I've always admired people who have unrelenting enthusiasm. The kind that provokes them to shout their passions from the mountaintops, share their stories with their friends and family, restlessly pursue their dreams until they are made real, and seek help and encouragement along the way.
These are the courageous ones. The ones that put their desires out into the world despite the possibility that they could be judged for them. These people choose to overcome their fears in order to accomplish something greater.
It's often easy to allow the fear of being judged to stifle the desire to share our dreams with the world. But, once we allow this fear to prevail, we risk becoming numb to the fact that we have ideas and goals at all. We reason that if we aren't going to act on our dreams due to the notion that society is going to shun us for them, why bother caring about them in the first place?
Well, the answer is that not caring about our own dreams is one of the gravest forms of self disrespect. Everyone has an idea, a thought, a drawing, a dance, a touch, a song, ... something ... that can change the world — even if only in a small way. Not everyone will respect this offering, but there will always be someone; not that the approval of others is ever a necessity. Sometimes it's just as good to do something for ourselves alone and not care what other people may think.
Don't let anyone — or even just the thought of anyone — making fun of you or your ideas numb your passion for life. Believe in yourself. Learn to recognize the difference between constructive criticism and hateful or pointless opinions. And, most importantly, start working on making all those dreams into reality! Share them with your family and friends. Ask for help when you need it. Set your own expectations for life and allow yourself to live up to them. Let yourself feel both the disappointment and the joy. Dream your dreams, live your life, be who you really are, learn to love yourself.
In case you're wondering, this post — and its title — was inspired by an article on The Awl entitled, "My Life is a Beige, Pointless Hellscape." Who knew a post with a title like that could be so relatable? And isn't the word "hellscape" pretty awesome? ...thanks to Nubby Twigglet for the link.
Here's an excerpt from the article:
"I was happy to paint myself as a mess, but I was not ok with someone else observing some flaw that I hadn't pointed out already, especially if that flaw was related to naïve optimism and hope.
[...] We mine the disappointments of our childhood, and the disappointments of our chemistry, and we craft them into self-protective armor that keeps us safe from needing other people, from needing our dreams, from needing anything. We are really fucking safe, and nothing adds up to anything, and nothing is worth doing."