I recently returned from New York. While there, I didn't do that much exploring, or sightseeing, nor did I take in any shows.
I worked, around fourteen hours a day. Then I came home.
A lot of this work involved reporting on what other people were doing, in an industry that I'm not a part of. I supported other people's efforts in health and safety, better career options for women, and building the product I work to produce.
Nothing wrong with any of that - helping out other people, helping worthy causes, making an honest buck. Right?
Actually when I was there, even as I was engaged in much of this, I had the distinct awareness that although all of this was at best worthwhile, and at worst harmless, something was off.
In everything I was doing, be it for someone else or for my own employer, I was helping to further someone else's dream. I identified that this is how, for many years, I have talked myself into continuing to do what I do.
But there's something missing at the heart of it all.
Where is my dream? What is my story?
I've been so busy helping others or telling their stories, that I've lost my own voice. I've been a cog in someone else's dream all along. It's a safe and easy place to be, for the most part. But often, it's hard to truly be myself.
And it's that dream, the one that never belonged to me, that I want to wake up from.