Broken Dreams, Expectations or Inquiry on What it Means to be SuccessfulWhen I was just 5 years old the sound of the drums hit me hard. Thumped direct to my heart. When the bass drum hit I could actually feel it, like the excitement of the drop and lift of a roller coaster, in my chest cavity, my heart chakra.
That’s when my uncle gave me a pair of drumsticks and I’ve been drumming ever since.
Now, on to the the hard stuff. Life. My family was a middle class family. My dad worked for PG&E and mom was stay at home. Dad was anxious and rigid, a great provider but pretty much a dead board in the emotion department. He had cut off his sensitivities long ago when his father taught him men should be men. There was no room for sensitivity and emotional connection. Men worked, didn’t fail. if they did fail they got back up and didn’t cry about it.
My dad, a boy who had cut off his sensitivities long ago, shut down his dreams, whatever they may have been, got married, had kids and “did the right thing.”
We start out having dreams. My dream was to keep alive the feeling I first had when I heard the drums.
Although my mom supported my creativity my dad thought it wasn’t viable in the “real world.” The discord between the expectations of my father and the nurturing of my mother created an unconscious gnawing feeling in me that what I was doing was, although good, not really worthy or sustainable in this world.
My mom fostered my creativity while my dad seemed to resent it. I was caught in betwixt in between. I finally rebelled against my dads rigidity by not going to college and pursuing my dream of playing the drums, but as time went on I was not prepared for the tough dog eat dog world of making a living playing music.
Moving to L.A. I doggedly pursued my drumming and played with quite a few amazing bands, looking for that record contract and the dream of “making it”. After a few years of “almost making it” I was worn down and re-evaluating.
Fast forward 25 years: I raised a great son, still play the drums passionately and love creativity. I never did “settle down” and have had quite a few “bumps” along the way. I’m still pursuing my dreams of “making a living” through my creativity as opposed to getting an 8-5 job. I’m still struggling with the feeling that I’m not “good enough” because I was not able to acquire the large house, all the “toys”, the RV and ultimately retire...yet.But the struggle never ends until we pass and I’m grateful that I’m still passionately involved instead waiting to die on a comfortable couch fat and supposedly happy.