So way back in January, when I rang in the New Year in my very comfortable house, with my very comfortable life where everything was predictable, I wrote a post about how I had no idea what I wanted to be when I grew up. In which, funnily enough, I said this line:
Not knowing of course, that within 2 months I would be 31 (well I knew that), moved away from that home town, and Boatman would have a job where he actually grows oysters. I really should ask him about pearls…
Anyway, I digress.
The up side of the whole moving across the country thing, was that there was no time to contemplate the ‘what is my greater purpose’ existential thing, and instead just time to focus on the important stuff. Like where to get the best fish and chips.
However now that we are more or less settled and life is back to cruising along, that question keeps coming up, and it’s not me that’s asking it. The thing about moving, and meeting new people, is that they want to define you by your career, so in the last two and bit months, I’ve had so many variations of this conversation, it’s almost funny.
Other person (OP): So, do you work?
Me: Not at the moment. I’ve still got Ava at home.
OP: So what did you do before kids?
Me: (after a pause as I once again try to work out how to answer this question) well I was really young when I had Taylah, so I didn’t actually do anything, but I was studying.
OP: Oh what were you studying?
Me: (Sighing and taking a deep breath before launching into my spiel) Well I wanted to go join Youth With a Mission and be a missionary, but someone talked me out of that, so I started studying social work, and didn’t really like it. So I used the credits and did a bachelor of arts for a bit, before deciding I really wanted to do Media Communications. But then the Uni accidentally cancelled my enrolment part way through the semester in a supreme stuff up, and Bridie was born and I just stopped and never got back into it.”
OP: Oh…. So what do you think you will do?
And there, my friends, lies the 66 million dollar question. Because in 7 months miss Ava will be in Kindy, and then full-time school after that, and I am supposed to be a real grown up (as opposed the pretend one who plays with dolls and mops the floor all day), and decide who I want to be.
The problem is, I have no idea. And I said this to Boatman the other day; it’s not that I don’t have anything I’m not passionate about; the problem is that I’m passionate about so many things, how do I choose one? And even if I’m not particularly passionate, I’ll still put my heart and soul into it. I never thought I would enjoy working at Liquor Land last year, and yet I did, and to this day, can not walk into a bottle shop without tidying the shelves. I give my heart into everything, which is a great quality, but at the same time, I want to give my heart to the right thing. And this is not just a job to help the budget balance we are talking about; this is me being me. More than a SAHM and a blogger.
And it’s not quite as easy as ‘chase your dreams,’ either. Because whilst my dreams are awesome and would change the world if they unfolded in real life like they do when they whisper in my head, they aren’t going to make any money any time soon. Some dreams, I think, are for pursuing here and now, and some are for the future, with all the years of background work sown before hand. And that is a truth I’m more than happy to accept.
But that doesn’t help me right now.
Or in 7 months time.
And so the mystery continues. For the mean time, I suppose I’ll keep having the same conversation about my lack of concrete career aspirations, whilst I play make-believe, mop the floors, and keep on sowing into those grandiose future dreams.
Trying to work out not just what I can do, but that which I can’t not do.