When you wear you heart on your sleeve, confide in those you trust, it's hard to tell them something they don't know about you. In fact, they might know too much about you and wish you'd keep some things secret.
I mulled over what to write about. I'm still on the fence but figured I'd go with my normal strategy of beginning and just taking it where the words want to go. Admittedly, the easy way out, but a way that often works out for me.
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I always wanted to be a psychologist. Something about the way the human brain functions--and malfunctions--fascinated me and continues to pique my interest. Why I didn't pursue this path has much to do with my own issues: lack of confidence, lack of endurance, lack of motivation.
But, it's always been easier to just blame my circumstances: lack of funds, lack of academic ability, lack of encouragement.
I'm sure a psychologist would have a field day with me.
I love when people ask kids what they want to do when they grow up, then proceed to poo-poo their dreams. I was told a psychology degree was only worthwhile if you got a Ph.D, that anything in between wouldn't land me a good job. Then, when I adjusted my goals, I was told by a teacher in middle school I could do better than being a teacher when I told him that was my career goal. So, I crossed that off my list. Add to it a family who didn't know how to navigate the post-secondary world--one that didn't even expect any of us to go to college. See? It was my circumstances, lack of support by well-meaning people who didn't want me to fail but didn't seem to know how to help me succeed.
When I did make it to college, I had to work full-time--sometimes a full-time job and a couple of part-time gigs--to pay my bills, including college. My $500 scholarship from high school didn't last long. I continued to earn around the same GPA I did in high school--3.2-3.4. Above average. Slightly. And, like high school, I thrived in classes where writing was the main mode of demonstrating my learning. Bring on the essay tests. Multiple choice wasn't my jam.
I transfered to UF, declaring Public Relations as my major. I would get to use my writing skills, use the social skills I discovered at my first job. I was also interested in advertising, but I couldn't draw, so I figured this was the next best thing.
And then came JOU 3101. News Reporting. Trying to get interviews for my first story did not go well. I never even gave it a chance. The first person who refused to talk to me sent me cowering. The one who yelled at me then hung up solidified that this wasn't for me. It's not what I wanted to do anyway. I took a D in that class versus finishing that assignment.
I took a psychology class, volunteered to tutor at-risk youth through the department. I don't remember why, but I think that experience was some kind of psychological experiment itself. I had to interview with the professor running the program a few times. I know I left those interviews feeling bad about myself, shut down. My naive world-view was beginning to be tainted. I wasn't smart enough to pursue psychology, wasn't ballsy enough to pursue journalism.
Excuses, excuses.
I finally settled on declaring English as a major. Liberal Arts degrees were encouraged back in the day, and this was something I could do. Read and write. Those things were my jam. In other words, I took the easy way out. And, other than one professor who made me feel less than, I thrived in those classes, found my voice when it came to writing about and discussing literature. My GPA for my major was as close to a 4.0 as I'd ever come.
Success. Or was it? I had no idea what I was going to do with this degree. I really didn't care. By then, I was already successful as a property manager with a large company (making more money 25 years ago as I make right now). At this point, it was just about finishing, getting that degree. A personal goal rather than a career goal.
That is something people don't know about me: I often take the easy way out. Well, really usually. And then blame my circumstances. It's not something I'm proud of. I don't even know if it's something I've acknowledged until recently. But, it is definitely my M.O.
This is not to say I regret anything about the way my life has turned out. This is not to say I think of myself as an unmotivated slug. I just have some work to do in the next few decades.
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Easy Way
The easy way is often criticized--
a method employed by the lazy, unmotivated,
a cop-out for the weak of heart.
Perhaps.
Perhaps not.
It's possible that the easy way
gently leads you in the right direction,
takes you where you need to be.
Perhaps not but
perhaps.
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