Finding my Purpose Act 1: age 0-22

 A bit of a late bloomer is probably the best way I would describe my journey to finding my purpose (which is still a work in progress… Hello, blog).

It makes sense, because I’ve always been a little late to the party. Born over two weeks past my due date, my baby teeth came out later than everyone, which led to the awkward phase of having braces when everyone else was getting theirs off. I still have a bottom retainer glued in behind my bottom teeth and I’m not even sure if that’s normal.  Not that we’re here to talk about that. But I I feel like it’s always been a part of me that I’m sort of late to sorting things out (not to be confused with general lateness because if you know me, I’m always the one you can count on to show up not just on time, but early- I’m rather anxious about these things). I was never the person who had a great passion or vision for what I wanted to be some day. I just sort of went with the flow is the best way to describe it. I went to a liberal arts college and didn’t declare a degree until they forced me, and didn’t dare add a minor because that was just another decision I couldn’t make. Communications sounded like the perfect catch all because what did that even mean? Perfect I’ll choose that. Not to be boxed in. I even started a masters program while an undergrad just in case I’d want to do that later because that was more cost effective… I just couldn’t make a decision about what I’d want to do down the line. So I just kind of went with whatever came my way that felt appealing in the moment, and sort of non committal. College was one of the best times in my life, and I spent most of it focusing on having fun and figuring out who I was outside the identity I felt was largely created for me when I was growing up. I loved the new found freedom and ability to make choices for myself. Which, I largely made “good” ones. But one part of my identity that was drilled into me is still one that is my Achilles heal. The thing I’m probably going to be working on forever. And that’s about work, and money. 

Through most of my life what I enjoyed most was creativity, in lots of different forms. It didn’t even really matter the form. Acting, music, art, dance. You name it, I dabbled in it. And even if I wasn’t good at any of it, I didn’t even care. It just lit me up (particularly some of my fav roles like “my angry vagina” as part of the Vagina Monologues in college… I wish you could see my families expressions when they were selling different varieties of chocolate “pussy pops” at the show). But I was also raised to believe (by my family and society, and I think this is true for many of us, so no dig on my family here) that the arts were for enjoyment and fun, not work. Not a way to make a living, to support yourself. Coupled with the fact that I certainly was no superstar, I was totally onboard with the notion that those were things that would just be hobbies. The only problem was, nothing else really lit me up. So I fell into the life of what was expected and modeled for me. Corporate America would provide me with security, stability, and a steady paycheck and 401k. Nobody likes their job. It’s a job. None of this thrilled me, but I didn’t know any different so I went on my way. And I was ok with working, even working hard. That part never bothered me. It just felt like such a big commitment to decide what I would do for work for the rest of my life (as I also had this idea that you made the choice and stayed forever which sounded very daunting). 

I started working jobs at a young age. Starting with babysitting, then working in my families business. From there I went on to work in a theater box office, followed by a short stint at stop and shop (my least favorite especially during rotisserie chicken season), followed by many catering jobs. I would completely pack every summer with multiple jobs and little time off. I liked it. I liked making my own money, being somewhat independent, and I largely enjoyed the work (and more so, the friends I made in those jobs). And to me, making my own money gave me the freedom to make choices that I hadn’t had before- what kind of clothes I could buy, going out to eat with friends, etc.

Segway to college, and I kept all my summer jobs, and added jobs at college too. I was super lucky that I didn’t need work study, but I was determined to work anyway. I became an RA (resident advisor), worked in the call center, and worked in the campus mailroom- eventually becoming the mailroom manager. I did an unpaid internship at a nonprofit that focused on food assistance for people experiencing food insecurity which I enjoyed, but they didn’t have any long term job opportunities available. So when I graduated, I was at a loss. I knew I couldn’t keep doing those small jobs (or I thought I couldn’t) and by the time I graduated, I had zero plan. Had not applied for anything. Anywhere. Which was problematic because I knew I did not want to move back home. That seemed like going backwards and I was looking forward. And I had found Boston to be my new home. Luckily for me, there was a little grace period. I had a little money saved from my jobs, and I had an apartment to live in through the end of the summer. My brother had vacated his off campus apt and my parents were still on the hook to pay out the remainder of the lease through the summer. So I moved into a 3 bedroom tiny apt in Beacon hill with 3 strangers and their Boston Terrier, into a room that only fit a bed. I had until the end of August when the lease was up to figure out how I would live. For the first month, I went to the beach most days and enjoyed my new found freedom. Then I went on one miserable interview for an entry level job outside the city where multiple trains and buses were required to get there, and after missing the stop I needed for the second round of interviews, I called that all off. I didn’t know how I could do that every day, twice a day. Not to mention, the job was essentially cold calling. I now realize how horrible a fit that would have been for me. My non committal self had the brilliant idea that I should go to a temp agency and just float around odd temp jobs and maybe then I’d figure it out. So I did that, and it lead me to a job that was in Beacon hill, blocks away from where I lived. I thought that was pretty meant to be. It was at a healthcare company that managed nursing home facilities, and I was working as an executive assistant to multiple dept heads, including marketing. It was a temp to perm job which sounded promising. I could try before I buy. The day I went to train alongside the girl just a few years older than me who was leaving the job she said “do not take this job, it’s awful.” To which I said, “I have to, I need the money.” Was the job terrible? It was pretty bad. But it was convenient, and I’m happy to say the girl who trained me became one of my best friends, led me to my first group of girlfriends outside of college, and ultimately introduced me to my now husband. So clearly, that part of my journey was meant to be. And it paid the bills. I moved into my very own adorable 300 sq ft studio (maybe 300 sq ft is being generous) in Beacon Hill by myself. I got the job permanently, and enjoyed spending my money on cute “corporate outfits” from Express because I love a good theme (and the outfits were probably what I liked most about the job, besides bagel fridays and happy hours at Emmets, the bar across the street from our office). Under a year into my first job, wouldn’t you know- the company was sold and most of us were getting laid off (including me). This whole corporate America thing was just like the movies. 

 So here I was a year out of college with still no clarity on what I wanted to do, but this time there was no wiggle room. I needed to get a job fast, and keep making money to pay my rent and be able to secure health insurance. I was low key panicking, but not enough to keep me from a good party. So one of my work girlfriends who had already moved on to a new job hosted us at her beyond fabulous, brand new penthouse in Back Bay (complete with rooftop pool outside her door). It was at her party that I met one of her girlfriends from college who happened to be looking to hire someone, and she invited me to come in to interview with her and the team the next week after a lovely evening of drinking together. Who says wine doesn’t solve all problems? 

To be continued ;)

xo

P.s. this post is part 1 in a 4 Act series on finding my purpose! Check out Act 2, Act 3 and Act 4 next.