When You Don't Have a Passion

 Once, I was in a college class and I overheard two boys discussing the show Survivor as we waited for our professor to show up.
As a fan of the show, I spoke up. "I'm a huge Survivor fan!" I interjected.
One guy turned toward me and said, "Well, who do you think is going to win this season?"
I hesitated. The season hadn't started yet. I didn't even know the contestants' names yet. "Well, I don't know yet. I'll sure I'll get a better sense after the first episode."
"If you haven't researched the cast, you're not that "huge" of a fan, are you?"
I sat silently as he proceeded to tell me about his weekly Survivor podcast, numerous auditions for the shows, and an actual Survivor contestant he had interviewed. 

I still think about that moment a lot. Before that precise moment, "Survivor fan" was a part of my identity. I think I even had a Survivor reference on my online dating profile at the time. Though I am fully aware now that that guy was an asshole, he was correct. In comparison, my fandom could not be considered "huge". I dedicated no time outside of show hours obsessing over the cast or challenges. I'd never even applied to be on, despite saying I wanted to. 

This has been a somewhat common trend throughout my life. I thought I liked journalism until I took a single journalism course and was even a tiny bit as excited as my classmates. I love watching sports, but can't even tell you who won the Super Bowl 5 years ago and fall behind in conversations with my dad and brother. I have always been an avid reader, but in an interview for a high school English teaching position, I was quizzed and told in no uncertain terms that I didn't have enough knowledge of literature to fit the position. I recently joined a trivia group in town and told them that I knew a lot about music and movies, but it turned out my knowledge was not deep enough and I couldn't answer a single question in either category. I like hiking, but I don't track my trails and set goals. I like baking, but I've never made anything to brag about. I feel fairly tech-savvy, but when my cousin talks about computers, it's like a different language. I'm a casual gamer, a mediocre bowler, a blog-once-a-month writer. 

I don't have a "passion."

At my current job, we have people called Subject Matter Experts. If we have a question about a specific product, we find the SME for that product and they will have the answer. I thought, Wow, wouldn't it be amazing to be the person that had the answers? What would I want to be an "expert" in? I can't think of anything. There's a river near where I grew up that was often described as "a mile wide and an inch deep." Recently, I've started to think of myself like that river. I love a lot of things. I'm curious. I'm inquisitive. I love to learn and I'm willing to try new things, but nothing in my life has ever really been my expertise. My interest only goes so deep.

Does this bother me? A little bit. I think we are told to follow our passions in life and realizing you don't have one is like going through life without a map. But sometimes it's when you're off the path that you discover the most beautiful things. Sometimes when you're not buried deep into something, you're free to run after a new opportunity. As J. R. R. Tolkien said, "Not all those who wander are lost." So I'll keep wandering. 

Joyful, Grateful, and Kind

 In January, everyone wants to be something new. The month is like a big reset button. I think that's great. I'm the kind of person who actually likes Mondays because of that "new beginning" feeling. Over that past year, I've done a lot of reflecting on who I want to be. I think that comes with the territory of quitting a career you thought you'd spend a lifetime doing. I know what matters to other people. As a people-pleaser, I'm always attune to what others are talking about the most: money, appearance, job title, home's appearance, etc. The problem is I've spent my life trying to be what everyone else admired that it was difficult for me to specify what means the most to me. 

My parents have always put a lot of weight into being successful. Our grades were important and we were always encouraged to our best on every assignment. Honors programs and awards were praised, and now degrees and promotions are touted. 

In the community I grew up in, involvement was important. I remember how often I heard adults in my life publicly talk about kids that weren't on the football/basketball/volleyball team in disgust. Since sports weren't my forte, I tried desperately to hit the right involvement percentage by joining clubs and plays and student council and even videotaping sporting events so I didn't seem lazy. 

To my friends, loyalty has always been important. I want to always show up with open ears and arms. I want to be on their side no matter what. I have dropped everything else at their request. 

My bosses always respect a go-getter attitude. I constantly volunteer for extra tasks or responsibilities. I stayed after school doing all kinds of tasks to show initiative. "Whatever you need me to do" became a common mantra. I never wanted to be disagreeable. 

And I can't deny that I've tried to be what several guys wanted in my life. For the guy always speaking up in class, I wanted to be intelligent. How many nights I spent poring over the reading so I'd have something insightful to say! For another, I tried to be helpful, always offering my time and energy to drive him to the airport or help him move or bring him a treat after a bad day. 

I want to be clear. None of the previous examples are bad. I am so glad I worked hard in school and was involved in so many activities. I'm glad I have been a loyal friend and a good employee. But I think our ideas of who we want to be change throughout the stages of our lives. These qualities served me well in the past, but I have new priorities.

There are people I know that always have a beautiful house and are great hosts. Some that always look beautiful, with hair and makeup and clothing meticulously thought-out. Some that are in great shape. Some that are amazing leaders and are moving up in their careers. I have idolized all of those kinds of people. I could strive to be any one of them and with enough effort, I could probably be successful. But, right now in my life, I don't think any of those is the person I hope to be.

In 2023, I want to be 3 things: joyful, grateful, and kind. 

Joyful comes first for a reason. Life isn't worth living if you aren't prioritizing joy. I want to always be laughing (even if it's loud and obnoxious). I want to be the person who finds the joy in situations that lack hope. I want to continue seeking adventures and consuming stories and seeing the world and not taking life so seriously. I've seen too many people, 20+ years my senior, worrying about the number on a scale or the number of steps they've taken that day or the number in their investment account. We don't remember numbers of anyone when they leave us. We rarely dwell on their mistakes or inadequacies. We remember the memories of joy. So, I hope I have created a lot of them.  

Grateful is next. Over the past few years, gratitude has helped me a lot. I try to think about 3 things I am grateful for every day. It helps me to not fall into feelings of despair. It honestly helps me sleep...or get out of bed in the morning. I also think it's important for me to express my gratitude to others vocally. I think we can assume that those we love know we are grateful for them, but sometimes they need to hear it. We all want to be appreciated.

Kind will always make my list. The world can always use more of it. It is probably the thing that I am attracted to most in others as well. I will be kind to a waitress even if the service hasn't been superb. I don't know what her day has been like. I will be kind to coworkers because we work better if we are working together. I will be kind to strangers, but also to family, who have the power to frustrate me the most. To me, this is essential to who I am.

I hope your 2023 is everything you want it to be.