The Direction That Belonged to Her

The Direction That Belonged to Her

Trusting the Courage to Choose Again

When we are children, people often ask us what we want to be when we grow up. Most of us answer with whatever has captured our imagination at the time. Something we saw. Something we loved. A world we wanted to understand more deeply.

At that age, we are not thinking about salaries, degrees, job markets, or whether the life surrounding that dream will actually suit us. We only know that something has our attention, so we name it.

Sometimes, without meaning to, that answer begins to feel like a promise. The longer we carry it, the more attached we can become to the person we imagined we would be. We begin to believe that changing direction would mean we failed to become who we said we were going to become.

But what if our first dreams were never meant to tell us exactly where we would end up?

What if they were simply introducing us to something true?

The Dream She First Named

My daughter Kayla was about three or four years old when she fell in love with the ocean.

At the time, I was working evenings. When I came home, she would sometimes wake up and want to spend time with me, so we would watch a movie together.

Her favorite was Finding Nemo.

She was completely drawn into that world. The fish, the coral, the ocean, and all the creatures living beneath the surface. She wanted to know about them. She cared about them.

Somewhere during those nights sitting together, her dream of becoming a marine biologist began.

It made sense. She loved animals, cared about the ocean, and wanted to protect marine life. But that was not the only part of herself she was already revealing.

Kayla also loved making videos. She made cooking videos, pool safety videos, and videos about whatever interested her at the time. She liked explaining things, showing people what she knew, and taking the lead. Long before podcasting or streaming became part of her life, she was already creating.

At the time, I did not see any of that as evidence of where her life might go.

I just saw my daughter being herself.

Maybe that is what childhood interests are before we begin trying to turn them into something practical. They are simply the places where we naturally come alive.

When the Dream Changed Shape

Kayla eventually followed her childhood dream all the way to Hilo, Hawaii, where she began studying marine biology.

From the outside, it looked as though everything had lined up exactly the way it was supposed to. The little girl who loved Finding Nemo was living in Hawaii and studying marine life.

But the experience did not feel the way she had imagined it would.

She still loved the ocean and cared about marine life. What did not fit was the school, the environment, and the life surrounding the dream.

Once she recognized that, she made the decision to leave.

No one redirected her. No one handed her a different plan. She experienced the path for herself and paid attention to what it was teaching her.

She could only know it did not fit because she had lived it.

That is something we sometimes forget when we look back at the choices we made. We chose with the information we had at the time. Then we lived, and living gave us information we could never have gathered from a distance.

After leaving Hilo, Kayla did not rush into another degree simply so she could say she had a plan.

She gave herself space.

She continued building her podcast and online presence. In many ways, she was returning to the same creative instinct that had been there when she was a child making videos.

Then another interest quietly began growing.

Finance.

I will admit, it surprised me. After years of hearing her talk about marine biology, finance was not the direction I would have guessed for her.

But it held her attention.

She became curious, followed that curiosity, and eventually returned to school.

This time, the decision was entirely her own.

The Foundation She Built

Kayla earned her bachelor’s degree in nine months.

Nine months.

Somehow, while doing that, she also continued creating, writing, working toward personal goals, and moving through life with the same determination that had carried her to the summit of Mount Kilimanjaro at twenty two.

But what I admire most is not how quickly she completed the degree or how high she climbed.

It is that she trusted herself enough to choose again.

Changing direction did not require her to reject the little girl who loved the ocean. That love is still part of her life.

For several years, part of her birthday tradition has been cleaning the beach. We go to dinner, walk along the shoreline picking up trash, and usually finish with ice cream.

She may not have become a marine biologist, but the care beneath that dream never disappeared. It simply became part of the way she moves through the world.

Her first dream was not meaningless because it did not become her profession.

It introduced her to something she still values.

It carried her far enough to learn more about herself.

Then, when the direction changed, she carried what remained true with her.

Learning to Stand Beside Her

Watching Kayla has also changed the way I understand my role as her mother.

When our children are young, we are accustomed to knowing what to do. We make decisions, solve problems, and try to protect them from pain.

Then they grow into people who often know what they need from us better than we do.

Kayla once told me that when she was struggling, she did not always need me to fix the situation or connect it to one of my own experiences.

She needed me to listen.

That was not always easy to hear because I truly believed I was helping. But she was teaching me something important.

Listening is not simply the part we do before helping.

Listening may be the help.

She also taught me to think differently about praise. Instead of immediately saying, “I am so proud of you,” I began saying, “I hope you are so proud of yourself.”

Then I tell her I am proud too.

The order matters to me.

Her pride in herself comes first. Her life does not need to pass through my approval before it becomes meaningful.

There is a difference between stepping back and disappearing.

Standing beside someone does not mean caring less about where they go. It means trusting that the person living the life is allowed to choose the direction.

Every Part of That Walk Belonged to Her

Last weekend, I watched Kayla cross the graduation stage.

On her feet were the same hiking boots she had worn when she summited Mount Kilimanjaro.

There was something so perfectly Kayla about that.

The boots that had carried her up one mountain were now carrying her across another kind of summit.

As her name was called, I understood why the moment felt so emotional.

Every part of that walk belonged to her.

The decision to return. The direction she chose. The pace she set. The foundation she had built beneath herself.

There was nothing for me to fix. No advice to offer. No story of my own that needed to be told.

There was only the privilege of witnessing the life she had chosen for herself.

Maybe that is one of the most difficult and beautiful parts of loving someone.

Learning when to guide, when to listen, and when to step back.

Trusting that the compass belongs in their hands.

Whether you are the person considering a new direction or the person learning how to stand beside someone who is, both require trust.

Changing your mind does not mean your first dream was foolish. It may have already shown you something important. It may have revealed what matters, what no longer fits, and what you want to carry forward.

Your compass has not failed simply because it points somewhere new.

Sometimes that is how we know we are finally paying attention.

With Love and Gratitude,

 Amber

If this reflection resonates with you, I invite you to listen to Episode 27 of Find Your Way2Vyb, The Direction That Belonged to Her | Trusting the Courage to Choose Again

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