I used to say I wanted to be happy when I grew up

When we were young, it was a very common question. “What do you want to be when you grow up?” I always used to say I wanted to be “happy”. It was the only thing I knew for certain I wanted.

I never thought very long and hard when giving that answer. Of course I wanted to be happy when I grew up. 

I remember grownups laughing at that because it was such a cliché. Still is. My peers would write down all kinds of vocations. The ones their parents practiced, the ones they idolized, ones they thought they wanted. I never felt certain enough about any vocation to voice it. 

To write something down or say it out loud felt way too permanent.

I did have secret dreams of becoming a singer, dancer or model. I wanted to be in the spotlight, on stage and famous. I wanted to be looked at and important. 

Those dreams were never based on a love for the vocation itself. It was the recognition that I really wanted. The feeling of being wanted, desired. Maybe even envied. To be sure that I mattered. 

I probably also wanted to have enough money to buy anything I wanted.

I don’t think I’ve ever written down or told anyone that I wanted that. It was probably one of my deepest protected desires. I felt ashamed to want it. 

I was so afraid if I said it out loud and it wouldn’t work out, I’d be a failure. I thought I’d even feel like a failure if I voiced it and didn’t do everything in my power to achieve it. 

I couldn’t ‘kinda’ want it, so I pretended that I never wanted it at all.

I’ve always felt a bit of shame for not pursuing those secret desires. I thought it meant I was too lazy or scared to put in the work that was required to get to a place where my talents would be recognized. Or that I must not want it enough to suffer for it.

But looking back I don’t think I ever really wanted to be a famous singer or dancer. Or model for that matter. Even though I loved being onstage. And still do. 

But those were the only vocations I thought would make me feel seen. Ignoring the actual work that goes into those jobs. So I guess I was right, I didn’t want it enough to suffer for it. 

Especially not when I started to grasp how tough of an industry it was. I wanted it to come easy to me. Maybe I even half expected it to be thrown into my lap. A childish expectation that someone would see my potential and take me under their wing. 

But putting in work to become better, auditioning and getting rejected, going to the right places to get seen by the right people? No, I was never up for that.

I might’ve felt bad for not pursuing when I thought I wanted it, but I’ve never regretted it. 

Maybe I knew that I desired those jobs for the shine and not the work. And that’s why I never wrote down anything I wanted to become. Writing it down would make it real. I couldn’t see myself do any job specifically, not really. The only thing I knew I wanted was to be happy.

Later though, when I was a teenager, I started to make this random answer more of a personality. I would lean into it, find meaning behind it. 

I’ve lived up to it so far. I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up. And I’m 27. 

“I'm 27 years old. I have no money and no prospects. I'm already a burden to my parents. And I'm frightened”

So far, not knowing what to become - the only direction being my enthusiasm, brought me to some cool places. Making a smart choice comes easy, but so do impulsive ones. All dependent on how I feel about it.

Does it excite me? Would I want that? Am I willing to give something else up for that? 

Slowly, not knowing what I wanted to become became part of my personality. I decided I didn’t want to follow a specific path. Not make a grand plan for my life. Not strive towards a specific goal. I would decide what I wanted to do next based solely on my curiosity and enthusiasm at the time. 

Everytime I make a decision or take a next step, I would review all the options carefully, and the one that excites me the most is the one I pick. I do like to know my options.

I’ve lived my life that way up until now and I’m quite happy. Did I make it too much of my personality? Maybe. I think it suits me, for now. 

Who knows what the future holds. For now, I’m happy.