This blog post was excruciatingly difficult to write. I tried starting over, I tried taking notes, I tried changing the subject first, but ultimately I felt like I couldn't move on with my life until I had this written. Even when I was halfway across the country, hoping that a change in scenery would help me break out of my mental block, I was still stuck. This probably would have been easier as a journal entry, but I felt like this needed to be shared publicly.
The problem was that I had a problem without a solution. Usually, when I write a blog post, putting everything out in front of me makes it easier to come up with a solution. In this case, try as I might, I could only dig myself deeper into the rabbit hole of my problems. On the bright side, the fact that this is written means that I've found the solution, but I'll be saving that for the next post.
The crux of the issue was that without a full time job, I couldn't figure out how to be a person. What do I want? Am I a person, and what does that mean? If it exists, then there must be a definition. If there is a definition, then is it applicable to me? Do I matter enough to have a definition? Everything had been changing so quickly, from "not going anywhere" to "moving a mile a minute." It almost gave me whiplash; I needed a physical and mental massage to work out the knots in my shoulders and in my psyche. I missed the consistency of the before-times, even though it was boring at first. I missed having a purpose and being a part of something bigger than myself. It was easier to have reasonable expectations toward who I could be and what I could accomplish.
After sending out job apps and taking some time to unwind, I took the extra time on my hands to deliberately focus on and reexamine the dysfunction in my life: money, friends, self worth, lack of purpose. I wasn't upset about my joblessness per se, because I knew I was one of the unlucky ones, the ones with the bad timing, who hadn't done anything wrong to be in the place we're in. I was happy to be in a relatively financially stable place, where being sequestered in my apartment alone was not only acceptable, but expected, given the circumstances. Still, it was hard to move forward. I know where and why it all fell apart, I just wasn't sure how to fix it aside from simply continuing to do a good job in life, to deliver successes which can be built upon for more success. It's almost cliche, but the hardest part was just having faith that things would work out and believing in myself.
At first, it was easy to see all the things I am not: not in grad school, not a lawyer, not making a six figure salary, not yet notable in my field, but not a failure either. While I didn't have a full time job, I finally had the time to start graphic design freelancing, fulfilling a dream I've had for so long. I contemplated more, about the paradox of happiness vs. success. I considered the top consultants at big firms, corporate lawyers, or the investment bankers that chase high profile high paying jobs, only to burn out and take a step back and realize the simpler things in life are more worth it. The knowledge of these patterns and tendencies — knowing that these things would not bring me happiness — initially led me to choose to pursue purpose in less high profile but ultimately more meaningful and personally rewarding work in the education policy world.
This worked for a while, until I stepped out of the nonprofit world and then tried to get back into it. At this point, I am no longer looking for entry level jobs, but also not quite qualified for mid-level positions (apparently). I hesitated from committing to applying for grad school programs; I knew too many people who had gotten their advanced degrees (sometimes multiple) and were still stuck in non-directorial positions. I thought about law school and I talked to friends and mentors who were lawyers. I knew the career wouldn't make me happy, but maybe it would lead to some upward mobility and a position that would allow me to do some good in the world. The majority of them did not recommend the law school experience, but for every lawyer who tells me not to go to law school, the fact remains: they have a law degree and I do not.
Perhaps my concern was not the money, but the prestige. I was worried that, despite graduating early, I was falling behind. In a moment of weakness, I looked up former high school classmates online. The results were all over the place. A few were consultants (no surprise), a few went to law school, a few were still figuring it out. A high school classmate I never would have considered particularly cerebral was earning her PhD at Harvard Medical School. A good number of high school high achievers disappeared into the impersonal machine of Bay Area tech jobs. Surely then, this must be the way forward: accept that "success" is finding a way to be a part of the big names, and find happiness within that system somehow, right?
Inevitably, this was not an acceptable answer for me. I talked with a friend who had the same issue and was in the same situation, graduating early and feeling like she wasn't living up to conventional expectations of success, despite knowing that they wouldn't make her happy. She envied her hippie friends who were making minimum wage and happy, yet was also jealous of the big earners who could afford to do and buy whatever they wanted. We wanted to be successful without giving in to the conventional definitions of success that we knew would never satisfy us. To live a life worth living, happiness must come first; the advanced degrees and high paying jobs will always be available in the future if interested, but the time of youth will never be recovered. I craved something sweet and poignant to validate the presumed joy of existence and also respect my high achieving nature. I want a life where I can wake up every day and not feel like my entire body and mind is in searing pain from the dissatisfaction of meaningless employment. Deep in my heart, I knew I wanted to be a teacher, but the low salary and lack of respect for the profession did not seem like a measure of success that would validate my accomplishments.
The challenge was to define a mission and pursue it relentlessly, avoiding the pit of despair in the meantime...