Chasing Dreams: Overcoming Obstacles in Pursuit of Passion

I know we have to put in the work. I’ve heard all the sayings, and I’ve bought into the notions. I’ve put my head down and plowed ahead, dreamed big and kept it to myself. I’ve dreamed big and told everyone. I don’t know if there’s a secret to success, but I do know how to blow up a project—my last attempt at pursuing my passion proved that.

I thought that if I created something familiar, like a restaurant, I could embed my passion within it and gain an audience that way. Turns out, that’s a lot of work just to get someone to listen to your podcast. By the way, when people go to eat a taco, they don’t go to listen to a podcast.

I’ve been putting myself out there for years, trying every tip and trick in the book. And yet, here I am, still searching for an answer to the question: What do you want to do for a living?

I want to do a podcast. I want to do a blog. I want to express myself.

But then there’s that voice: Yeah, but no one cares what you have to say.
That’s a tough way to make a living. You’ll never make it. No one will pay to hear you.

I’ve heard it. I’ve felt it. For 15 years, the naysayers have been right. My last attempt ended in a chaotic manic episode and a bipolar diagnosis. So, should I even be trying again?

If this is what I’ve always wanted to do, how can I stop? The truth is, I can’t stop trying.

I want to live up to the idea that if you work hard and don’t quit, it will all work out. I want to show my children that persistence pays off, that they can be whatever they want to be—not that their dad is a crazy bipolar madman who tried, lost his mind, and quit when things got tough.

That doesn’t have to be my story. I get to choose how I continue after a manic break. I get to try again. I get to believe—despite all evidence to the contrary—that if you want something bad enough and don’t quit, things will work out.

The quitting monster already tried to get me. Falling into a bipolar depression after my manic episode took me deep into suicidal ideation—the phase so many of us with this disorder fight. It took me to the psych ward. It took me to a place of embarrassment and shame where I didn’t want to get out of bed, let alone get behind a microphone and talk about what I know.

But I don’t want to let that define me.

I am here for a reason.

The voice inside me keeps pushing me to get up, keep going, trust myself, and believe in my purpose.