Someone recently asked me, “What does your ideal life look like in 5 years?” It was a simple enough question, I know. But somehow impossible to answer at the same time.

Truthfully, in all my life leading up to this point, I never really asked myself these big questions. No matter what, I knew I would build a good life and be content. I had no idea what this would look like, though. Our bodies are relics of struggles and triumphs. We oscillate accordingly throughout the ridges and valleys of life. In life there is survival and there is thriving. I lived in the former for nearly a decade.

Being a part of the unofficial Depressed Kids Club is a baffling badge of honor. It has some good wlements: As a kid, you have less to lose, and it can be easier to receive treatment. Kids are incredibly resilient, too. But if you operate in a constant state of disequilibrium as a child and adolescent, your lizard brain cannot see past its present need to survive.

This mechanism is great in the short term, allowing us to “maintain safety” and focus on sustaining only the most vital functions. Long-term, however, it’s a nightmare. I spent years merely surviving because of my depression, poorly managing my symptoms (though doing the best I could at that time), building my life around its apprehension, and losing the romantic idea of myself and my life in the process.

When you’re constantly in survival mode, you lose the ability to think big picture. You also lose the ability to dream because you just hyper-focus on that which is immediate; the unknown future is too abstract, too far away, too hopeful for that bleak present moment. I now have some great news to share: Your brain and body cannot stay in survival mode forever. It is simply not sustainable.

I may have stayed like that for a while, but I ultimately started clawing my way out towards the end of college. (Don’t get me wrong—I lived it up at college but could only extend myself in certain ways.) It took a long time to escape, but I embraced my thriving mode with open arms, something beautiful I hadn’t held since early childhood. It just sort of happened when my brain and body realized that there was no longer grave danger present.

When you’re beyond the baseline of merely surviving, you can imagine new worlds beyond the present moment. You can dream, desire, and stargaze. It’s where building your higher life and self begins. Like my friends always remind me: “You’re here now.” This reminder has pulled me out of the mud time and time again, connecting me to my higher internal powers and engulfing me in its unshakeable goodness.

Now that I’m here in this new place, it’s time to learn how to dream.

I think I know what I want for my life. Generally, at least. (I'm 24 years old if you couldn't tell.) I want those things everyone yearns for, like good health, stability, inner peace, meaningful work, a partnership, friendships, and to act out of self-love, not self-hatred. Working with those basic tenets, I can figure out the details as I go. I do know that, soon, I want to grow as a designer, move to a new city, fall in love, and continue conquering my fears each day. I dream of an uninhibited life in which I can overcome the pain of my past and live in the ways I want to.

I don't care much for questions about where I’ll be in a year or five years. The truth is that I have no idea.

And when humans make overly specific plans, the universe is known to laugh. My internal compromise to this reality is to have vague, all-encompassing dreams and to value health and mental well-being over all else. It is impossible to know what I’ll encounter, who I'll meet, and how I’ll be changed throughout the process.

And let’s not forget the newness and privilege of being able to plan our lives. In most of human history up to this point, humans could not think beyond survival, much less think of where they’ll “be” in five years. This moment is vastly complex after we've finally left the cave and walked into the world.

I’m still not the best at dreaming, and I have a way to go before my mind and body are on explicit terms about my post-survival status. Like anything else, dreaming is a learned skill, one I’ll continue to practice.

To prepare for those questions about your own life in the future, I encourage pulling out a bunch of magazines and craft supplies and buying a large poster board. Carve out some time to tap into your inner child and create a vision board that covers your most protected wishes and the essence of your inner world. Try not to overthink and create out of curiosity.

So, to sum it up, I don’t know what the future holds for me; I do know that I’ll be content, safe, following my heart, and loving a revolving cast of people in the process. And that’s good enough for me.