I was four years old when I was first asked what I wanted to be when I grew up. I said a Princess.

At the young age of seven, my primary school teacher asked the class to think hard about what we wanted be when we became adults; I told my class I was going to be a professional football player. My teacher frowned at me, told me to sit down and that I was silly for thinking girls could play football.

At ten, I told a family friend I was going to be a doctor, “That’s ridiculous Tara, you have to study for a long, long time to become a doctor.”

Age thirteen, I told anyone who would listen that my calling in life was acting. I was going to be the next Nicole Kidman; they told me to chose another calling, my brother said choose Coles.

I stopped telling people after that.

When faced with the now loathed question of “ So, what are you going to do when you grow up?” I would simply make a joke and say I intend to never grow up and leave it at that. Why bother with anything else? It seemed no matter what I said, there was always someone to tell you it was too hard; too unrealistic, too silly.

Everyone that is , except my parents. But unfortunately as I grew older, their wise, loving parental advice to follow my dreams were drowned out by the harsh shouting of reality. Nobody wants to feel they are living their life on the wrong path, it can get pretty lonely walking against the crowd. So, after high school I spent years trying to find happiness in living other peoples dreams. Sick of being called a “dreamer” I planted my feet firmly on the ground and got on with it. I was living the dream; great job, nice steady boyfriend, travel. It was enough that friends and family could take a breath; I had found normality and finally they could put me in a nice little pigeon hole…Successful.

But what do you really want to be?

I grew depressed. Not sad, not just a little down. Depressed. A huge pool of sadness, stole the air for my lungs and the life from my veins. I had crumbled into a million pieces and had no idea how I was going to put myself back together.

Now before you skip the rest of this, thinking I’m going to get all Oprah on your arse, and tell you my secret steps of recovery, don’t worry – I got nothing…except for this.

Find what it is you love to do…and do it. Its really that simple.

All those years of listening to the ‘sensible people’, the people who believe it’s  within their rights to shit on your dreams, I had lost my confidence. I wanted to write, yet I hadn’t picked up a pen in over three years, I wanted to act, yet I never allowed myself to take a class.

It’s the hardest decision you will ever make; to chose to be happy, and to give yourself the permission to find what it is that makes your soul full, is bloody difficult. It goes against the grain, its scary, but it’s the only thing that saved me.

I started to write right here for Tune In Not Out as a way of dipping my toe into a different life. A life where I was no longer afraid to believe in myself. I now write a weekly blog for Cosmopolitan online ( Sex and the Cosmo girl), I also have several articles appearing in the January issue of Cleo. I tell you this not to brag in my greatness, but to show you anything is possible. I never would have believed I could write for two of Australia’s top womans mag’s. I was the dreamer, the flake..who would have guessed?

So do it…Find what makes you happy, and do it. I promise you this, you will never look back.

xx Tara

Thank you to Student Edge for supporting the development of this blog through the provision on a rather fantastic Goodie Bag.

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Image Acknowledgement

*Remember Who You Are Image By m kasahara under Creative Commons Licence

You Could be So Man Thins Image By Alyson_H under Creative Commons Licence

Tags: dreams, inspiration, work