Journal № 013 — What dreams are made of 🇺🇸
I have not slept better in my entire life than I have this past year.
One year of transformative change.
One year of true freedom.
One year of finally letting go.
It was around this time last year that I fully understood how free I truly was: free from the accident, from its endless echoes, and from the invisible chains life had wrapped around me.
Freedom is a funny thing. We often think it’s about being allowed to roam where we want or not being told what to do. But real freedom, I learned the hard way, runs deeper. It’s the unseen ties, the ones you don’t even know you’re tangled in, that hold you back the most. For me, those ties weren’t just the scars left from my accident five years ago. They stretched back 23 years, years spent wrapped in admiration and love for a country and a dream so big that I would do almost anything for it. → Passion can do wonders for dreams.
The past twelve months have been the most freeing of my life, and one of the biggest moments was earning my American citizenship. America. You know — the United States of America, USA, Land of Dreams. You know exactly which one I mean.
I’ve been here for 23 years, but now I can finally call myself an American. With that comes an overwhelming sense of relief, joy, and gratitude.
Quick rewind before we move forward
I arrived in the U.S. as a twenty-year-old kid, hockey bag slung over my shoulder, heart wide open, and no real idea what to expect.
Land of Dreams, Hollywood, cheeseburgers — bring it on. The plan was just one year, but life had other ideas. A second year followed, playing college hockey in Wisconsin. If my first year in Ohio was an awakening, Wisconsin was a full-blown revelation.
I learned quickly that the America I knew from movies and ads didn’t exist everywhere. Palm trees? Hardly. Hot babes? Not in every corner. Who knew?! (This was before we had computers in our pockets to research every step. You just went.) I took a chance on America. I took a chance on myself.
We’re not about to walk through my entire American story, but it’s important to sketch the outline. Because it all leads to this simple truth: I feel genuinely, soul-deep happy today. The kind of happy you feel when everything around you is calm.
After realizing Top Gun wasn’t filmed in the Midwest (laugh all you want), I flew to San Diego. College. First jobs. First real life.
Later came San Francisco, Los Angeles, New York City. Then Portland. And eventually, Montana. Montana, where a severe motorcycle accident would change my life once again.
Life, I’ve learned, doesn’t give you what you want. It gives you what you need, exactly when you need it. Imagine if we actually lived by those words. We’d all be better for it. I can almost promise you that.
Trying to build a life in a different country with no real support? It’s not easy. If you’ve done it, you know. If you haven’t, it’s hard to explain. You’re not just changing your address. You’re changing your skin. Learning a new culture, a new rhythm of life. Sometimes I wish more people had to go through even a small version of this journey, because maybe, just maybe, we’d be kinder to the ones who come seeking refuge, hope, and a new beginning.
I did what I had to do.
I worked harder than most. I figured out how to get the visas I needed. I took jobs I didn’t always want. I paid my dues so I could stand where I stand today, free. The road here could have been shorter, but I wasn’t willing to compromise too much on my dreams, or on who I am.
One dream, though, has taken longer than most to bloom: my Denim Dream.
It sat on the back burner for years, quietly waiting for me to be free enough to chase it properly.
2025 is the year I start.
One pair of jeans. Maybe a couple more. Maybe even more after that.
But the point isn’t quantity. It’s the word itself:
Start.
Hell yes, I’m American.
Hell yes, I’m proud to be American.
Hell yes, I’m proud of myself for making it all the way here.
Hell yeah.
(With a little twang, if you please.)
All of this — for one simple thing:
To sleep better.
To feel calmer inside.
To close out one heck of a beginning to the 2020s with my head high, my heart in the right place, and a fire inside me brighter than ever.
We’re stepping into the second half of the decade now, and I’m walking into it with open arms.
Excited to chase dreams.
Excited to find my people.
Every year, I try to take a few photos of myself and my little ladies. Little time capsules to remind myself, years from now, of where I was and who I was.
If you don’t already do it, I can’t recommend it enough. Do it for you. Do it for your heart. Forget what anyone else says. Pull out that dusty camera or phone, grab a tripod, and shoot your memories. They’ll mean more than you can imagine.
I have not slept better in my entire life, and everything I wrote above is part of that. But there’s so much more. I’m letting the words flow freely again, because I missed writing. I got caught up somewhere along the way, lost without even realizing it. But that’s human nature. It’s okay. I’m grateful to be back.
And I’m grateful you are here too.
With love,
-cb