When Dreams Crash into Reality and Leave a Dent

It started with a Pinterest board. You know the kind—sun-drenched balconies in Tuscany, a macchiato in one hand, a novel manuscript in the other. My “dream life” was full of linen shirts, successful creative projects, and no trace of anxiety. I could see her so clearly—me, but freer. Me, but... figured out.

Fast-forward six months, and most days I’m floating in this strange in-between—unemployed, unsure, and spending way too much time watching other people live their lives online. Everyone else seems to have a plan, a passion, a purpose. Meanwhile, I’m just trying to remember what it feels like to want something with both feet. The Pinterest board still exists, somewhere in the cloud, but the dream? It’s lying on the pavement, windshield shattered, asking for a lawyer.

I don’t know what I want to do next. I just know it isn’t this—this version of “getting by,” this slow-motion walk away from the person I swore I was becoming. And that feeling? That’s the real kicker. It’s not failure—it’s misalignment. Like I’ve been walking a path that looks right from the outside but doesn’t hum with purpose when I put my feet on it.

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The Dream Looked Better from a Distance

You ever fall in love with the idea of something? A city, a job, a person... only to meet it up close and realize, oh. This is not what I thought. This dream was well-lit and beautifully curated, but it didn’t come with a warning label. Like: “Side effects may include financial instability, confusion, and a crisis of identity.”

That’s the part they don’t put on vision boards. The stuff you have to live to understand. Sometimes it’s not that the dream was bad—it just wasn’t built to survive real life. It didn’t account for your changing needs, your healing, or the ways you’d outgrow your old definitions of “success.”

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Letting Go (Without Giving Up)

Here’s the part no one warns you about: grieving a dream feels a lot like grieving a person. You go through the stages—denial, anger, bargaining, the whole mess. You mourn the version of you who believed in it so fiercely. You wonder if you're giving up or finally getting honest.

But here’s something I’m starting to believe: letting go of a dream that doesn’t fit is not failure. It’s clarity. It’s your gut saying, Hey, we tried. Let’s pivot. That dream got you moving. It gave you a shape to grow toward, even if it wasn’t the final form.

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Now What?

So what do you do when you’re standing in the rubble of your old plans, holding a roadmap that no longer applies?

1. Listen to the ache. That deep, low throb that says, “This isn’t it.” Don’t mute it. Let it speak.

2. Get curious. Not panicked. Curious. What lights you up, even a little? What makes you lose track of time?

3. Detach from timelines. Growth isn’t linear. The idea that you’re “behind” is just noise.

4. Redefine success. Maybe it's not the book deal or the six-figure job. Maybe it's waking up peaceful. Having space to breathe.

5. Build something smaller. Dreams don’t always start as fireworks. Sometimes they begin as a whisper, a hunch, a single brave choice.

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A Dream Rewritten

I still don’t know exactly what I’m meant to do next. But I know I want it to matter. I want it to feel like purpose, not just productivity. I want to build a life I don’t have to escape from—even if it doesn’t look good on a Pinterest board.

Maybe that’s what walking in your purpose really is. Not a grand arrival, but a quiet agreement with your soul: We’re going to figure this out. And we’re going to do it honestly.

Even if it takes time.

Even if the next dream arrives on crutches instead of a red carpet.

If you’re here too—floating in the in-between, unsure of what’s next—just know you’re not alone. You’re not broken. You’re not behind. You’re just becoming.

And when you're ready—don’t wait for a lightning bolt or a grand sign. Start with one small, honest step. Something soft. Something real. Something that feels like you, even if only a little. That’s enough. That’s movement. That’s hope.

xoxo,

Carmen