One of my clearest memories regarding my childhood is a speech that my mother recited over and over - often several times a year:
’’Sarah, you have to live with yourself. You’re the one that has to be able to sleep at night because of the choices you make. YOUR career choice doesn’t keep ME up at night, so why should I push you in one direction or another?’’
She went on to help me list my strong points, including my interests: Writing, computers, communications, music, and the like. ’’Now, do you want to go to college to accomplish these goals of yours? You do? Then go find the grants and scholarships - sorry dear, but I’m flat broke.’’ (The truth, unfortunately - if Mom could help me pay for my continued education, I’m sure she’d have cut a check many years ago!)
My mother encouraged me to find something that I actually enjoyed enough to make a living at. She never made suggestions outside of what I showed an obsession with. Truly, all my mother wants to see is my happiness in life.
And so, back in May 2001, I called her from Ft. Huachuca, Arizona, where I was enrolled in a Military Intelligence course.
’’Mom, I want to be a writer.’’
’’Great, sweetie! I take it that means you’re going to college as soon as you get out of the Army?’’
’’You bet! I want to learn more about writing...not to mention take a few courses in the other things I’m interested in.’’
My mother couldn’t have been more proud of me - because, ladies and gentlemen, I chose a profession to break into that made ME happy.
Later, my grandmother raised many objections. ’’You won’t make that much money being a writer, Sarah.’’
’’That all depends on what I write, and who I write it for, Grandma. And besides which, I can be perfectly happy with fifteen thousand dollars a year. Money’s not that important to me.’’
’’Well, how are you going to live?’’
’’Grandma, it doesn’t matter. Even if I make little to nothing with my writing, I can still make it in the world. I can take a part-time job, I can save my money...and besides which, Grandma, I’m obsessed with journalism. All I want to do is write. Most of the time I don’t even care if I wake up and get dressed or not! As long as I can write, I’m happy. Nothing else matters to me anymore.’’
Then she suggested that I go into the medical field. Mainly because most people in that career field make lots of money, have great insurance, and work in a clean, sterile environment.
’’Grandma, I don’t like hospitals. I don’t like dealing with sick people. I don’t like working on the machines that go into hospitals. I don’t like food service. I don’t even like mopping floors or reading x-rays. There’s nothing for me in a hospital, or in a doctor’s office, or anywhere else in the medical field.’’
’’But you could make a hundred thousand dollars a year, Sarah!’’
’’Grandma...I would kill myself before I’m thirty.’’
My point is simply this, everyone:
Find something that you adore. Find that one - or maybe those two - things that you are completely and hopelessly in love with and go for it. Do some research into what exactly it would take for you to make a career out of your obsessions. And if you’re fortunate enough to discover that it can happen, then your workday will be like taking a vacation - you’ll love your job so much that you won’t notice you’re working.
Money isn’t everything to me.
Neither is social status.
Or what I put on my resume`.
All I care about is being allowed to write. Hopefully I’ll get paid to do it someday, and I won’t have to settle for a less-than-fulfilling career in another industry.
But, even if that doesn’t happen, and I end up in the data entry field for the rest of my life, I’ll still be happy. Because, you see, I can always pick up my pen and write.