The Promise (and Fear) of a Blank Page
I was an English major for two reasons: 1) I was no good at Math, and 2) I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. So, I chose to study what I enjoyed. Simple as that.
The fun of having so many paths to choose from quickly turned into a paralyzing fear when I graduated college. How could I possibly commit to one path? What if I sucked at that path, and all others like it? What if I failed?
Instead of cracking the whip and being determined to figure it out, I chose what I knew: data clerking. I started working full-time at the government office that financed me during my college years. Then, when I moved to the city a year later, I sought after a position as a receptionist at a title company. (English degree? Nah, not ringing a bell.)
I worked at that title company for nearly 3 years. I made wonderful friendships, learned a great deal, and watched myself flourish. At the same time, however, I watched myself wilt. There’s nothing quite like passive living that causes your spirit to diminish.
So, I quit my job—and here I am. I’d like to quickly dispel the romanticism behind this decision. Many of my friends and family have congratulated me for choosing to see the world and find myself, but so far, all I’ve found is even more confusion. Once again, I’m a college grad who has too many choices and no clear compass to point me in the right direction.
I’ve had a few dark days where I’ve lain in bed and stared at the ceiling, wondering, “Is my life ever going to amount to anything?” Yowch, bleak! But true. The reason I so easily stayed as a data clerk was because I was afraid to do anything else. Fear of trying is one thing — at least there’s an idea in mind you’re afraid to try. But the fear of never coming up with an idea worth trying? Now, that’s crippling.
With that said…
I would much rather face the fear of an empty page than face the fear of an already written one. As a data clerk, the page was written for me. I saw the progression of my life as it followed that path, which is exactly why I quit.
Currently, I have no idea what to do. The page is so blank, it’s blinding. I chose to travel in order to figure out my next step; turns out, the step before my next step involves floundering in muddy confusion. And that’s a good thing. It’s painful and uncomfortable and not romantic in the slightest — but it’s also absolutely necessary.
The author Mark Manson says, “Life is about not knowing and then doing something anyway. All of life is like this. It never changes. Even when you’re happy.” Even when you’re traveling, I might add.
Don’t let a false sense of security write the page for you. There is no “Once I (get married/quit my job/move away/find myself), THEN I’ll finally be living.” You’re living now, and that means accepting uncertainty. Embrace where you are and where you’re going. Embrace who you are and who you’re becoming.
Embrace the blank page before you — and start writing.
