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| "A Landscape with Figures Walking Along a Path," Henri-Joseph Harpignies Courtesy of the National Gallery of Art Open Access Program |
Hello friends,
I've been pondering quite a bit lately about how much I lament taking the safe route out of college, rather than pursuing a less safe, more creative, and less mold-fitting career path. I'm not positive, today, that I'm in any better a financial position than I would have been had I pursued something much more creative and much more myself. I spent a lot of my education and early career focused on what I'm supposed to be doing to be successful rather than doing what makes me happy.
In my defense, I'm not sure that back then I knew what I wanted, other than to be big and powerful and wealthy and super successful so I could satisfy my own ego and impress others. Today, I still don't know what I want, but my values have changed. As a more mature, more experienced person, I simply know that I want to love what I do, to be financially secure, to have a decent work-life balance, and to work in an environment where my ability to do my job well isn't hindered by the actions of others, whether that means being my own boss or simply working with the right people.
This video really hits it on the head for me. I know that Jim Carrey may seem like a strange choice, but just listen to the first minute and fifteen seconds:
Carrey offers us two cuttingly poignant lessons in that minute and fifteen seconds:
1) We make too many decisions based on fear masked as practicality
2) You can fail at something you don't want so you may as well take a chance on something you love
I wish this had been my college commencement speech. Would my overly type A 22 year old self have taken it to heart? I don't know, probably not. But what I do know is that the people I went to college with who really dedicated themselves to pursuing creative passions actually made it. They're now supporting themselves doing the creative things that they love. One of them recently won an Emmy. And several now have successful businesses making and selling jewelry. And I'm sure there are others I don't know about, and that probably includes some people who failed, but this shows that it's very, very possible to succeed at a creative endeavor that you love.
I, on the other hand, went to grad school because I didn't know what I wanted out of college and other people were talking about how important grad school was and it seemed like a safe opportunity to figure it out and increase my earning capacity. And now I have what looks like, on paper, a high-powered, prestigious job.
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| Tarocchi (Tarot) Card Featuring Prudence, c. 1465 Courtesy of the National Gallery of Art Open Access Program |
But the reality is that the economy tanked when I was in grad school and all of a sudden people in my field simply couldn't find entry level jobs. I temped for two years before I landed at my current employer in an entry level position from which I worked my way up and, though I enjoy a relatively decent work-life balance for my field and pretty good benefits, I am making way less money than I was told I could expect when I made the decision to take on massive debt to finance my fancy grad school education. I would probably be making just as much by now had I taken a job straight out of college, but with way less debt.
And more than that, while there are a lot of amazing things about my job and the people at my job, I have issues with the way that my organization is managed, and often feel like there are constraints external to myself that prevent me from doing my best work. As a consequence, I get frustrated, and then I'm definitely not motivated to do my best work, so it creates a kind of resentful downspiral.
Every moment of my serious work experience since emerging from my education - from temping to working somewhere where I feel my time and talents are not best used - has done something to my career confidence, ego, and drive that feels irreparable. I am nothing like the Type A college student I used to be. Some of that's the humility that comes with maturity, sure, but some of that is shell shock and what seems like a permanent cloud of self-doubt. I probably have impostor syndrome. And I don't know how much of my seeming passionlessness for what I'm doing is just the imprint of past experience and how much of it is a reflection of current reality, nor do I know whether it's just the organization that I work for that's the problem, or the entire field that I have chosen for myself.
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| "An Allegory of Wisdom and the Arts," Franz Karl Palko, 1750/1755 Courtesy of the National Gallery of Art Open Access Program |
The problem I'm currently struggling with is how to take to heart Carrey's advice now that I am not a bright-eyed college student just entering into the world, but a (relatively) established professional. I have a lot of career-related baggage. I have struggled a lot and invested a lot of emotion, time, energy, social capital, and money into getting where I am. I am forced also to remember some of my own advice from my earlier blog post on how being good at what you do doesn't mean that you'd be good at running a business doing what you do: it's important to know when to cut your losses. My prior investments shouldn't prevent me from moving on if it's not working for me.
But when and how do I know for sure that this isn't working, and that my unhappiness isn't temporary, or that it doesn't just need some small changes (like switching to a different employer) rather than massive, overarching career change? Am I really ready to scrap everything and start over from scratch?
How about you, friends? Have you found yourself in this boat before? How did you handle it? Did you make the switch? Did it resolve itself in time? Or are you still struggling? If so how do you cope? Are side pursuits enough?
Emily
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