Not Your Way

I hope you live a life you’re proud of, and if you’re not, I hope you have the courage to start all over again.[Eric Roth]

I’ve touched a lot on doing what’s right for your life, not being afraid to change direction. I’m really starting to embrace the idea that I can do lots of things with my life, and I don’t have to do things exactly the way I always thought I did, exactly the way we’re all told.

I grew up knowing education was very important and a privilege. (I actually spelled that right on the first try!) My mom didn’t go to college until she was working two jobs and I was old enough to know what night school at community college was. She earned her associated degree and continues to work the same job she has for as long as I can remember, and she’s great at it.

At 14 I would tell her I didn’t want to go to college, I was going to be in a rock band–ha! At 18 I would go to state university thinking I wanted to be a chiropractor. That lasted for about two months, tops. Then I wanted to teach high school, then I wanted to do animal research, and then I wanted to write (but I didn’t need to change my major for that).

My mom has always been very concerned about my career plans. She thought I actually changed my major as many times as I changed my mind about what I wanted to do, but in reality I only changed it once freshman year. She was always really supportive of me teaching because she knew I wanted kids, and teaching would grant me generous amounts of time to spend with them, unlike what she had. Even now, graduated, living in Los Angeles, and still no full-time job, she pushes ideas about steady, “good” jobs I could get.

And I get it. I wholly understand and empathize with her. I almost feel guilty because I was given every opportunity she wash’t, and I’m sitting here in California watching the (lack of) clouds roll by. She’s concerned for my well being and security and my future children because that was the center of her universe for so long.

I see the majority of people I know doing exactly what she wants for me: graduating, getting a “good” job, getting a house, getting married, being stable. But something repels me from that. Admittedly, I am engaged. I was fortunate to find someone I can hang out with 24/7 and not want to strangle and then proceed to shut myself in my room (most days). We both also have unconventional goals and career plans, which helps. I understand the value of having your chickens in a row and knowing how much money will be in your account in six months, I do. It would be a crushing weight lifted off of my back if I had enough money to allow me to live for the next year should something happen.

For a long time that was all I wanted–stability. And now at nearly 25 I want the opposite (in moderation). It isn’t easy doing things this way, and it can be extremely stressful. I also know that waking up and going to a job that you don’t absolutely love and coming home exhausted every day is also challenging and stressful. No matter how much money or nice things you attain, you never have enough. That’s our human struggle. There is a threshold of happiness that we as a Western society have taken for granted.

I can see myself and my life two ways.

The first: I spend the time I have working on and towards things I’m passionate about. I don’t have an excess of money, but I have a roof over my head, food to eat, and I enjoy “working”. I have time and save up extra money to travel and see the world. I have enough. What I have is enough.

The second: I find a job that pays me decently to come every day and do mundane work. I’m tired, cranky, and don’t believe in what I’m doing. I have a fancy roof over my head, an abundance of food, and lots of things I don’t need. I’m too exhausted mentally and physically to be present at home or do things I enjoy. I have nice things, but I want more. With each new purchase, I find something else I “need”. I can’t take off work very much to travel and rest. I’m not doing anything I want to do in or with my life. I am unfulfilled and craving more.

Somehow option one is more appealing to me. I would love a nice house with things I like and to be comfortable and taken care of. But I know I would always be wanting something I don’t already have. When you shift from desiring what you don’t have to having gratitude for everything that is present in your life, a wonderful thing happens. You realize it is enough. You realize how trivial all that crap is. You realize it’s all extra baggage, just stuff.

Some of the happiest people around the world are dirt poor. That said, I don’t think it’s necessary to be poor to have a rich soul. That speaks volumes because when you think about it, how truly happy are the wealthiest people? They’re often miserable. They have all their things, all their money, and they’re still chasing this mythical happiness. They’re working themselves to death, mentally and emotionally sick, and they never have enough. On the opposite end of the spectrum, there are people living in slums in the poorest countries who find so much joy in the smallest packages.

When you have a lot, you need a lot. When you have a little, you need a little. I think the goal is to find a balance, a happy median. I’m okay with the sacrifices I might need to make to figure that out. I’m okay with giving up my $15,000 cushion just to be safe if that means I have the freedom to see the world and indulge in its cultures. I know when I have kids things will be a little different, but I want them to see the world, too. I know you need money to do things, but there is a limit. I don’t need millions of dollars to be rich, and neither do you. It’s an illusion.

I’d rather be a slave to my passions than money; I’d rather my success be measured in experiences than dollars, as cheesy and millennial as it all sounds. It’s okay to make your own way. It’s okay to do things differently than other people, or how you thought you were supposed to. It’s your life, your happiness, your future. Don’t let anyone else dictate how you should be living or accomplishing things. If you’re wanting something more, go get it because when you’ve lived your life, you can’t blame other people for telling you to do things a certain way. The choice is yours to make. What works for one person or thousands of people may not work for another. Your parents’ way doesn’t have to be your way. Your friends’ way doesn’t have to be your way. Make your own.

My Biggest Regret

Sometimes you do things that sound like a good idea at the time, and then you realize you were probably better off not having done them. And then there are times when you know all along you probably shouldn’t be doing the thing.

We all have these moments, and we all need these moments. You live, you learn, and sometimes you do it all over again until you really get it.

The “no regrets” lifestyle had become popular as I grew up, but that was typically an excuse for young people to bear no responsibility for their actions and do as much reckless damage as possible. To each their own. In retrospect, my shameful moments seem a bit tame in comparison to some of my peers’ one night stands and loaded binges.

That being said, the thing I regret most in my life is having gone to college. Incredibly anticlimactic, I know.

No, really. The more I live past graduation, the more I regret it. I in no way believe college is a negative choice, and I don’t regret it in the obvious ways, because I had a really fun four and a half years (not all fun, but that’s another post). I’m proud of having done something few people in my family have, and I’m proud I stuck with something until the end, even when I really, really didn’t want to. Although, these days I sort of wish I hadn’t.

I enjoyed learning and taking lots of different types of courses. I enjoyed meeting new people. I enjoyed trying new things. I enjoyed living with my friends. I enjoyed going out, and I enjoyed staying in. I enjoyed the experience I had that was college. But to me and for me, it wasn’t worth it.

It wasn’t worth four and a half crucial years of my young life. It wasn’t worth the physical and emotional stress. It wasn’t worth the hour and a half drives I routinely made. And it certainly was not worth over $46,000 that I most definitely did not have.

Why wasn’t it worth it?

Because when I was eighteen I didn’t know what I wanted to do with the rest of my entire life. I didn’t again at nineteen when I changed my major to Animal Science. I didn’t every year I remained there, questioning what other field or focus I could possibly change to in order to satisfy my interests and long-term goals. I didn’t have a clue, once again, when I graduated and received a bachelor’s degree in that same major. I did, however, know for certain I did not see myself doing anything past final exams with my degree, specifically.

College, for me, was a huge waste of time and money. I say that with caution because I am so incredibly grateful for the opportunities I’ve had, especially my education. But honestly, college is not for everyone, and I think it’s a travesty that kids are pressured into deciding their entire futures before they’ve ever had a lesson outside the comfort of their high school classroom.

It wasn’t worth it for me because I still–over a year later–do not have the slightest idea what I want to do for a career. The closest thing I can come up with does not require a degree of any kind.

So here I have a life-long debt because it was better to go earn a degree whether I wanted it or not because I’d make more money with it. It was true for our parents, but it’s not anymore. I work part-time at a cafe, and my degree is useless.

I want to write. I want to write stories and movies and anything, and I didn’t need to throw away four years and forty-six grand to work on that. In fact, had I started working towards things that interested me when I started studying things that didn’t, I might have something published, or at least finished by now.

If I could change anything I’ve done in my life, I would hold off on college, work for a year or so, and go volunteer and travel until my money ran out. I would meet lots of people, see lots of things, go lots of places, and learn more than four years of lectures. I would definitely have learned more about myself. Maybe I would have even figured out something I wanted to study in college, and then I would have went and earned a degree in that thing and pursued it as a career.

Who knows?

I like to believe everything happens for a reason, good or bad, and that it always works out the way it’s supposed to. So maybe I was supposed to waste a lot of my youth figuring out what I definitely did not want to do. Maybe I was supposed to waste a whole lot of money that I will probably not be able to pay back until I retire from the job I don’t have when I could have used it doing something I’ve always wanted to do. Maybe I’ll figure it all out, and maybe I won’t. But I definitely do not see myself ever going back to school, and I definitely refuse to work a job I cannot stand, especially for the rest of my life.

As long as I’m surviving with the little money I make, and I have enough time and energy to put towards working on something I do actually want to do, I’ll be happy and feel fulfilled. When the ghost of $46,000 gets the better of me as it sometimes does, I say to myself, “No regrets.”