How I Made a Life Chasing Broken Dreams

A story about a broken kid

A long time ago, in a land far, far away.

I was born during a civil war that tore my country apart. South against the north, east against west, and no family could rest.

However, if you ask me about my childhood, I would say, "I had a great childhood." My parent did their best to shelter my sibling and me from the raging war.

And, Like any kid with a healthy imagination and supportive parents, I had a million dreams. However, three dreams stayed with me throughout my life and shaped the work I do today.

My three dreams were soccer, journalism, and counseling.

The First Broken Dream: Soccer

As a young child, I wanted to be a soccer superstar.

I still remember gluing my face to the TV screen and watching my favorite team play. Although, my favorite team was not very good. I still feel the joy in my heart every time they win, but I also feel the anguish anytime they lose.

Whenever my favorite team lost, I would go outside my house to practice my game. I would imagine myself as the superstar that would save my favorite team from their misery.

I did not become a soccer superstar.

The Second Broken Dream: Journalism

I had another dream. I wanted to be a journalist.

If you ever get a chance to visit my mother's house, you should ask her about my early work as a young journalist.

My mother still keeps my early work in a little rustic box under her bed. I used to walk around the house holding a hairbrush as a microphone and interview my brothers and sisters about their day. When my dad returned from work, I would run to the door to report the news to him. He used to encourage me to keep going on, "Great work, young man."

I wanted to be an investigative reporter that would unearth all the corruption that tore my beloved country Lebanon apart. I was determined to end the war through my work.

Needless to say, I did not become a reporter.

The Third Broken Dream: Counselor

I failed again, but I had another dream. I wanted to be a counselor.

Growing up in a civil war, you see many fractured dreams, shattered hopes, and fragmented families. Most of my friends lost their dads before they reached their teen years, and I saw how that impacted them. I wanted to be the psychologist that brought peace to people's lives and healed the country. I used to stand at the street corner and dispense my wisdom to my friends and anybody willing to listen.

As soon as I graduated high school, I followed my heart, traveled the globe, and settled in Toledo, Ohio. I wasn't running away from my childhood. On the contrary, I wanted my childhood to shape my work for the rest of my life.

Not Good Enough

After high school, I learned that I wasn't good enough to be a soccer superstar, so I stopped playing. I convinced myself that my favorite team didn't need my help to win a championship, and they proved me right a few years later.

They became champions, and I moved to Arlington, Texas.

You Can't Be a Journalist.

When I moved to Texas, I went to see my college advisor in the communication department.

She was a beautiful woman in her 50s with white hair, thick glasses, and red lips. She was sipping on her hot tea like Queen Elizabeth and leaving a trace of lipstick on her white cup. With broken English, I asked her about the communication degree requirement.

She looked at me from over her glasses and said, "Since English is your second language, I don't think you should study journalism," just like that, she broke my dream and my heart simultaneously.

I left her office dejected, head down, with a few tears, and walked to the first building I saw. It was The Life Sciences Building.

Not a Therapist

I still had one last dream that I could achieve. Being a therapist, I didn't feel like challenging myself anymore. I was tired of rejection.

I was always fascinated by the human mind and how people react to different social triggers, so I chose to study forensic biology. However, I was interested in examining crime scenes less than I was interested in understanding human behavior.

Dead bodies do not talk, but they communicate their stories without words. I wanted to be an investigator to be their voice. So, I graduated with a forensic biology degree but not a psychology.

The Last Dance

I started to work at the City of Fort Worth in the public health department.

I got married and had two beautiful boys, but I was not fulfilled because I didn't become a soccer superstar, journalist, or therapist.

I returned to school to complete my MBA and focused on organizational and consumer behavior. I'm still fascinated by why people behave a certain way. Two years later, I was driving north on Cooper Street, holding my MBA degree in one hand and the steering wheel with the other.

My kids were in the backseat crying, but I had no worries. I was one step closer to achieving some of my childhood dreams and doing the work I love.

The Work I Do Today

I started to examine how to use my degree to help others.

Instead of being a soccer player, I started to coach my kid's soccer team. Instead of being a journalist, I began to blog, and I have 1000s people who are generous enough to read my writing.

Instead of being a counselor, I consulted small businesses on building better systems and unlocking their team's potential. I was able to go back and realize my dreams. These three dreams shape everything that I do.

I once let a college advisor determine my future, but I will no longer listen to anyone but my heart on what to do next.

Tell me, Why do you do what you do?

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