The Dreamer's Pen

Last night, I had a massage with James. His hands are healing. Wow. I feel so much calmer this morning. Centered. Grounded. Ready for a day of just being home, reflecting, and breathing.

A female colleague asked me recently, “What truly sets your soul on fire?” That question hasn’t left me alone. It made me stop. Really think. Not just about what I do, but why I do it. What pulls me out of myself. What actually matters.

I grew up working poor. My mom and dad both had heavy pasts. My mom was quietly strong, always keeping us afloat. My dad, a disabled veteran, worked tirelessly, even with his own traumas still there. Life was hard. Scarcity, tension, fear. But there was also laughter. Ingenuity. Little victories that mattered so much. That rhythm of surviving together, figuring it out taught me resilience. And in a weird way – mastery. Handling the small wins made me feel like I could survive… maybe even thrive.

That’s why I’m drawn to people who are struggling. I see myself in them. I feel their exhaustion. Their quiet courage. Their sparks of hope. Seeing suffering in this country sets my soul on fire. Not in a harsh way. But in a way that makes me want to go out there and help. Step into their lives. Do something. Make a difference.

Whenever I sit with a student or parent who’s overwhelmed, something sparks inside me. Helping them find clarity. Offering a little peace. Reminding them they’re not alone. That’s when I feel alive!!! I felt the same thing volunteering at a food bank years ago. Even in hardship, connection can exist. Humanity can shine.

Being an INFJ 4w5 explains so much of this. I feel everything. I notice what others miss. I think, reflect, and process… constantly. I want to help. But I also need space. Solitude. Time to think. That’s the 5 wing, the part of me that craves depth, understanding, meaning. I’m idealistic, yes. But strategic too. I want to make a real difference. Something that lasts.

I’m a chameleon. I can adapt. Navigate worlds. Wear faces. But even chameleons have limits. Eventually, I need spaces that reflect me. Finance doesn’t. It’s stable, but it’s also transactional. Draining. My heart wants stories. Connection. Real lives. Counseling. Mentoring. Coaching. Advocacy. That’s where my strengths meet my passions.

I’ve been thinking about nostalgia too like the kind I talked about yesterday. Familiarity. Mastery. Resilience based. The routines, the small victories, the rhythm of surviving with my parents. That nostalgia isn’t just longing. It’s a compass. Pointing me toward work that honors struggle. Builds resilience. Feels real.

Right now, I don’t know the path. And I’m learning to be okay with that. My husband and I have swung the pendulum back and forth over the years. When I earned my MBA, it was my turn. Now it’s his – training for the Police Academy. Once he’s in, we’ll swing it back to me. My season will come.

For now, I breathe. One breath at a time. In with the good, clarity, calm, and gratitude. Out with the bad, pressure, expectation, and needing all the answers.

Maybe peace isn’t about knowing everything. Maybe it’s about asking the right questions. Maybe it’s about honoring my parents and their love, endurance, and humanity. All while stepping into a life that finally feels like mine.

As an INFJ 4w5, I feel deeply. I notice what others overlook. I imagine possibilities. I see potential where others see struggle. I want to create spaces where resilience can flourish. That’s what lights my soul on fire. And I’m slowly learning to trust that the path will reveal itself. In its own time. In its own way