“I feel like I am supposed to be doing something else, but I don’t know what.”
It all started that first fateful pandemic summer. The year was 2020, I had just turned 33, and a voice whispered to me in the depths of a sparkling blue pool set amongst the backdrop of the desert mountains while the wind rustled the palm trees, whispering her secrets, as she always does, on the tailwinds of the petals and leaves whooshing through space and seemingly, time.
I was on a little weekend getaway in Palm Springs to celebrate my birthday — just me and three of my closest friends, tucked away from the world and its trials in the walls of a beautiful AirBNB we had splurged on.
It happened in an instant — I had been laying there, floating in the pool, mindlessly allowing the water to hold me as I drifted off into a half-awakened state. A question had been on my mind for awhile; one that had been born out of a feeling and deep knowing that how I had been spending my time all these years was not how I was supposed to be spending my time. Something which had always felt off — the career I had chosen, the jobs I had pursued, the life I was living — all of it wonderful in many ways, but none of it truly mine.
The first moment I knew had come two years before. I was working in a job which I had relentlessly pursued and had been finding success in, when one day, we received the news that the company was going to either be sold or shut down. In that exact instant, when everyone else was upset and in shock, the first and most immediate thought I had was, “oh, I don’t have to stay here.”
OH. I don’t have to stay here.
Here, in this place which I thought would make me happy, but which never actually did.
Here, in this place I thought I wanted to be in, but which I have since learned has always been what I thought I needed versus what I actually wanted.
The thing is, I had been pursuing everything in my life like that for as long as I could remember.
I pursued a degree in design because my best friend at the time had decided to pursue a degree in design.
I advanced my career in design because my boyfriend at the time had advanced his career in design.
I made a switch from marketing design into product design because someone once said being in product was better than being in marketing.
And these are just the choices I made in my career.
I had been making choices based on those around me for as long as I could remember. It sounds crazy to say — to consider that my life choices as an adult for so many years could all be based on something other than me, but consider this: if no one ever taught you how to make choices for You, if no one ever taught you how to listen to your inner voice, if no one ever told you anything that you could see or imagine was possible for you, how would you ever know?
And the answer is this: you wouldn’t. That is, not until, usually by a moment of still, divine intervention, your inner voice became loud enough for you to hear. The nudge, as one of my mentors and friends has called it.
For me, that nudge came in the form of a voice.
There, in that sparkling blue pool, I had been talking with one of my friends, sharing out loud with her this very thing which had long been on my mind—
“I feel like I am supposed to be doing something else, but I don’t know what,” I told her.
To which she just looked at me and replied, “what if there was nothing to do?”
I looked back at her with curiosity. What if there was nothing to do?
I contemplated the question.
As I did, a sense of ease began to come over me, for if there was nothing to do, I could just be.
I would eventually learn that it is in these moments of surrender, of acceptance, of letting go of needing to know, that we are invited into the deepest knowings of our soul. And so it was in that space, in that moment, there beneath the rays of the hot, life-giving sun, that I heard the voice which has led me here, the voice which spoke, “you are meant to teach.”
You are meant to teach.
A momentary lightness filled my being. For that is what happens when you hear the voice of your soul—a moment of deep connection will bring peace like nothing else in this world ever could. A knowing, something felt without question or doubt. The call.
Now, it has been two years since I heard that voice. I’d like to say it’s been a dandy cake-walk since, but the truth is far messier. I could recount the steps I’ve taken since, and perhaps, in another piece of writing, I will, but I can sum it up like this for the moment: receiving the call to fulfill your life’s purpose doesn’t mean that all of a sudden the path becomes clear. It simply means that you have received the gift of knowing, and now, you must find the way.
For the past two years, that is what I’ve been doing — finding the way.
Who am I to teach? What am I even teaching? Have I learned all I need to know to be able to do this? Will this path allow me to switch careers, to make enough money to support myself and all that I desire, and is that what this is even about? Could it be about that? How will I stand out in a space where so many have already been carving out their own paths?
These questions, and so many more like it, are questions I’ve grappled with since I set out on this journey. I have started and stopped a variety of pursuits so many times, letting my self-doubts get in the way of sharing, of serving, of teaching. I have made a lot of personal life decisions which have seemingly distracted me from staying on the path — decisions which have taken me away from this purpose but continued to bring me the fruits of life in other ways. Like I said, receiving the gift of a call is one thing, but answering it…well that’s another game entirely.
And still, the thing about all of that is this: the path I’ve taken is the path I’ve needed.
I have learned well that there is no perfect next step. There are only the steps you have taken, and the steps you will take.
And whatever those steps may be, are always going to be exactly the steps you need.
So, as I continue to messily take these steps, to ebb and to flow with all that life affords me, and to watch my mind wonder, “who am I to teach,” it is never long after which I remember that nudge, the voice which continually reminds me, “well, I am someone who is called.”
Author’s note#100daysofwriting | This essay is the first in a series of 100 I am challenging myself to write before the end of the year 2022. As of today, 111 days remain. Will the essays be perfect? No. Will they be done? Yes. As a life-long recovering perfectionist who loves to write but fears subpar work, to write with such frequency and disregard for most standards except the one that asks, is it published? will be an adventure, to say the least.
Topics, I’m sure, will span the breadth of seriousness to silliness, will cover the grounds of spirituality to observations I may make in a nail salon, but truthfully, there are no promises in such a challenge, except to say that yes — they will be done.
You can keep up with my writing challenge by following me on Medium, or subscribing to my email list.