It’s not much, but my dream has been to have an apartment and consistent income at the same time.
I’m 40 and I’m about to achieve it.
I honestly can even remember my other dreams except in the faintest of washed out images.
Joining a men’s group helped. Working through trauma has freed up a lot of my mental resources. I can work more, I’m less prone to escape into drugs, junk food, whatever. I’m able to recognize my feelings and hence can make decisions easily instead of always having to think them through.
I’m a little envious of those who had this stability in their twenties — a place of their own, that they can organize however they like and be alone whenever they want, plus money to furnish it and not worry about bills going unpaid. But mostly I’ve learned not to compare because it’s so damned painful and unproductive.
I’d say fundamentally the way I achieved it was by learning to take baby steps. A year ago I was homeless. I got a job washing cars. Now I’m a kitchen designer and I’m about to get my own apartment.
I wish I had this kind of mental health twenty years ago. But I’m glad I didn’t go another twenty years without attaining it.