Resignation from Living Someone Else’s Dream

Resignation from Living Someone Else’s Dream
By [Shams ur Rahman]

To Whom It May Concern — and to the part of myself that has stayed silent for far too long,

Today, I am officially resigning. Not from a job or a role, but from something far more personal and profound. I am resigning from living someone else’s dream. I no longer wish to walk a path paved by expectations that are not my own. I am handing in my notice to the silent contract I once signed — the one that said I must fulfill the visions others had for my life, even if they did not match the desires of my soul.

This resignation did not happen suddenly. It has been building inside me for years — a quiet rebellion beneath the surface. I tried to suppress it with success measured by society’s standards: a good job, a respectable title, and the approval of family, friends, and onlookers. I wore their dreams like a well-fitted suit, not realizing it was stitched together with threads of self-betrayal.

I’ve lived a life checking off boxes that were never mine to tick: a chosen career that felt safe rather than fulfilling, relationships I nurtured to meet others’ ideals of love and stability, and routines that brought predictability but no passion. I became so good at being who others wanted me to be that I forgot to ask myself who I wanted to be.

There is no bitterness in this resignation — only clarity. I understand now that those who dreamed for me were not malicious. They were loving. They wanted security for me, success, admiration — things that are noble in intention. But noble intentions can still mislead. When the pursuit of someone else’s version of happiness replaces your own compass, you lose the map to your own identity.

I resign from the belief that sacrifice of self is noble if it means living in quiet misery. I resign from the fear that choosing differently makes me selfish or ungrateful. I resign from the toxic idea that fitting in is more valuable than standing out. I resign from apologizing for dreams that don’t make sense to anyone but me.

This resignation is also a rebirth. With every ending comes the possibility of a beginning. I am reclaiming the pen that writes my story. I am reintroducing myself to dreams that once made my heart race, the kind I used to speak of with bright eyes and boundless enthusiasm. I am giving myself permission to want different things, to take risks, and to fail on my own terms.

This new chapter will not be perfect. There will be moments of doubt, fear, and maybe even regret. But they will be mine. I will own every misstep and every breakthrough. I will know that I am building a life that reflects my inner truth rather than the external noise.

To the younger version of me — the one who once believed she had to earn love and validation by conforming — I say this: You are enough as you are. Your dreams matter. Your voice is worthy. And it’s never too late to start again.

To those who love me: I hope you can understand this decision. It is not a rejection of your love or guidance. It is, in fact, inspired by the strength and courage you taught me. But now it’s time I use that strength to follow my North Star. You may not always understand my journey, but I hope you’ll support it, even from afar.

So here I am — handing in my resignation from the life that was chosen for me, not by me. And in doing so, I accept the uncertainty of the road ahead. I embrace the discomfort of growth. I welcome the unknown not as a threat, but as an open canvas.

Because at the end of this life, I want to be able to say: I lived fully, fearlessly, and authentically. I lived my dream, not someone else’s.

Sincerely,

[My Dreams]