momentary locals

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. … Your passion stays low, yet under no circumstance will you underperform. You live, as you always have, by the code of effort/result…”

-Becoming, By Michelle Obama

When I read this passage the other night, I felt that Michelle was speaking directly to me. I went straight from high school, to university, to graduate school. All without taking a moment to think about what I really wanted. My dad had told me to not rush into a career, to enjoy a gap year after high school. Did I heed that advice? Nope. Why did I ever think I had life more figured out than my dad?

Since we have gotten our camper and been spending more time outdoors, I have slowly come to terms with the idea that maybe I pursued the wrong career path. I became interested in mental health after taking one psychology class in high school. My path was laid out from there. Nothing could have swayed me once I officially announced to the world that I was going to be a psychologist. I would make my immigrant parents so proud becoming a psychologist; I would make good money, be a professional, have a good life. In undergrad, I decided I wanted to focus on helping children, specifically children who had experienced trauma and the mental health implications of those traumatic events. I discovered the field of social work and set my mind to become a social worker. I got my MSW, and then the only logical next step was to become licensed. In 2014, I became an LCSW in California.

I burned out very quickly – maybe this should have been the first sign. I was a bilingual social worker and because of that I had a high case load and worked long hours. I changed positions, got promoted, and worked my way up to the manager role I am in today. I don’t hate my job; it allows me to use my skill sets and my strengths. I am good at creating systems and I have great organizational skills. But it doesn’t mean I am passionate about the work. And as much as I fear writing this down and feel shame in feeling this way, a bigger fear is continuing to live a life that doesn’t fulfill me, that doesn’t bring me the purpose I thought it would.

Michelle once again speaks to me.

‘I’m just not fulfilled,’ I said. I see now how this must have come across to my mother, who was in the ninth year of a job she’d taken primarily so she could help finance my college education, after years of not having a job so that she’d be free to sew my school clothes, cook my meals, and do laundry for my dad, who for the sake of our family spent eight hours a day watching gauges on a boiler at a filtration plant. … Fulfillment, I’m sure, struck her as a rich person’s conceit. I had doubt that my parents, in their thirty years together, had ever once discussed it.”

-Becoming, by michelle obama

While the details of my parent’s jobs are different, as I read this passage, I felt in the pit of my stomach that this is exactly my reluctance. Who am I to complain about such things? I have a job, a job that helps me pay my bills and allows me to travel. There are so many other humans in the world, never mind my own family members, who struggle to make ends meet with the jobs they work their assess off to keep.

But what happens now?

I’m not quite sure. This blog, travel, exploration, photography, this Earth, the great outdoors; they all bring me joy. Now to comes figuring out how to make a living that combines these.