My Father's Wisdom, Sylvia Plath, and Unlearning Years of Restrictive Thinking
Finding freedom in not having it all figured out.
![](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F4aa875d9-ea99-4094-8856-c29f86922d56_640x640.jpeg)
Last month, during a quarterly performance review, my boss asked me, “What are your goals? Where do you see yourself in the next few years?”. I stuttered and joked about that being a loaded question. I eventually answered more appropriately, but it wasn’t sincere. Truthfully, I have been hesitant about the questions above, not because of a lack of ambition or self-determination, but as a counter-reaction to spending so many years convinced I had my one goal and life figured out.
I think from a young age, we are told that while college is the time for exploration and finding yourself, there is this looming responsibility to make sure your time spent in college allows you to create a plan for your life:
Pick a “realistic” major with decent pay
Maybe pursue a master’s because the undergraduate degree wasn’t enough
Get a job
Advance at your company
Keep working!
Retire
Die (eventually)
However, people fail to mention the introspection, self-reckoning, and discovery that disrupts your life in your 20s. Then you are faced with a decision: you either leave the new chapter knocking at the door, eventually drowning out the persistent thuds, or hesitantly invite it in like a new friend who could change your life.
Throughout my final years of college, I had a gut feeling that I was not only on the wrong path but engaging in limiting beliefs about what my life could look like, my interests, my goals, everything; after all, I had done all this work to set myself up for this rigid idea of success, I couldn’t stop.
This feeling only intensified when I went to graduate school. Looking back, the resistance to change stemmed from the fear of being perceived as having failed at my grandiose plans and the fear of starting over — a conversation for another day.
The Preverbal Come-To-Jesus Moment
By the time I finished my Master’s program in 2023, the long-term goals I had set at the start of college in 2017 were no longer valid. I devised a new plan and found a job that provided flexibility and allowed me to stay in New York. For the most part, I was content. Then the knocking started again, but this time, it was different.
2023 was the first year I wasn’t as bogged down with coursework and maintaining my grades — essentially forced to stay on the straight and narrow— and I allowed myself to pursue other hobbies.
I started taking photography and writing classes, which were interests I had when I was younger but suppressed the desire to pursue them once it came time to be serious about college prospects. So much pleasure came from my other pursuits that I felt myself falling out of alignment with my job and field.
It was Christmas 2023; I was back home in Houston for the Holidays. With my remote job, I could be with family for as long as possible. I remember conversing with my parents and cousins about my career and the company I worked for; everyone was so impressed. “You should be so thankful you have a job like that; it must be nice!” they would say. Of course, I would smile and respond, “Yeah, it’s great!”. But I was lying to them and myself.
Yes, I was thankful for the job and the flexibility, especially in this marketing, but I was enjoying myself; it was mind-numbing and disheartening.
The night before traveling back to New York, I told my parents that I didn’t feel passionate about my job or the industry I was working in, a slight shock to them as I had just spent six years getting two degrees to work in that very industry.
“So what do you want to do?” my dad questioned. I paused, fearing that I was veering into the failure and disappointment territory, but there was nothing else I could say except, “Honestly, I’m not sure at this point.” He shrugged and replied, “Well, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
While it felt like I had just blurted out my deepest, darkest secret, I was also perplexed. I was expecting a lecture, even yelling; why was he so calm about that?
When I returned to New York the following day, I called him about the conversation and piqued his brain, my aimless attempt to seek some direction.
He said, “You’ll figure out what you want to do; after you stop thinking, you have to pick one thing, make a plan, and run with it.”
“Life is not linear, and neither is your journey. Stop forcing square pegs in a round hole.”
The man loves stretching metaphors, but he was right. I could not move forward with the same mindset that brought me to this point.
Deep down, I knew I was not the kind of person to operate in such a narrowly structured vacuum. Still, somewhere throughout my life, an amalgamation of societal and personal pressures and fear convinced me there was only one way through this lifetime.
What I craved the most was a juxtaposition of interest, creativity, and room to be swept away by the ebbs and flows of life without anxiety about where I would land but solace that it would all work out for the better.
Shifts in Thinking and Approaching the Future
Slyvia Path’s Fig Tree Analogy from The Bell Jar entered my life shortly after that conversation with my Dad.
The fig tree demonstrates branches of future goals and ideas that occur by way of indecisions, and as we look towards the future, why must we explicitly know what we want instead of understanding that individuals are comprised of so many thoughts, beliefs, and core purposes, that cannot be combined to catalyze towards one set goal.
Which logically makes sense. As human beings, we are composed of so many different interests and facets that influence the trajectory of our lives and even each minute of our day; how can we realistically account for years of our lives moving towards one goal and one goal only? And when we stubbornly hold on to tunnel vision for one goal — despite our gut telling us otherwise — a more significant force always finds a way to break down the blinders to reveal something better, something lighter, something unknown.
The integration of my Dad’s words and the literature of Ms. Plath didn’t magically just change my outlook on the future overnight; In fact, it’s still a daily struggle to not fall victim to the false narrative that I have failed or given up at ripe of 24 because I am not in the pursuit of one target, one job, one career, one life. And for the first time, don’t have a flawless 30-second pitch to answer the question, “Where do you see yourself in the future? What is your 5-year plan?”.
As I balance work, life, and everyday challenges, I prioritize answering the knock of introspection, leaning into my interests, and not having an answer to the question: What do I really want in this life?
I am both comforted and frightened by the fact that the possibilities are only limited by our time on earth, but the opportunities to be everything all at once are simply infinite, even if nothing turns out the way we imagined.
![](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fdfbd9230-c782-4829-849e-22390117b1e5_724x1136.png)