When I Grow Up

Here's a secret that nobody tells ever tells you: sometimes, even when you’re grown up, you still don’t know what you want to be when you grow up.

They don’t tell you this on any of the occasions where it might be appropriate. They don’t tell you when you’re five and your teacher asks you, “what do you want to be when you grow up?” while she’s interviewing you for Person of the Week. They don’t tell you when you’re in high school and you’re trying to get good grades and score high on the SATs and pick out the right college that fits your needs exactly. They don’t tell you when you’ve switched majors, and maybe even colleges, more than once because you’re unhappy with the choice you’ve previously made and you’re under the impression that there actually is a right choice and it will lead you to the perfect career. And they definitely don’t tell you during the last chance they get: when you’re at your college graduation and you’re shaking the dean’s hand and moving your tassel to the other side and your parents are taking pictures that make you look like you’re going somewhere after this.

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” is a question that I’ve known I’d have to answer sooner or later for a long time. As my life has progressed, my answering the question has become more and more pertinent. I first began to feel real urgency about halfway through my college career, when it would have been appropriate to begin looking at various post-secondary education options and make the right choices and plans with plenty of time to hammer out the specifics. College neared its end, and still I hadn’t hammered out anything. Graduation came and swiftly went, and I spent the summer trying to force myself to keep my mind off this decision, telling myself that--much like a grumpy cat—if I didn’t pay attention to it, it would come to me.

I reached the end of my post-graduation grace period this month and had to begin paying off my student loans. This means that it’s been six months since I reached the end of my college career. Six months of officially being a grown-up, and I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.

This fact has been especially hard on me lately (and can, in part, explain why I forgot how to be funny and thus have cut back on my posts here). I’ve been wasting an awfully lot of time stewing in it, disappointed in myself for my lack of direction and ability to make any sort of decision. But the biggest blow I’ve been dealing myself has been my anger at not knowing myself well enough to be able to see what it is I’m meant to do in life.

But sometimes, every once in a while, it’s not myself that frustrates me, but rather the existing impression that, in order to be successful in life, we must have a successful career. This, in turn, gets me frustrated that people so commonly define themselves in general by what they do for a living. Sometimes, instead of searching blindly for the answer to the age-old question, I have my answer more readily than most.

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”

I want to be happy.

Being happy, to me, seems to be the most successful anyone could possibly be in his or her life. Above all, whatever it takes, this should be the goal we work to attain. This should be—and to me, it is—the truest measure of success.To some, true happiness may well come with the perfect career role. Some people are good at making that sort of decision. Maybe I can’t make it because that’s not the kind of thing that will bring me true happiness in life. Maybe I’m not the sort of person who is defined by her career. I’m not saying it’s a bad thing for others to define themselves in this way; I’m just saying that maybe it’s not exactly for me. Maybe the reason I’ve spent years trying to come up with an answer and have the same handful of air that I always have is because there isn’t an answer to be found.

For me, it seems that happiness is found through various smaller means, rather than the giant umbrella of “career.” I am made happy by love and companionship. Good food. The soft fur of a cat on my face. Beautifying my home (AKA nesting). Cinnamon Bun Coffeemate. Country music. A really well-done TV show.

This system of happiness—this happiness methodology, if you will—may seem inefficient, and to some, perhaps less worthwhile. But I argue the opposite: these various little things add up to equal happiness and validation as a successful career role might for a career-oriented person. More importantly, because I have so many to work with, the things that make me happy can come and go as I like. I might get tired of Cinnamon Bun Coffeemate, but I might get twice the vacation time next year that I get this year, and I’ll get to travel somewhere I’ve never been.

The main thing is that I have a lot of wiggle room. Maybe I’ll find a job I enjoy much more than my current job, and I will significantly increase the amount of happiness I derive from my work. It’s a constant give-and-take. But, through these various smaller means, I am working toward one bigger goal, the same way a career-oriented person may be.

When I grow up, I want to be happy.