I Wanted to be a Farm Girl

Over the last year or so....or maybe even longer I have really been thinking about what I am passionate about.  

You see, I struggle with depression.  Some of it is because I am not doing what I am passionate about.  I sit in an office all day doing what I do.  Not that I hate my job, but I am not passionate about it.

Insurance is not what lies within my dreams.

Nor was law....(I was a legal assistant for a good stint of time.)

I went to counseling when I was really struggling.  I spoke about my past.  I spoke about my dreams and what I desired to do.  I think this was the first time ever that I voiced it and didn't receive criticism for it.

You see, when I was five years old and a wee tot in kindergarten we were asked to state what we wanted to be when we grew up.  I was so excited to share that I wanted to be a farm girl.  I drew a picture of a girl standing next to a horse in a barn.  My detail was extraordinary for a five year old. (In my opinion)  You could really tell that was what I was passionate about in 1975.  Really, that is what I wanted to be.  I loved animals. I loved the big yard.  I loved the garden and orchard.  I loved living on a small farm.  And my teacher asked what I wanted to be.....with my chest bursting with pride and joy and a sticker on my picture I ran up the driveway to show my mom.  With a big smile on my face I handed her the picture and she looked at me and asked...

"Why on earth would you want to live on a farm for the rest of your life?"

I was deflated.

That was the first of many attempts of figuring out my passion and was the first of many replies of "Why in the hell would you want to do that?" and "You can make any money doing that." oh and my favorite....

"Have you lost your damn mind?"

Obviously my mother was not supportive.  My dad was pretty much non-involved.  He was off selling insurance.  He sold insurance for a good portion of his life.  I am pretty sure that wasn't his passion.

But....that's his story and this is mine.

I cannot just blame my mom.  (I do love her and miss her)

I could have just thumbed my nose at the negativity and just have done what I wanted to do.

In high school we were supposed to work with the counselor to develop our goals.  I really never had any.  I was afraid to dream big and reach high.  I molded myself into whatever anyone wanted me to do.

I was accepted into a university in Colorado to pursue a degree in design.  I wanted to design buildings and their interiors.  I still look at structures with awe wishing that I took that path. 

There were other plans.

I was told that I had to go to school locally or it would not have been paid for.

Again, I was defeated.

Worried that I couldn't do it alone, I set out to major in Economics and pretended to be happy.

That was then....

And now, I sell insurance.

*sigh*

It isn't my passion.  My passion is lurking somewhere underneath, just wanting to bust out again.  Fear is what keeps it hiding.  Hiding so deep that even I am unsure what that passion is anymore.

I have dreams at night of me up on stage.  I am a motivational speaker.  I am telling others to find out what it is that they really want in life and to go out after than damn dream.  

We only live once.

There are no do-overs here.

So many of us are unhappy.  We walk around pretending that this is the life we want.  We take our anti-depressants and plod along.

I often think back to my drawing.  I know I have it somewhere in a scrap book.

I believe that it is time to pull it out and hang it where I can see it.  It needs to become a constant reminder that my passion is there and I just need to find it and let it soar.




*Update*  Here is the drawing.  Don't be too jealous of my five year old self and my creativity.