Man, I remember staring at those job boards, feeling like a total alien. Everyone around me seemed to just get it, you know? They’d pick a major, land an internship, climb a ladder. Me? I just felt… sticky. Like I was trying to run through quicksand whenever I imagined myself in a typical corporate gig. My insides just screamed, ‘No way!’
I graduated, tried to do the sensible thing. Landed a job in marketing, thought, “Okay, this is creative, right?” It was supposed to be. But it was all about metrics, pushing products, hitting aggressive targets. My brain was just not wired for that kind of relentless push. My energy, my drive, it felt totally misplaced. Like I had this engine, but it was designed for sailing, not for a drag race. I’d sit there, watching my colleagues strategize, compete, and I’d just feel this intense need to… understand the story behind the product, or how it could truly help people, not just make a buck. That kind of sharp, aggressive ambition? It just wasn’t my jam.
Every morning, dragging myself out of bed felt like a monumental effort. My boss would talk about ‘conquering the market,’ and I’d just want to curl up in a ball. I knew I had ambition, I wanted to do something meaningful, but this wasn’t it. The drive was there, but it was like a quiet, internal current, not a loud, external roar. I started thinking, “Is there something wrong with me? Why can’t I just get with the program?”
The Big Shift: Listening to My Gut
One day, after a particularly draining week of ‘synergy meetings’ and ‘aggressive Q3 strategies,’ I just snapped. I walked in, gave my notice, and didn’t even have a plan. My parents thought I was nuts, my friends too. “What are you going to do?” they’d ask. And I honestly had no clue. Just this intense feeling that I needed to drift for a bit, to see where the current took me.
I started small. I volunteered at a local hospice. Not because of a career path, but because I felt a pull there. Just sitting with people, listening to their stories, being present. It was raw, emotional, and completely unstructured. And you know what? My energy, my ‘Mars drive,’ it actually started to flow there. I wasn’t selling anything, I wasn’t competing. I was just being, holding space. I felt useful, truly useful, for the first time in ages.
Then, a friend mentioned she was taking an art therapy workshop. Sounded interesting, very different from my old corporate life. So I signed up. No pressure, no grades, just messing around with paint and clay, expressing stuff. What I found was amazing. The process, the ability to connect with emotions through something non-verbal, it just spoke to me. I wasn’t trying to be the best artist; I was exploring, facilitating, helping others find their voice.
- I started spending hours just observing, not performing.
- I signed up for random, no-stakes classes, like pottery and creative writing.
- I volunteered for causes that just felt right, especially those involving vulnerable people or animals.
- I read a ton of books on empathy, human connection, and alternative healing.
It was a messy time, absolutely. Financially, it was tight. I took on odd jobs here and there – dog walking, freelance writing for small, passion-driven blogs, even some light organizing for folks who needed a gentle hand. But slowly, a pattern started to emerge. I was drawn to things that required:
- Deep empathy: Really understanding where people were coming from.
- Creativity without rigid rules: Expressing and exploring, not just marketing.
- Service and support: Being a helper, a guide, a quiet force for good.
- Fluidity and adaptability: Not needing a super rigid plan, but flowing with what came up.
Finding My Flow and Owning It
I realized my drive wasn’t about being number one in a hierarchy. It was about making genuine connections, about bringing a bit of softness and understanding into the world, about creating spaces for healing or quiet introspection. My ambition was more like a river carving its own path, gently but persistently, rather than a bulldozer forcing its way through.
This led me down some paths I never would have imagined. I ended up getting certified in something called ‘therapeutic creative expression facilitation.’ Sounds fancy, but it’s basically using art, writing, and movement to help people process stuff, especially those who struggle with words. I started working with community centers, small non-profits, even some online groups. It wasn’t ‘climbing a ladder,’ but it was building something, piece by piece, that felt deeply aligned.
And then I started this blog, just sharing my messy journey, hoping it might resonate with someone else who felt a bit out of step with the conventional world. It’s not a huge empire, but it’s mine. My drive, my action, it’s all poured into this. It’s about connecting, sharing, and creating a little ripple of understanding.
It taught me that my ‘oomph’ wasn’t broken; it just needed a different kind of battlefield. A gentler one, maybe. And once I finally listened to that quiet current instead of fighting it, things started to really flow, and I finally felt like I was thriving.
