I had a conversation with a friend tonight.
I discovered I don't have a real passion.
I talked about how that makes me feel like my life will be unfulfilling.
I also talked about how scared I am of that.
I contemplated whether not having a real passion makes you not have a purpose.
I know that this was a conversation worth having. It just was hard to face the reality of my fears, and what I know to be true, versus what I won't admit to myself is true.
This conversation partly came about after watching 13 Going on 30 Sunday night. During the scene in which Jennifer Garner is completely inspired and consumed by her re-design project for the magazine she works for, I made the remark that I didn't think I had something in my life that gave me that kind of passion to work on something. I have never felt that I wanted my life to be consumed by something like that.
The following night, in our conversation, my friend told me that she felt her passion was Victorian literature. She lives for it, and it stimulated by it. It's something that inspires her and something she's passionate about.
Another friend of mine is quite obviously passionate about being a nurse in the near future. Yet another is definitely passionate about politics, and public policy (to be specific.) They feel strongly about these things, they want to put all of their being into them (more or less.)
But for me, it's kind of funny, that even though I know Education is something I'm interested in, and I will be happy to have as a future career, it's not my passion. Teaching is not something I will love completely. It's not something I can see myself pulling a Jennifer Garner over.
I decided that if indeed I did have to name a serious passion about anything in my life, it's the people I have in my life. I care deeply about them. And that's both a blessing and a curse, because while I have you, I feel like the most fulfilled person on the planet. But once you're gone, or I lose you, the way I feel is that if I'm not something to you, what am I? If I don't have you, what do I have? Not that not having you in my life makes me worthless, but rather that I feel like I don't have much to give if I can't give to you. I don't feel fulfilled if I don't mean something to someone, or can't give something (whether it be of myself, or a material object etc.) to someone I care about, regardless of who they are.
I've always been a giver. It's just in my nature. Sure, there are times and moments when I am a selfish person who likes to take, but more than likely I will give of myself rather than take from someone else. I'm always thinking of others, how I can make them happy, how I might be able to offer them advice or something else of myself. But when I don't have another person to think about, it makes me think of myself. And I start to feel selfish, gross, and annoyed with myself.
It's quite an interesting conundrum.
These are the serious thoughts of a college junior. I hope you think about this sometimes too...