I often feel anxious. I’m plagued by worrisome questions like:
What am I doing with my life? Why do I have to be good at something (the arts) that I have virtually no chance at making a career out of? Why can’t I just love dentistry? Or accounting? Or waiting tables? Why am I so weird?
Then I tell myself that I’m 23. This entire decade of my life is about false starts and trails and error. That doesn’t make the sting of failure go away, but it is comforting. It’s a feeling of “I’m struggling, but so is everyone else, therefore, I must be exactly where I’m supposed to be.”
I know so many people who aren’t doing what they thought they were going to do. They tried a career and it didn’t fit them right. They can’t find work in this economy. They’re just generally in a perpetual state of “I don’t know” or “I can’t decide.” But I always tell them (and myself) that there’s no shame in backing out. There’s no shame is saying “no thanks” and getting the hell out of there. There’s no shame in running in the exact opposite direction of what you told yourself you wanted. It’s as simple as saying “this isn’t what I thought it would be.”
After all, life often gives us exactly what we ask for, just to show us that it’s not what we really want.
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