There’s something a friend said to me last year that has refused to leave me.
She said, “My friend, to truly achieve your dreams and reignite your passion, you have to remember who you were as a child. You need to remember the things that made you happy.”
At the time, I brushed it off. I mean—how could I dwell on who I was as a child when there’s so much space now between that little girl and the woman I’ve become?
But her words lingered. And the more I thought about them, the harder they became to shake.
Because she had a point.
We’re a culmination of every person we’ve met, every experience we’ve lived—but before life handed us all its storms, before heartbreak and disappointment and bills and broken promises, we were children. Innocent children. And if you were one of the lucky ones, you were protected. You were adored. You were allowed to be curious. To ask questions. To be silly. To dream freely, wildly, without boundaries or rules or voices telling you what you could and couldn’t do.
That’s the magic of childhood: everything feels within reach. Nothing feels too big.
But as we get older, this thing called logic creeps in. And for many of us, it becomes a dream killer.
The weight of reality begins to chip away at our belief in the impossible. Some adults stop dreaming altogether—not because they don’t want to—but because they’ve forgotten how. They’ve forgotten what it feels like to want something so big that it makes your heart race.
Last year, I didn’t realize how sacred her words would become to me.
I was starting to forget what had made me me.
The joy. The wild dreams. The insane faith. The love for life.
It was all slipping away, and my then-fiancé didn’t make it any easier.
In that relationship, my dreams were often too much, too big, or simply inconvenient. They were something to compromise or tuck away.
Now that I’m single, I feel free. And honestly, that freedom feels strange.
You know how you dip your toe into a cold pool before diving in? That’s exactly how I felt. Like I needed to test the waters before I could fully let myself sink into the waves of my dreams again. My dreams started to form around people, practicalities and logic and don’t get me wrong these are important things but if you’re not careful these are also things that can become dream killers. They kill, murder and destroy, you might even start telling yourself that:
“Maybe I’ve outgrown these dreams.”
But have you really? Have I really?
Recently, I started doing something I originally wanted to save for when I had children. But now, as a single woman trying to find her way back to herself, it feels like the perfect time… I started rewatching my favorite childhood movies.
One that really stuck with me was Peter Pan: Return to Neverland. It hit differently this time. I actually loved it more now than I did as a kid.
It’s about a thirteen-year-old girl who starts to lose her sense of wonder—her belief in magic—because of the weight of World War I and the responsibility of caring for her younger brother.
As the oldest of six girls, that hit home. I know what it’s like to grow up too fast. I know what it’s like to slowly stop believing in magic. And I am the kid of person that truly did believe the world had a lot of magic.
Slowly, I am trying to remember who I was a child. I was so fearless; I didn’t give a damn about what anyone said or thought about me and I was so happy and curious and in love with the world and the people around me. My hope is that through rewatching my favorite movies and rereading my favorite books as a child. That young girl that is still inside of me will come out and when she does, I hope that I will have created a space where she is totally allowed to dream and to be without judgment.
