That Terrifying Moment You Realize You Have Everything You Ever Wanted.

One morning last year I woke up in the grip of paralyzing anxiety with the realization that (almost) all my dreams had come true.

In 2019 the ink was barely dry on my final divorce orders, and my then-boyfriend Ben and I were in Bend, Oregon for our very first “think week.” In the week before we left, I heard a podcast describing the concept of writing about Your Perfect Day in 5 years as a tool for manifestation and had decided to do this exercise. In those days I was pretty interested in figuring out how to make things happen the easy way. I know. Cute, right?

Back then, I was still fully ensconced in the “I’m fine” denial of my 18-year relationship imploding while navigating the rollercoaster highs and crushing insecurity of a new relationship while working as a family law litigator in a Big City just weeks before the first whispers of a virus in China would trigger a complete nervous breakdown. Basically, I was minutes away from losing it entirely, but I had no awareness of this at the time, so I was able to channel some of my characteristic boundless irrational optimism to craft my Perfect Day in 5 Years.

I sat at a little table overlooking the Deschutes river, closed my eyes, and imagined one perfect day in 5 years’ time. And then I started writing.

I wrote that I woke up next to Ben and “marveled at the view” of the mountains as the sun rose. In 2019, I had moved in with him to his house in Phinney Ridge in Seattle. We both worked in offices downtown. It was fun having a city moment, but I was longing to get back to the mountains. 

I wrote that I could see my horses from my kitchen window. I imagined a farm with green pastures at the base of the mountains. This part of the vision was particularly poignant for me. Living with my horses had been a lifelong dream that I had a brief taste of before my ex and I divorced. We had a farm on top of a mountain in central Washington, with a breathtaking territorial view and a breathtakingly terrifying driveway. We sold it only two years after we bought it as part of our divorce. I was careful in this new vision to place the farm in the valley bottom with plenty of water and easy access to the county-maintained road.

I wrote that I had my own business and worked from home.

I wrote that Ben was also home and that we could spend time together in the middle of the day.

I wrote about the relationship that we had. I wrote that we were partners, that we communicated well, and that we had a satisfying intimate relationship. I imagined the constant insecurity was a thing of the past.

I also wrote that I “hadn’t had to worry about money in a long time,” and spoiler alert, that’s the part I’m still working on.

That was the dream I had in the fall of 2019 that I imagined coming true in 5 years.

And then I woke up in the fall of 2024, bolted upright in bed and thought, “Oh, fuck. I did it.”

I had woken up next to Ben (who had recently become my fiancé) and marveled at the view of the mountains over the green pasture where my horses were grazing that I could see from my kitchen and my bedroom.

I had recently quit a job at a law firm and had gone back to my own practice which I ran from a spare bedroom in our home. Ben was one of the few lucky tech workers who hadn’t had to go back to the office following the covid work from home days and had an office in our barn.

I had done it. We had done it. We moved to the mountains, bought a farm, worked from home, got engaged, had a great relationship, and it freaked me out. Those 5 years had been hard. I was an absolute hot mess for at least 4 of them. Ben and I struggled in our relationship, I struggled in my career, my dogs died, and my identity collapsed.  

And then, one day, everything was as it should be.

My first thought following the realization was something along the lines of, “oh, shit, maybe I am a witch.” (I still refuse to rule this out.)

And then I had a moment of blissful gratitude.

And then, back to panic at the thought that it can probably only go downhill from here.

And then I realized that I hadn’t even really noticed that my dreams had come true because I was so busy focusing on things like how stressful my job is and how I don’t have a covered arena and that the chicken coop needs to be cleaned and that Piper (one of my horses) had gotten fat on the rich grass pasture and I was worried about her metabolic health and that, now that I think about it, I don’t even have time to ride my horses so what is the point of all this anyway?

It’s exhausting just to write that paragraph.

As I laid there feeling my heart race in my chest, I began to understand that I still had work to do, and that I still had dreams, and that, by golly, I was capable of doing really incredible things if I set my mind to it. No pressure or anything.

It’s been another year since that moment, and it’s stuck with me. This year has been far less exciting than those prior 5 years, but I’m good with that. I’m ready for my putting-down-roots era. I’ve had my fill of adventure for a while.

I wanted to get back to writing for all the people who feel like they are at the end of something and don’t know what to do next. I want you to know that this is actually just the beginning. In storytelling they call this the “inciting incident.” It’s the thing that happens to the hero that disrupts the world they’ve always known, and sets them off on a grand adventure. It’s scary and exciting, and, I hate to break it to you, unavoidable.

But the good news is, you’re not alone. It’s my hope that by sharing what I’ve learned on my journey through the dark and scary woods (with a side quest to the pit of despair), it might help your journey feel a little less frightening.

If this is something you’re interested in hearing more about, do me a favor and subscribe to my email list below. You’ll get notified of new posts, and in exchange, I get the feeling that there’s someone out there to write for.