Without dreams, I truly believe I would have drifted through life — reacting instead of leading, accepting instead of defining. Dreams gave me direction when the current of society tried to carry me somewhere smaller.

Living with a disability, I was very aware that society — and even parts of the service system — would be comfortable defining me for me. Labels were ready. Boxes were prepared. Expectations were already set.

But I learned something early: if I did not define who I was, someone else would. And their version of me would likely be limited.

It became my responsibility to decide who I was and what my purpose would be.

Growing up in a large family with many siblings turned out to be one of my greatest gifts. I watched my brothers and sisters dream boldly. I saw them make plans, choose schools, imagine careers, and step into lives they designed for themselves. Dreaming was normal in my house. It was expected.

So naturally, my earliest dreams were shaped by theirs.

I wanted to follow in their footsteps. I wanted to attend a private Catholic school. I wanted the same opportunities. I did not want a separate version of education because I had a disability. I wanted what they had — the full experience.

And I got it.

But that decision came with discomfort.

There were moments when I clearly did not “fit.” Some teachers told me directly that I did not belong there. They suggested I would be better off in a school designed only for students with disabilities. Those words could have easily planted doubt deep inside me.

Thankfully, my parents were unwavering. They kept telling me I was exactly where I needed to be. They believed in my ability before I fully understood it myself. Their confidence strengthened my own.

Still, belief alone was not enough. I had to bring courage into the classroom every day. I had to work hard — sometimes harder — to prove, mostly to myself, that I could do the work and graduate from those schools.

And I did.

In achieving within that environment, I discovered something powerful: I had strengths. Real strengths. Not “in spite of” my disability, but alongside it. I realized I was capable of learning, adapting, and persevering. That discovery gave me more than a good education — it gave me self-knowledge.

Understanding my strengths early in life became the foundation for bigger dreams. Once I knew what I was capable of, I no longer dreamed just to keep up. I began dreaming to make an impact.

Dreams stopped being about comparison and started being about purpose.

They gave my life depth. They added richness. They allowed me not just to participate in life, but to shape it.



And that is why dreams matter so much to me. They kept me from drifting. They kept me from shrinking. They helped me build a life defined not by limits — but by intention.