Bubbling Over

I appreciate every subscriber I was notified of after my first post (seriously, thank you!), and there was one in particular that made my eyes light up with joy. It reminded me of where my whole writing journey began - with a simple, quiet suggestion from this dear, childhood friend.

I never enjoyed school growing up. I didn’t have a favorite subject. I did know that I was horrible at some subjects and better at others, but that didn’t make me like them more. They were just easier to do. As college loomed ahead, I was told to do whatever made me happy. That was nice to hear and really, it is a great sentiment and I’m thankful I had that freedom, but when you don’t know what makes you happy or what steps to take to find it, that statement can trap you in its own way. Since I didn’t have my own anchor, I was tossed about by what I heard was practical, or what friends were doing because they liked it, only to enter into classes and realize that no, this was absolutely not for me. I didn’t know why though and it only made me feel more inferior and stupid. Every time I switched majors I was faced with utter panic as I tried to ponder what I would like in 20 years, 40 years and the answer over and over again was a big, fat “ NOTHING”.

My second to last major was interior design. I was in the program for a year and a half and honestly, it was so fun. It was a blast to create, learn about and develop colors, build project boards, and learn how to sharpen special pencils and write in architectural fonts. But the further I got in, the more I could not answer the question my professors were always asking of me, “What inspired you to create this? What’s your vision behind it?” My answer (in my head as I fumbled to say something inspiring) was always, “Um, I thought it looked cool?” I recognized the cut-throat environment this design world was in and I knew I would not thrive trying to defend my designs with nothing. Yet again, it was clear in blazing letters that THIS. WAS. NOT. FOR. ME. (Now, in retrospect I recognize aspects that were a great fit for me, but as a whole it was not. But back then it was very black and white in my mind - I had failed yet again.) I remember feeling completely frantic, stressed to the point where I couldn’t think straight and ultimately, hopeless. If that was something I liked and I couldn’t even do that, what was even left? What was I good for? I dropped out of my classes and took the semester off, hoping to get some time to figure out my life, yet again.

It was during this time that I was at my friend’s house. I vaguely remember sharing about my predicament, yet again. And I remember her asking in her quiet way, “What about creative writing?” And I remember thinking, “That’s a thing? You can do that?” And within, a little piece of hope came back. I had taken some creative writing classes in high school and it had been fun. And people told me I was good. But for some reason, I never thought of studying that, likely because I didn’t think you could find a job in that. But by that point, I didn’t care. I had so many credits and I had been in school for close to 4 years. I just wanted to finish and get a stupid degree.

So with that little piece of hope brewing in my heart, I went home and looked up the Creative Writing program at the University of Washington (my local university) and for the first time, I got excited looking at the class titles. More hope was added to my being. I had a bit of a journey to get there - I had to apply for UW (doubtful I could get in), apply specifically for the Creative Writing program (more doubt), and in the mean time, I would take courses at the community college I had been at that would transfer directly (yes, by that point I was basically my own advisor. I never saw an advisor until I was graduating. I didn’t even know I could!). But I took it one step at a time, and I made it in, and found myself at a university, taking writing classes and (mostly) loving it. I was so relieved to just be at that point, to be enjoying it and for the first time in my life, getting A’s.

The story could end there, but it doesn’t. Because unlike what 18-year-old me thought, life after college doesn’t just magically propel itself onward. A college degree in and of itself doesn’t give you all the answers of who you are and doesn’t delineate all your future steps. It is, believe it or not, just one step along the way of your life journey and if you let it, life can continue being a discovery every step of the way.

So yes, I graduated from college (and got married and moved states in the same week but that is a whole other story :) and then I was faced with the next question: What the heck do I do now?!

Graduating with a creative writing degree does not mean that TA-DA! You are now a writer! I learned that there was a whole world of different types of writing out there and I had no idea where I fit. I also did not know how to write without an assignment. I’d never written on my own and did not know how to develop my own ideas without the (welcome, for me) pressure of a prompt or deadline. And so I joined the ranks of people who scoffed at their wasted degree and began to hop from job to job trying to figure out yet again, who I was.

It wasn’t until my mid-20s that I made a decision to stop hoping that the next job or career move would be THE one, and to just take a step in a direction and see what I learned about myself and where that lead me.

It was this turn from focusing on an answer, to focusing on the journey that finally freed me.

And this is what led me to social media/web content writing, which then taught me I wanted to work face-to-face with people instead of their companies, which led me to swim coaching kids, teenagers and college students, which led me to interact with so many people and their life struggles, which then led me to the world of counseling and career development and my masters program. Which changed my life.

Up until this point, I wanted to write. But I felt like I had no content to write with. But it was in my masters program where I found myself talking about ideas and potentials and not being able to shut up (NEVER experienced that), and where I began to sense this bubbling within of stories and ideas to write.

Since then, this bubbling has continued. At times it has been very still. Other times, I feel like it is just about to boil. I don’t know where it is going to take me. But one thing I’ve learned on this journey is that if you let things rest and simmer, instead of forcing things to happen or trying to find THE ANSWER, those experiences you culminate along the way are what causes that simmering to turn into a rolling boil. It may look like nothing you ever imagined, and yet, it feels just right.

So thank you, dear friend, for being a quiet, and yet important catalyst for my journey.

You never know how much impact one question could have. You may never see the result, or it may take years, but don’t let that stop you from asking anyways.