I often get so caught up in the how: how to accomplish something, how to reach my goals, how to get what I want. This obsession has sometimes led me down paths that weren’t right for me. For example, in college, I chose to major in engineering because I believed it was the best way to make good money straight out of school with only a four-year degree. My ultimate goal was to be financially stable, and engineering seemed like a reliable way to achieve that.
I’d heard about people landing solid jobs after graduating with a mechanical engineering degree. It was considered a stable field; you got paid what you were worth, and you could afford some of life’s pleasures—maybe a trip to Europe, a nice home, supporting your kids through college, and comfortably setting yourself up for retirement. The end result sounded great. But the journey to get there was full of confusion. I rarely understood what was going on in class, my test scores weren’t great, and the concepts didn’t click for me. I realized, despite believing I was “mathy,” my true desire to learn lay elsewhere.
It took almost four years before I finally switched to a business major, and that opened my eyes. Once I made the change, I felt more engaged and motivated. I ended up graduating with degrees in finance and marketing after a couple of extra years.
From this experience, I learned that if you actually like something, you have a much better chance of being good at it. Your natural interests bring an innate drive to learn—far more than you’d ever muster doing something that doesn’t come naturally or that you don’t enjoy.
In my pursuit of money, I got hung up on how to get there, rather than staying open to different paths and focusing on why I wanted it. The why is more complex. I wanted money and a stable financial future for a wife and kids someday, because I wanted them to feel secure. I had a secure childhood and wanted to pass that feeling on to my own family. I also admired my parents’ example: they gave me a good life, and I wanted to do the same for the people I loved.
The funny thing is, my dad actually followed what he wanted to do from the start. He loved to draw, so he began college in art school. When a teacher graded one of his projects a C (even though my dad and many others felt it was excellent), he became disillusioned. He felt art was subjective and couldn’t be fairly graded. Eventually, he decided to pursue another dream—being a doctor who works with kids. He loved kids and wasn’t motivated purely by money. My parents often talk about the high interest rates on his loans back then, rates that would seem insane today. But he still went for it.
I’m not sure why it took me so long to notice that my dad’s path was a perfect example: he chased his dream, and the how worked itself out over time. Now, I want my life to be the same. I want to write, and I want to earn enough money so I don’t have to worry about bills, to maybe travel to Europe, and to have a comfortable retirement. I want my kids and grandkids to have the same security I had growing up, so they can explore their own passions and find what truly motivates them.
So I offer you, the reader, a chance to reflect on your own life. Is what you’re doing now what you really want to be doing? Does it naturally motivate you, keep you engaged, and excite you enough that you might do it in your free time? If not, that’s okay—nobody is constantly doing something they love every second of the day. Still, I challenge you to dive into something that genuinely interests you, something that lets you express yourself and impact others in a meaningful way. You never know: by starting with your why, the how might just fall into place.
Why do I want to write about these topics in my blog? Because it relaxes me. It helps me envision a future where I can earn a living this way, and it gives me hope that maybe someone out there is reading these posts and finding a bit of guidance.
Maybe they’re struggling to find their place, and my stories could help. But if I’m honest, I’m doing it first and foremost for myself—as an outlet, a way to process my feelings and find resolution. And that’s enough for me right now. Hopefully, it leads me to how I’ll reach my bigger goals. For now, just writing is enough.