Viewing my Career as a Search for "The One"

I wrote this a couple years ago, and figured I'd share here if anyone else is struggling in trying to find a passion / career.

Growing up, my father worked for the same company in the same job for his whole career. To this day, I still can’t tell you exactly what it is - probably from him not talking about it much and me being a selfish daughter who only thinks about her own life. All I know is that he hated it. But it had good insurance, and he had a house, two cars, and a family to care for. My mom worked odd jobs to help contribute (and I’m sure to get out of the house and interact with real adults on a normal basis - she DID have four kids within five years, and we were homeschooled. I can’t even imagine the insanity), but she never had a career per se until we were adults. Not that I’m blaming anything on my parents, but I never had a “career-minded” person in my life. My family was concerned more about the wellbeing of their family than they were of getting ahead and making a name for themselves.?

When I was in college, I was idealistic, as were all my peers. I was going to be an actress. I was going to go into politics. I was going to be a civil rights lawyer. I was going to be a history professor. Each new idea thrilled me, and I started to pursue one career path until the next shiny thing came up. The first time I set my eyes on a goal and accomplished it was teaching English abroad. I applied for two years. First, to the Fulbright program for a English Language teaching fellowship, which I didn’t get. Then, devastated, I worked at an Old Spaghetti Factory for the year while I continued to apply. I applied again, and then to another couple programs I found online. I knew one person who had gotten into the Fulbright program - she gave a talk in one of my classes - and having had someone do it first somehow gave me the confidence to feel like it wasn’t a stupid idea. This feeling, of wanting to follow others instead of forging my own path, continues to this day. I eventually got into a less prestigious program in France, but it was the best experience of my life and set me on a path that would guide my career for the next seven years.?

When I came back to the states, I was unable (and didn’t want) to resume normal life, so I moved to Denver to be near my best friend who had just had a baby. Just because I could. I didn’t need to go back to California. There was no agenda ahead of me, no task that I felt pressed to accomplish, and no one pushing me to get started on my career. I felt bohemian, carefree, destined to travel the world as an English teacher for the rest of my life, and any partner that wanted to join me could. I started applying to graduate programs to get my Master’s in teaching English as a Second Language (ESL) so that I could make this all come true.?

I got into a school in LA county, and I started teaching at a small private school while I got my MA at night. I made 1400 bucks a month, but somehow it worked. I lived with a former coworker who had also just moved from Denver with her son. We were a non-traditional family that took care of each other in a little townhome in East LA, talking about sex, love, jobs, and farmer’s markets. After getting my degree, I knew I could get better paying jobs in other countries as an English Language teacher, but I didn’t move abroad after school like I planned. I had found a man who was better than drifting around the world on my own. My dream shifted. I figured that I could just stay in the states and try to get a full-time job at a community college. So, for the next few years, that became my new goal, but I was never to be monogamous to this new goal. I also flirted with random jobs, since as an ESL teacher, you often just get one or two classes and had to supplement your income. I worked in a brewery, as a receptionist at a startup, and as an executive assistant at an e-commerce agency, all while teaching.?

However, I figured that if I really wanted to commit to this work (like all people who commit to one job in the end), I needed to get rid of my side-jobs. I somehow got three classes teaching English up and down the 55 freeway in Orange County. I was all-in in this relationship. For about a year and a half, I was committed to this partner - this job - that I thought I would stay with for the rest of my life. It was great most of the time, and I have no ill feelings, but as time went on, I felt like there was something more for me. Maybe I got greedy. Maybe I had hoped that a job would fulfill me wholeheartedly, that my job would be the end-all-be-all for me. I looked around, and I realized I was surrounded by people in tech or creative jobs who were so fulfilled (or they made it appear as such). And I looked at myself, and I didn’t feel what I thought they felt. I was jealous of these people who were able to earn the respect of their peers for their risks and rewards working for themselves or following their creative endeavors. Metaphorically speaking, they had these wild, exciting boyfriends who took them on trips abroad, sent them romantic love notes, and fought passionately. I, on the other hand, was in a stable, stale, long-term relationship with teaching, where it was all written out for the rest of my life. Had I continued on this path, I would have probably landed a job at one of these community colleges and stayed there forever. That terrified me. I wanted freedom. So, like any person who felt suffocated, I left. Both the work and the location.?

My husband and I moved to New York City, and I thought this would be it. This is where I will find my career. I applied to so many jobs: writing jobs, editing jobs, customer service jobs. Nothing. I got one interview. I basically swiped right to so many jobs and had one first date that would be the last first date, but in the end, I was left alone again. Disheartened, I just started throwing my net out in all directions, hoping something would catch. I had no plan, no direction, just hoping that something would find me. That’s what they say about relationships, right? Just put yourself out there, and love will find YOU!?

I guess it did. An opportunity through a friend came around, and I ended up getting a job in retail. In retrospect, I wish I had spent a lot more time reflecting and really figuring out what I wanted to do, but I’m anxious when I’m not working. I’ve always worked - in college, I got a job in catering on-campus instead of an internship or anything in my field because I have this innate desire to always work, to be able to take care of myself if anything happened. I couldn’t waste my energy and time on an unpaid internship. I’ve worked non-stop since I was 16. I am helpless without a job, as if my identity is rooted in being able to support myself. I used to feel bad for people who couldn’t be without a boyfriend or girlfriend, even if they didn’t like them all that much, but I was the same way when it came to my work.?

In New York, I’m surrounded by wildly ambitious people - entrepreneurs, photographers, creative directors, marketing managers, and freelancers - all seeming to have a grip on their future. I’ve read documentaries, seen Netflix documentaries, and listened to podcasts about people who followed their passion and became successful and respected. They’d found their match, and I’m just here trying to find what I belong to, and I simply can’t. More importantly, the person closest to me is in a job he loves, getting to create work constantly and being praised for it. He’d invested the last 10+ years into his work, and he is deeply in his career, but he’s terribly frustrated with my inability to figure it out for myself. I’ve courted education and retail, I’ve dated comedy, I’ve even hit on writing and content producing (unsuccessfully). It’s out there, but I can’t seem to find the one.?

But treating (and trying to find) my career path as if it’s my life partner has given me deep, profound anxiety and stress. Trying to find the thing that’s going to give me utmost fulfillment, that’s going to sustain me, is overwhelming. When I think about my own husband, and putting that kind of pressure on him to be my literal everything would be unfair. No one thing or person can do that for you. Furthermore, what if I’m not meant to marry, if you will, like it seems that everyone else has? What if my route is rather one of a drifter, drawn from one passion to the next? Part of me is so intrigued by this idea, but the other part of me is disgusted by the privilege and selfishness it takes to say that. Not to mention I have this uncontrollable desire to impress people. I want to pursue that one thing, to fight hard for something, to have people tell me I can’t but do it anyway. However, I can honestly not tell you what that is, and if I am going to commit my life, I’ve always wanted to be 100% sure. And I’m not 100% sure of anything I want to do.?

Michelle Obama wrote in her book Becoming: “This may be the fundamental problem with caring a lot about what others think: “It can put you on the established path--the my-isn’t-that-impressive path-- and keep you there for a long time. Maybe it stops you from swerving, from ever even considering a swerve, because what you risk losing in terms of other people’s high regard can feel too costly.” When she says this, she’s talking about herself becoming a lawyer. But for me, this established path is the one where people would respect me for being successful in my thing. This established path, or one of seeking respect for the career I’ve chosen, keeps me from seeking fulfillment in my everyday life. Rather than being happy that so many things inspire and excite me, I’m frustrated that I can’t just find the one.

Perhaps, like finding a partner, I’ll settle eventually. While I never found any closure or any true clarity in writing this, I hope that there’s someone who feels this way too. That feels they’re not keeping up with those around them because they’re constantly changing careers or don’t even know what to major in. Uncertainty for the future, having no goal, and just drifting, isn’t all that bad. It’s never going to get you a documentary on Netflix, but the guy who got his law degree and now lives in a house he bought or the woman who became a doctor and started her own practice probably won’t get one either.?

I just read this article on Medium where the writer interviewed a man named Paul O’Keefe, a professor at Yale-NUS College in Singapore. O’Keefe suggests that trying to uncover your passion like it’s some buried treasure is unrealistic, and in some cases detrimental to your growth. When asked about comparing work as a soul mate, he responded, “You can think that you need to find ‘the one,’ and if you’re dating around and you’re not completely wowed by that person, then you might just keep dating. Like, ‘It’s a nice date, but clearly it’s not the one because I wasn’t blown away.’ That’s how someone with a fixed theory might think of it. But someone with a growth theory might go on a first date and have a nice time and think, ‘There’s something that could grow there. And that growth takes time. So let’s go on a second date, and a third date, and a fourth date.’ It’s this expectation that it’s a process...I think in particular of how ubiquitous it is, the idea that people must find their passion. It’s sending, we think, a pretty terrible message to people, and a very passive message. It’s almost saying, ‘Your passion exists. It’s just that you’ll stumble on it. You don’t really need to do anything. Everything will fall into place.’ Obviously that’s not true, so that expectation can really hurt people.Whereas someone with a growth theory, they never expect it to be easy. They expect it to be a developmental process that has difficulties from time to time. So for them, when they’re dating, or pursuing their passions, sometimes it’s difficult, but that’s not a signal that this wasn’t their passion after all. It’s that this is the nature of things.”