The Cost of a Dream

“Don’t tell me what you did, tell me who helped you get there.”

It was some time in November. We had waited until 3AM to start a fight, naturally. His world was shifting and mine was, too. They were shifting in opposite directions and quick. There was a growing ocean between us, and we had no idea how to meet halfway or whether we could stay afloat if we did.

He told me that he was leaning into his dance… that I wouldn’t ever understand what it was like for him to balance work, dance, and a full-time relationship. And it’s the truth, I didn’t know. I wouldn’t know. I still don’t know. But I did know that my dream wouldn’t be worth it if I didn’t have the people I love with me. I still stand by my statement. It was obvious he had to re-prioritize. I didn’t make the cut.

A mutual friend had mentioned recently that this tends to happen — men have societal pressures to fulfill their dreams no matter the cost. (Of course, this isn’t applicable to just men.) I’ve had so many questions, since. When does the cost become too much? And how much is a dream truly worth?

Coming home, I’ve realized that my support network is much larger than I ever imagined. They take me places and to emotional spaces I didn’t know I dreamt of — from New York and bliss to Vermont and independence to Chicago and spontaneity to Montana and depth… the things I have experienced and anticipate on experiencing mean nothing without the people that continue to push me forward.

Sometimes, it takes sacrificing that one good relationship to invite plenty more good relationships in. I’m serving tea to what serves me. So when someone asks you what you’re proud of, I hope it can be the people you’ve chosen. Don’t tell me what you did, tell me who helped you get there.