HOW I REINVENTED MYSELF AT 36

MY IDEAL CAREER TRAJECTORY

At 22, I left my home country of France to study abroad. I felt privileged: I got to teach French to students who were barely older than me, I was in a top US university, surrounded by smart, ambitious students from all around the world. Later, I was awarded a scholarship to keep teaching and to get a chance to receive a second graduate degree. These first few years, I really felt as though the world was full of possibilities. I was not much of a planner back then, if you had asked me what my life might look like in 10 years, I probably would have said something clichéd, along the lines of: “I’ll get my Ph.D., find a steady job, and start a family”.

MY ACTUAL CAREER TRAJECTORY

I’m now 37 and none of these things have happened. I did get a MA and worked several jobs after that, but to stay in the US, I needed a company to sponsor my visa. For anyone who does not have a background in STEM fields, well…let’s just say it’s a tall order. To be honest, I did not take job hunting as seriously as I should have. I’m not going to delve into the why—at least for now—but let’s just say that I did not give it my best shot. So, after living in Seattle for close to 10 years, I had to go home. I was devastated. Looking back on this period is still tough for me today. I think I was too proud to face my own failures. It was easier to live in denial.

A STRANGER IN PARIS

As soon as I returned to France, I felt “home-sick”, out of place. It’s a strange feeling to not feel at home in your home country,  almost like an out-of-body experience. You leave a place for 10 years, things are bound to change. I knew that. Yet, I was still taken aback by how much it had changed. It did not help that among the few friends I had kept in touch with, few could relate to my experience. My gut reaction was: I have to go back to the States. I already had a Master’s degree in Policy Analysis so the only I could go back was to get into a Ph.D. program and the ones that could offer a “full-ride” were extremely competitive. Still, I thought I had a shot if I aced my GRE (a standardized test requested by graduate programs in the US). For 3 years in a row, I took that test, each year spending a few months studying with a vengeance. I was relatively confident in my verbal/writing abilities so 90% of my time was devoted to getting better at math. I always hated math as a kid so I had to force myself to spend hundreds of hours studying geometry, problem-solving, and algebra. Here’s the kicker, my math score decreased year after year. The harder I tried, the worse I got, literally.

MY GRE scores over 3 years, I guess I’m not good at math.

FACING MY FAILURES

By that third dialed attempt, whatever sliver of hope I had to pursue a career in the US had evaporated. I had reached rock bottom. Around that time, I was working part-time in a call center to make ends meet. It occurred to me that not once during those 3 years did I take a step back and question my motives. Why did I want to go back to the US? Why did I fail to stay there in the first place? Did I have an actual interest in pursuing a Ph.D.? No, it was a means to an end, I was merely using Process of Elimination to go back. Eventually, through talking with some of my co-workers, I managed to look at things more objectively. I allowed myself to let go of all the guilt I was carrying. During this period of introspection, I remember thinking about a conversation I had with my then-girlfriend. It took place a few months before it became apparent that my days in the US were numbered. For some reason, this conversation stuck with me. Sensing that something was wrong, she hinted at my lack of motivation, which led to a long discussion about our respective vision for our careers. Defensively, I explained that I did not want to commit to something because I had to be really passionate about it first. After all, whatever it was, I was going to do it for the rest of my life. For her, I was overthinking: your job is a means to earn a living, and real life is what happens outside of your cubicle. Beggars can’t be choosers and I was being a choosy beggar.

WHAT IS YOUR IKIGAI?

You’ve probably come across this Venn diagram. It illustrates the Japanese concept of “Ikigai”, a word that essentially means "a motivating force; something or someone that gives a person a sense of purpose or a reason for living". I like to think of it as the joie-de-vivre derived from one’s work. The diagram is taken from a book called Ikigai: The Japanese Secret to a Long and Happy Life by Héctor García and Francesc Miralles. When I recall this conversation with my ex, I’m reminded of this diagram.

It has its shortcomings but I think it’s a solid framework to consider your own career. Think about how you would rank these four categories by order of importance. Based on that ranking, you should be able to picture circles of different sizes, with different overlapping areas. Now, if you add the variable of time into the mix, the size of each circle will likely change over time. Perhaps—as you grow older and more altruistic—“that which the world needs” will overtake some of the other categories. I think that many of my failures arose from being too much of a romantic: “that which you love” was the lens through which I was looking at the world, “that which you’re good at” was a distant second.

YOUR CAREER IS MUCH LIKE AN (ARRANGED) MARRIAGE

Although I was born and raised in France, I was raised by a single mom from Laos –a refugee of the Vietnam war. In her culture, arranged marriages are still commonplace. Growing up, we did not talk about it but my siblings and I knew that she would not try to impose this tradition on us. We were too westernized (and so was she). However, there’s a part of me that understands and even respects that tradition. If you look at the US or France, it’s common knowledge that about 50% of marriages end in divorce.

In countries like India, China, or Laos, arranged marriages are commonplace, yet the divorce rate is much lower than in Western societies. Obviously, I’m not suggesting arranged marriages are better and I’m aware that these lower divorce rates can be explained by a multitude of factors, chief among them is appalling track records on women’s rights in these countries. But I think there is something to be said about why arranged marriages seem to work in these cultures. It’s best encapsulated by a Canadian comedian named Russel Peters in one of his skits. He talks about how weird it is for a second-generation Indian like him to have his mom try to find a wife for him. He mentions an instance in which his mom brings a girl home so they could be introduced and she says: “I know she’s a little big now, but you’ll grow into her”.

As funny as this may sound, this statement highlights a major cultural difference, one that extends to the professional world. In the West, we tend to emphasize this idea of ‘passion’, we have romanticized this concept, almost to the expanse of hard work. In Asia, I think the opposite is true. The onus is on hard work and the belief is that you’ll grow to love what you do. It’s no secret that Asians in US universities are predominantly found in medicine, engineering, and computer science. You’re unlikely to find many in Art school.

FINDING MY IKIGAI

After failing multiple times, after a self-imposed, much-needed introspection, I came to the conclusion that my Ikigai was writing. There was no Eureka moment, but as the fog of guilt slowly lifted, I was able to see things with much more clarity. I realized I was good at languages and could monetize that skill, and that being a translator would bring me one step closer to my goal. I might never be able to make a living out of writing but I sure was going to give it my best shot.

PROCRASTINATION, THE THIEF OF TIME

Inside, I was scared. Fear of failure is a powerful thing. I always found excuses. I’m not ready, I thought. I listened to that voice in my head saying “you’re not good enough”. First, you must learn more about it, so instead of actually writing, I would read about how to write, or listen to people talk about the craft. As Bruce Lee would say: “Don’t think, feel”.

MY ONE PIECE OF ADVICE

I hope you can look at this diagram and think: “I have it pretty good right now.” If that’s the case, more power to you. For those of you who still struggle to find something they love, who like me erred for many years, here’s my advice: A failure only becomes a lesson learned if you are able to forgive yourself for it. Owning one’s mistakes is hard, but if you do, it gets easier from there. You just have to keep at it.

Even then, you have to be realistic. In the words of Stephen King: “[…] while it is impossible to make a competent writer out of a bad writer, and while it is equally impossible to make a great writer out of a good one, it is possible, with lots of hard work, dedication, and timely help, to make a good writer out of a merely competent one.”

So I’m going to commit to blogging every week. My hope is that if anyone reads this, they won’t be too prompt to stamp me as a “bad writer”. Either way, I’m going to keep at it and see where it takes me. Wherever you are in your career, whether you feel fulfilled or whether you’re still figuring things out, I wish you the best.