The two things I’ve always wanted to be, since I was a teeny tiny tot of a terror, was a writer; and a Star Ship counsellor. I wanted to be telepathic too like Diana on Star Trek.
Whisking through the stars helping humans and aliens with their troubles. Then writing a best seller about it. Or about just the aliens. Or a tawdry romance about my three dates with a Vulcan. Vulcans. So cute. So smart. So emotionally unavailable. So my type of guy. Ah, alien? Anyhoo.
Where was I?
What I always wanted to be when I grow up.
Well here I am, ready to re-enter the work force after six year absence and I want it to be special. I don’t want to just ‘have a job’. I want to have a meaningful, fulfilling career I can be proud of.
I want to help people.
Even though most of the time they don’t want my help. I can’t say that I blame them. Who wants advice from an Oompa Loompa who dresses like an eight year old boy? Who would rather crack a joke than a textbook?
I think it’s hard to take me seriously sometimes. I’m a bit of a nut. Clearly too happy to be smart, too. You know, the Smartest People are also Super Serious and Sometimes Mean. Grumpy for sure.
Really Smart People don’t go around asking what they want to be when they grow up. Not at almost 40, anyway. Or do they? Hm.
Anyway, I don’t want to make a mistake this late in my ‘money-earning years’ we’ll call them.
So I went to a life-coach workshop-thingie for an hour and half last Sunday to try and get some professional guidance.
And you know what she said about mistakes? She said I WOULD make mistakes. And then I’d learn from it. Who doesn’t make mistakes? People who aren’t getting off the comfy couch and trying new things, that’s what.
She also asked me why I didn’t want to use my psychology degree?
Bottom line? It’s going to be hard, guys.
Hard to get the masters degree I know I’ll need to get a good job. Hard to find the money to pay for it. Hard to go back to school after twenty years. Hard to have a young family and a new career. Hard to work with special-need kids and not have my heart all wrung out and pulled apart at the end of every day.
If I really examine myself, it’s kind of what I’m built for. My heart’s all lovey, my spirit’s all nurture, my mind’s all CHALLENGE ME!
So. Did I figure out what I’m ‘meant’ to do? I don’t know. Maybe I figured out what I’m supposed to try to do. Maybe I’ll fail. Maybe I won’t find the money, or the time, or the grit to see it through. But then maybe it will lead me to something else, something I don’t even know is out there yet because I haven’t started the journey.
Maybe you all can start the journey with me? It won’t be so scary then.
Really? You will!? Thank you so much!
Ok guys I’ll keep you in the loop. In the meantime, here’s one of my favorite quotes:
“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without err and shortcoming; but who actually strives to do the deeds, who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly.” Theadore Roosevelt.