I remember feeling the pressure of having to know exactly what I wanted to do with my life by the time I was a senior in high school. I look back and think how in the world could I have possibly known what career to choose at 17? I was a mere bushy-browed, awkward teen still trying to figure out how to make boys like me. How was I supposed to know what I wanted to do for the next 50 years of my life?
I am reminded of the Twisted Sister video “I Wanna Rock” when the teacher, veins bubbling from his neck, screams, “WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DO WITH YOUR LIFE?!” As brilliantly cheesy as that moment is, it rings true. How is anyone at 18 supposed to know what they want to do with the rest of their life?
I certainly don’t blame my parents for pressuring me for that’s just the way it was. And so I chose.
I remember hearing - you’ll never end up working in the field you majored in - quite frequently as I neared graduation. Not exactly encouraging words as I ventured out into the big, bad, real world.
The thing is, they were right. I didn’t end up doing what I thought I would be doing mainly because I had no idea what I wanted to do! After four years of core classes, major requirements and living it up, all I was left with was the feeling that I wasn’t ready to make a lifelong commitment to a career. Don’t get me wrong, I tried. I dabbled in this and that, but after 16 years of this and that I found myself unhappy and incomplete.
Last week I registered for classes for the first time since flannel was considered an acceptable form of evening wear; confident that after 20 plus years of trying to figure it all out, I finally know what I want to be when I grow up.
Sure I have those 'if I knew then what I know now' moments; but isn't the journey just as sweet as the destination? My journey has taken a bit longer than I had anticipated...but there is no bitter in this sweet.