realized that I had two options: I could either keep dreaming and getting more frustrated with my life or I could act. Time has a way of speeding by, and if I didn't do something now, I wasn't likely to get around to it until it was too late.

Back at home, I proceeded to find out what it would take in terms of time, schooling and experience to go from apprentice fundraiser to counsellor/life coach. The answer: a handful of prerequisites ($2,700), two years' worth of full-time studies ($50,000), living costs ($36,000), and the courage to re-enter the work force at the bottom of the food chain. The price tag wasn't trivial, and there would be a certain amount of risk involved, but I thought I could handle it.

It took two info sessions, much web surfing and a handful of interviews with practicing counsellors before I'd narrowed down the contenders a single school. There was just one fly in the ointment. The institution in question has a strong social-justice bent, and I didn't think I shared its views entirely. As a final precaution, I made appointments to speak with two program directors -- one for each of the master's of psychology degrees I was interested in.

On a beautiful, slightly chilly spring morning, an expectant Ms. Slim found herself in the waiting room of her future alma mater. Exactly two meetings and two-and-a-half hours later, she stepped into the sunlight dazed and confused.

I'd gone in expecting to rubber stamp my plans for the future. I'd come out -- turned around. What had happened?

**Stay with me for the next post. I'm further from the finish line than I expected, and I don't want to foist a mammoth entry on you.**