I woke up yesterday morning and my first thought was not how beautiful the day was going to be, or that it was Saturday (no work!) – I was thinking how old I was and how I haven’t done a damn thing with my life.
Great self-talk, huh?
I can’t say it’s entirely true, meaning that I haven’t done a damn thing with my life, except I haven’t found a career.
Even before I left home for college (way back when), there’s always been this pressure to “do something” with my life, most of it self-imposed, some from family. In my 20s and 30s I lived for work. I happily stayed late into the evening. I worked weekends. I picked up fast food through drive-through on my way home. I never saw my friends, I never did anything fun, it was just work, work and more work. It took quite a few more years to realize it wasn’t a life; it was just an existence and a pretty sad one.
Today, I wouldn’t dream of putting in ridiculous hours like that now. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll stay late if needed – but only on occasion.
When I look back, sometimes I feel like I’ve made mistake after mistake, but at least I tried. The bigger mistake would have been not even trying at all.
I’ve given much thought to changing careers to be a lab assistant. I’ve taken some classes and it would really fit me as an introvert. I’m reasonably certain I’d like it, but what I want is the thing I will love. Not just like, but love. Big difference.
So now I’m at a crossroads. I can keep doing the same old same old or I can take a leap of faith, which sounds scary because I have no idea where it’ll take me – but regret is scarier still.
I’m envious of people who seem to know exactly what they want to do and go after it. Me? I’m still figuring it out.
I really hope the goal of life isn't just to work 9-5 and collect a pension, because if it is, I’m doing this all wrong.