Knowing What I Want

At this stage of my life, I hear so many people say, "I just don't know what I want. I don't know where I want to end up. I just don't know who I want to be." Being in your 20s seems to mean that you are in the ultimate era of uncertainty, confusion, and self-doubt. To some degree, I can connect to such restlessness, because I know how much of my life is still in flux. I have changed so much in the last few years, so there is no way I could entertain the fantasy that who I am today is exactly who I will be when I am 35. Surely, I may end up in a different place, have different relationships, different priorities, different opinions. All of these things have changed from a year ago, so who's to say they won't change again a year from now?

 Despite some natural and inevitable insecurities, however, there is one really big part of my life that I am absolutely sure about. My career choice--my desire to teach---has not once wavered. In this part of my life (which I would argue is a relatively significant part), I do know what I want. I am not unsure. I am not hesitant. Quite frankly, I am not open to possibilities, because I know that nothing else would bring me the fulfillment and meaning that this job would. The challenges are glaring and my insecurities are at moments overpowering, but it still doesn't change what I want.

That is such a wonderful feeling. And, it's also such a terrible feeling.

It's such a wonderful feeling, because it grants my life a sense of structure and consistency that some of my friends do not have. Four years ago--my sophomore year of college--I sat down with my advisor (and now close friend) and decided that I wanted to go to graduate school so that I could one teach English on a college-level. Since then, I've had a single goal, and I've worked towards it. Every decision in my life has slowly--centimeter by centimeter--brought me closer to a dream being actualized. I can look back and identify progress.  Seeing how far I've come rationalizes and justifies the work, time, and energy that has gone into the journey. It's a wonderful feeling, because I do not toss and turn in bed at night and wonder what I am going to do with my life (instead, I wonder how I will do it). I have a deep sense of conviction, commitment, and passion for what I (believe) is one of my greatest life's purposes. My goal does not waver; my desire does not change; the future I envision and long for only becomes more clear and defined the closer I get to achieving it.

Yet, it's also such a terrible feeling, because it means that I have a hell of a lot to lose. The problem with desiring something so much is that if you don't get it, you're set up for the heartbreak of a lifetime. The problem with not being able to imagine yourself doing anything else is... well, that you can't imagine doing yourself anything else. I am lucky that I have clear and defined goals, a sense of purpose and calling; but, but this also leaves me scared and vulnerable, knowing that the more I want something, the greater the potential loss will be. Imagining this loss feels more than disappointing; it's literally identity-shaking.

I once heard someone say that you cannot ever adequately prepare for something while simultaneously believing that it may never happen. I understand the message behind this idea: Confidence and belief in oneself is invaluable! Self-doubt gets you nowhere! One's attitude will predict one's success! I am familiar with this talk. However, I also pride myself in being a fiercely realistic person--most days also quite cynical--and can't help but ask the gloomy (yet arguably also appropriate) questions such as, "What if I can't do this?" "What if this doesn't work out?" "What if it's not meant to be?" "Even if my own intelligence and tenacity is enough to get me through, what if the job market sets me up to fail?" "What if I waste a decade of my life just to end up in a career that I can never achieve?" I'd like to think I'll never have to answer such questions, but, the weekly cover story of The Chronicle of Higher Education often reminds me that there's a decent chance I will. (For a more graphic reality-check, just Google "Don't Get a PHD!" You can read about tons of bitter ex-academics who now work at Barnes & Nobles--which is also shutting down soon.)

The good news is that the more entrenched I get in this career, the more I want and love it. So far, I don't regret any of the time that I have invested in this pursuit; in fact, the time I spent in front of a classroom last semester as a Teaching Assistant were some of the most fulfilling moments of my professional career. The sad news is that the more entrenched I get in this career, the louder these questions become. And, every day, I (like many of my peers, I am sure) am left wondering if I can find some kind of balance between these two perspectives, find some kind of peace of mind that honors my goals yet doesn't succumb to ultimate naivety. So often we discuss how to live in the midst of not knowing what we want. Lately, my great question is, how do we live when do know?

Oh, some day!

"The reader knows himself as he was twenty years ago and he also has in mind a vision of what he would be, some day. Oh, some day! But the thing he never knows and never dares to know is what he is at the exact moment he is ."-William Carlos Williams, Spring and All