Are You Dreaming YOUR Dream? 


By Ariel Minter 

After several heartbreaks, I finally realized I was dreaming a dream that was not my own. 

I have been in love with four people in my lifetime. And to the first three, I owe you a big apology. An apology of a stolen dream and a ferocious need for YOU to have filled that dream. So if we speak still or not, here is the sorry from me to you. And to the fourth, well I have no apologies because the dream with you is very real and very alive (ahem, I love you hubby!) 

So, to explain….

My parents had a fairytale love story. They met at 18, experienced love upon first conversation, and exchanged love letters to each other for eight months while they planned their wedding 500 miles apart. By 23, they had two baby girls 16-months apart, their first home, and my father was making a solid income with his Occupational Therapy degree. 

From a very early age, I was set on experiencing my concept of “success” in a similar fashion. I was set on following in my mothers footsteps. I was convinced that in order TO HAVE HAPPINESS, I had to recreate my parents’ story. My first love was at 14, and I think a lifetime of happiness is a bit much to expect from a 16 year old boyfriend. It was not his fault that my dream was unattainable. Honestly, thank goodness, because we would not have been able to make each other happy at any age. 

But I was still determined that that was MY dream. That was going to be MY legacy, too. I hadn’t ever considered a different option. Poor boys. In having a relationship with me, it was doomed from the beginning, because lets all get real….many boys/men are hardly thinking about marriage before they can even legally drink. 

The cycle stated above repeated with my second and third loves as well. The issue here was that I was putting the relationships failures as their fault. They weren’t “man enough” to “step up to the plate” of an eternal commitment. Shame on me for expecting that. Shame on them for insinuating it could potentially happen. 

Love number three was tragic. I thought it was a meant to be destiny. I finally came to some reality about my borrowed dream when he explained to me that he wanted it to work, but to basically contact him in 5-8 years after he had the opportunity to “be able to have one night stands.” 

I know, WHAT THE #[email protected]^?! But, at the same time, I respect that he was able to have that honesty with our relationship. He was the first person to tell me my dream wasn’t realistic. He was also the first person to allow me to understand that the dream wasn’t even mine

Walking away from that relationship was one of the most pivotal decisions of my life. I am forever grateful to Love Number Three, because he loved me enough to break my heart. And to shatter my borrowed dream. He loved me enough to WAKE ME UP. 

It may seem immature and rude for a man/boy to tell me that he wanted to have one night stands and for me to be grateful for that. But it changed my life. 

In the years to follow, I couldn’t let go of that heartache. I felt it everyday. And time didn’t heal it. Everyone kept telling me it would dissipate, but it never did

Finally, I couldn’t bare it anymore. So I decided to follow the Passion Provokers forgiveness process. It took 6 weeks of commitment. On week 5 I worked on the forgiveness to Love Number Three. I did NOT want to let it go. I didn’t even want to say the words “I choose to forgive you now” (this process isn’t like an amends where I actually contacted the guy, I just had to say it out loud for, and to, myself). 

Three years after this heartache I finally had closure. I finally was able to define a NEW dream for myself. What I really absolutely wanted for ME in my own life. Letting go of the borrowed dream allowed me to actually build my own.

The day after my 5th Passion Provokers Session, I went out of town with one of my best girlfriends. That night I met my husband.

I don’t know what kind of higher power you believe or don’t believe in. But I do not believe it was just a coincidence that the day after I allowed myself to move on from Love Number Three, I met my forever soulmate. It was like the universe was saying “Okay, now I can give you what you have really been NEEDING and what you actually deserve.” 

I don’t own a house. I don’t have two children. I didn’t marry the first person I thought was my soulmate. 

I forgave Love Number Three. I forgave myself for living a borrowed dream. I forgave the borrowed dreams. And I was given the ultimate gift: a life partner who builds his dreams with mine.

Are you living a borrowed dream? Are you refusing to even utter the words “I forgive you”? Are you still hurting and reeling from something that happened years ago, and angry at everyone who tells you time will heal it? 

I’ve experienced all of those things. I promise, there is way more to dream and believe in. I promise that once you CHOOSE to forgive, you will be faced with what you have actually been wanting/needing. 

Forgive yourself. Wake up and become a Dreamer of the Day.

Why the C-word is Destroying You

By Ariel Minter

My family began moving around the Western part of the United States when I was six. I’ve lived in three States, nine cities, and have memorized close to 16 different addresses (note, that was past tense, I could only tell you about three of those addresses now). 

In each move, my older sister and I were able to reestablish ourselves, and were often referred to as “the new girls”. Since my sister is just 16 months older than me, we always were able to make new friends fairly simply, knowing we could sit together at lunch until we were able to branch out separately. And for that, I feel very lucky. 

I discovered quickly just how much better is was to be “one of the guys” as opposed to trying to jump into a girl clique right off the bat. In most places, I had a healthy amount of both guy and girl friends. However, I almost always had guy friends first (and the WHY behind that is a completely different blog, so stay tuned on that one!). Guys were accepting and fun, and I was never afraid of a secret three-way phone call from any of them. 

So as the years progressed, cops and robber become video games and best friends became crushes. My first real boyfriend was in 8th grade, but shortly after that relationship we moved yet again. And the cycle repeated. My sister and I became extremely close to the boys who lived in the new neighborhood, and soon I had a crush on one in particular, and we spent our nights climbing half-way built houses, playing hide-and-seek in our then giant house, telling inappropriate jokes, using curse words too easily, and claiming the neighborhood as ours. 

I learned some crucial things about being a “cool” girlfriend. If your boyfriend doesn’t answer, don’t call another five times. If they do something you don’t like, be careful how you say you don’t like it, otherwise your “nagging”. And God forbid you ever send multiple texts without a reply. ANY girl that did that was put on blast by the guys. ANY girl that behaved that way was “crazy”. 

I would die before being called crazy. So, I was completely taken advantage of. There was no good alternative (besides what my parents would have liked, which was not having a boyfriend in the first place, which I can certainly understand and appreciate now). I allowed myself to be a doormat in a lot of ways. Like I said, I would have rather died than be labeled as “crazy”. 

And you know what the CRAZIEST thing about this situation was? It never changed. In fact, the rules multiplied, which meant that basically anything a girl said to her boyfriend could be turned around and translated to “crazy”. And that was it. After they said those words, it was like some kind of anointing and that was you. Crazy, crazy, crazy. I really can’t even tell you how many times, after a breakup (especially if the girl broke up with the guy) my guy friend would not shut up about how CRAZY she was. It must have been similar to being blacklisted during the Cold War. You were poison after that. 

This cycle hasn’t even really changed. Right out of high school I sort of allowed myself to be crazy. It felt extremely freeing. I decided to not pay attention, because now I could act out in a certain way and there wasn’t an entire school knowing all the details with me as well. I found peace in the anonymity of college. But I still felt like crap, because not caring if you’re called “crazy” means you act a bit like a caged animal who finally has an open door to walk through.

I’m not sure how much has changed about this crazy cycle since I graduated. I don’t think a whole lot has, because to this day I hear a lot of my guy friends talking about how crazy certain girls are. But I did finally come to the conclusion that yes, women are crazy. All of us are. We are ALL (men included) on that scale. And you know what, guys? You kind of make us that way. 

There is no way you can stop the hormones, the drama, or the fact that people can be unpredictable. But we can all be kinder towards one another. And we can practice not throwing the C-word around like it is going out of style. 

Do YOU feel crazy? Or do you feel like your partner makes you absolutely insane? Maybe you finally are with someone where those roles aren’t completely filled with those stereotypes, which is fantastic. However, the crazy doesn’t go away just because you choose to be with someone else. Crazy lies dormant until you fix YOU. Maybe when your craziness simmers down, your partner will want the same. 

One thing that Passion Provokers is really good at doing is figuring out how to end the crazy, or just figuring out where the crazy comes from in the first place.