I don’t know what I want to do with my days on this earth.
I really don’t.
I’m 25 and I want to do something but I don’t know what I want to do.
I know I want to help people.
So … now what?
What do I do?
There’s tons of options for me, right?
I could be a volunteer, serve regularly at my church, or go back to school and get a master’s degree in something I want to pursue further. Maybe I could open a restaurant or really go for it and start pursuing comedy full time … but what if I don’t want to do those things yet? Or what if I don’t want to do them at all?
This is the dilemma I find myself in.
I really like acting. It’s so fulfilling and I think I’m decent at it and I like the idea of traveling around like some kind of carnival worker and telling stories. I really like improv. It’s a wonderful way to dig into the dirt of human emotion in hopes of finding diamonds in your imagination but even if you don’t it was still fun to play in the mud.
I love inspiring people and talking to people about their goals and dreams. Even if I haven’t accomplished my own yet.
I really like working out. I love warming up and preparing to sweat and the feel of a barbell or dumbells. I like stretching and I like the drive to push my body to new limits and discover new reserves of strength. I wouldn’t mind training to become some kind of fitness athlete (trying really hard to avoid the “C” word.). To be on the stage and prove myself against any and all comers. I know I could do it.
Well, okay, maybe I’ve got a few ideas … but still …
I’m directionless. I feel rudderless. Or not rudderless, but stuck at this branching waterway and each path is filled with roaring water and bright sunshine and shade. And it sucks. The one thing they don’t tell you when you graduate college is that there’s nothing once you finish. No syllabus, no clubs, no productions, nothing. There’s a big long stretch of road labelled “YOUR LIFE”, and you’ve just left the on ramp, and your phone just died, you don’t have gps, and there’s no gas station for 20 miles, and there’s a thick fog, and everyone you meet is deaf and dumb and blind and—
Too many analogies?
Don’t make me laugh.
I’m terrified. I am terrified and I feel secluded in my brain and I don’t really know what to do.
And believe me, I have heard the cliches. I have heard the platitudes and the uncomfortable pauses in conversation.
“You’ve just got to trust God.”
“You’ll figure it out.”
“You’re 25. You’ve got time.”
Well, that’s cool and all, but it does not help. Not in the long run.
It’s nice to hear, and comforting every now and then, but it does nothing solid.
I think people give those bits of advice because they honestly don’t know what to say, but they’re afraid if they stay quiet, they’ll explode, or I’ll explode, or the world will explode because they really do want to help.
Or maybe they’re afraid of silence.
Or maybe they’re afraid of not being heard.
Whatever the problem is, it’s okay.
I’ll figure something out.
I’ve got options.
The options scare the conservative people I love, and sometimes they even scare me, but they’re there. Maybe I’ll be a successful performer who meets tons of people and makes the world feel better and smile a bit more, or maybe I’ll teach and inspire others to go out there and fill their cups with passion and contentment and fulfillment. Maybe I’ll preach the Word from a pulpit, or in a wet, rainy, dirt-floored church filled with happy people just wanting to hear an inspiring word. Maybe I’ll finally be super fit and get a training license and help other people reach their personal fitness goals and in so doing find some of my own self-worth along the way. Maybe I’ll compete in more fitness competitions and find my platform there. Idk. Maybe I’m too modern for my own good.
Maybe I’ll try and fail at all of those things time and time again.
Maybe I should just take it one day at a time and not stress myself out.
Maybe I should stop asking everyone else “What do you think?” and make a decision for myself and actually pursue something wholeheartedly like I did when I was in school.
I don’t know.
Until I do, I’ll keep driving with my fog-lights on.