Choosing what to “do”

What do I really wanna do? I never thought that when I reach my late 20s, this question will still keep me up at night.

I never had a dream job. I’ve thought of some jobs when I was younger just because I wanted to be rich or just because “working” is essentially the only path for everyone. When I was younger, I can’t even remember if someone asked me what I want to be when I grow up and I didn’t really think too much about it. I thought I just needed to finish school, get a job, have a family, and that’s it. My life will flourish. How foolish.

I once wanted to work at an office because it looked “cute” wearing office outfits. I once wanted to be a writer because I enjoyed reading novels and it looked “cute” writing while having coffee in a pretty coffee shop. I once wanted to be a pianist because it looked “cute” and elegant. See how foolish I was? Listing it down, I guess I just wanted to look cute. I never had a dream job because I wanted to do something. All my reasons were petty.

As I grew up, I became envious of people who had concrete dreams. You know them. People who wanted to be doctors, lawyers, bakers, reporters, etc. Even when they were younger, they were focused on achieving their goals. They were driven. They did everything in line with their end goal, with passion.

Now, you might judge me as a lost dumb female. I’m surprisingly not. I have a good-paying job and some people look at me as the “accomplished” one.

My current career path is a bit different from the ones I listed above. When I was choosing my College Program, I thought I wanted to be a Doctor. The reason is the usual reason for traditional Asians. Prestige, money, and the “I want to help people” (but seriously, I do. Who doesn't?) part. The difference was that, at a young age (not super young-more like College but immature “young”), I was exposed to Doctors that I hated. Doctors that treated their patients as subjects from where they’ll learn something or gain something from. There was no care at all. I wanted to be one of the few ones who cared or at least acted like they care. But alas-reality kicked in. Our money and my skills couldn’t make it to Med school. Scholarships were scarce and I also needed to earn money fast.

I settled for the next best thing I could think of and thought I’d enjoy — a Researcher. I even took graduate studies. I liked writing. I liked wearing lab coats. I like experiments. What could go wrong? Of course, everything can go wrong.

I’m currently in the Policy-making aspect of my job. I’m not conducting experiments and wearing a lab coat. I’m not contributing new knowledge to my field. I’m just writing boring policies (I know this sounds ungrateful and entitled, I apologize but I’m just really sick of my job now) for years now. I have very weak social skills but my work requires me to communicate with a lot of respectable Scientists who have DIVERSE personalities. I’m quite okay with communicating via emails but once you ask me the same question face to face or via an online meeting? Blank. I turn into an airhead.

I’ve grown to hate the job I wanted or I thought I wanted. Although luckily, it pays well so there’s that.

I wanted to blame my past. I once wished I was asked what I wanted to do when I was young, so that I could be aware that I could choose career paths and that it wouldn't just magicaly appear once I graduate. But that’s just an excuse. I’ve come to realize that what’s happening with me is quite normal. Most people work because they have to, not because they want to. You just have to find the middle ground. A job that pay the bills and you quite enjoy from time to time.

So what’s next? If you're reading this to get advice on how to answer this question, I’m sorry but I still don't have it. I’m just here to tell you, if no one else told you yet, that you're not alone. I won’t tell you that it’s okay to be stuck or the usual inspirational messages you read everywhere. I’m just here to share my random thoughts and maybe show you that you're not alone. From wanting to be a pianist — to a Doctor — to a Researcher — who knows what I’ll do next time? Who knows what you’ll do next time?