At the time, I’d also been hosting a radio show for the Martha Stewart brand on Sirius XM. Not long after, that got cancelled too. On the day of my last show, I got onto the elevator at the 36th floor, and as it started to drop, I began to cry. Every floor took me further from what I had been: a magazine editor, a radio host, the person with the cool job to talk about at parties. You know. And honestly, I had no idea what I was going to do. And quite frankly, no one was looking for me.
So, I did what anyone would do in that situation. I started making some phone calls: “Hey, what are you up to? Did I mention I’m available?” I needed to get paid to do something, right? I mean, I live in New York City. If you’re not getting paid, you won’t last long there.
But this idea that I had to know what I was supposed to do next really bugged me. It’s this dangerously limiting idea at the heart of everything we believe about success and life in general. The idea that you have one singular passion and your job is to find it and pursue it to the exclusion of all else. And if you don’t, you’ve failed.
The pressure starts early in life and follows you through. It’s perhaps most pronounced when you graduate from school, right? It’s like, “Wow, the world’s at your feet! What are you going to do now?” It’s so intimidating, like picking a major for life. You know, I had a hard enough time picking a major for four years, and I changed it once, if not twice. It was just daunting, right?
This compelling cultural imperative to choose your passion—it stressed me out. And it’s not just me; everyone I talk to agrees. The woman who sold me this dress, I told her what I needed it for, what I was talking about, and she said, “Oh my gosh, I really need to hear this talk, because I just graduated from school. My friends and I, we don’t know what we’re passionate about, we don’t know what we’re supposed to do.”
I’m wary of passion for a few reasons. One of them is that passion is not a plan, it’s a feeling. And feelings change. They do. You can be passionate about a person one day, a job, and then not passionate the next. We know this, and yet we continue to use passion as the yardstick to judge everything by. Instead, we should see passion for what it really is: the fire that ignites when you start rubbing sticks together.
Anyway, I was such a mess in my twenties—so anxious and depressed, no life to speak of. I was temping to keep my options open, sitting around at night in my underwear watching Seinfeld reruns. Actually, I still do that sometimes. It’s not the worst thing in the world to do. It’s fine.
But I called my mother every night, crying, and I was turning away perfectly good full-time jobs. Why? Because I was afraid. I was sure that if I picked the wrong one, I’d get on the wrong train headed to the wrong future. My mother begged me, she said, “Please, take a job, any job. You’re not going to be stuck; you’re stuck now! You don’t create your life first and then live it. You create it by living it, not agonizing about it.”
She was right. She’s always right. So, I took a full-time job as an assistant at a management consulting firm, where I knew nothing about nothing. Okay, zero. Except I knew I had a reason to get up in the morning, get showered, leave the house, people who were waiting for me when I got there, and I got a paycheck every two weeks. And that is as good a reason to take a job as any.
Did I know that I wanted to be an office administrator for the rest of my life? No! I had no idea! Truly! But this idea that everything you’re supposed to do should fit into this passion vertical is unrealistic. And I’ll say it—elitist.
You show me someone who washes windows for a living, and I’ll bet you a million dollars it’s not because he has a passion for clean glass. One of my favorite columns is by Dilbert creator Scott Adams. He wrote a piece in The Wall Street Journal a few years ago about how he failed his way to success. One of his jobs was as a commercial loan officer, and he was taught specifically: “Do not loan money to someone following their passion.” No, loan it to someone who wants to start a business—the more boring, the better.
Adams says that in his life, success fueled passion more than passion fueled success. When I got my first job as a magazine editor in publishing, I was thrilled. But I had to take a pretty big pay cut because at the time, I’d been a catalog copywriter at a wig company. Laugh if you will, many people did. But wigs paid.
So, I had to figure out a way to make some money. A friend of mine invited me to a jewelry party. I said, “What is a jewelry party?” She said, “It’s like Tupperware but with bracelets.” I said, “Okay, got it, got it.” I went and I had the best time. I was there hanging out, trying on jewelry, the salesperson was having a great time, and I thought, “That’s a job. I could… I could do that.”
I mean, really, she seemed to be having a great time. Now, I had no background in sales unless you count Girl Scouts, and I was terrible. And I had no passion for jewelry. I mean, honestly, my earrings cost $20 combined, all of them. And yet I thought, “I think I can sling silver jewelry to suburban moms drinking daiquiris. Yes, I could do that.” And so I did it. I signed up, became a Silpada Designs rep.
Listen to me, I was not setting the world on fire right away. Really, I was so awkward and afraid of selling. But then I got better. I started making some money, I started getting really passionate about it. Not just because of the money, but because I realized people wanted the stuff. They were happy to pay for it. I sold so much jewelry that year I won a free trip to Saint Thomas. It’s true.
I eventually let my jewelry business go because my career path shifted. But I was glad I did that because it planted an entrepreneurial seed I didn’t know was there. And that bears fruit to this day.
Now, as you know, an entire cottage industry has sprung up around helping people find their passions, right? Books, coaching, webinars, whatever. And their hearts are in the right place. I’m all about self-discovery. But when you ask someone, or you’re asked, “What’s your passion?” It’s triggering. It’s like, “Oh my god, I have to come up with a good answer for this.”
One of my friends in her mid-forties is looking at what her life is going to be now. She’s like, “I don’t know what I’m passionate about.” And she’s legitimately concerned about this. She’s ready to hire a team of people. It’s like, why are we worrying about this? You know why? Because she thinks there’s something wrong with her.
I thought something was wrong with me in seventh grade when everyone was really into rock bands and they would carve the names of those bands into tables in the library. And I never carved anything because I couldn’t think of anything to carve. I mean, I liked Bon Jovi as much as the next girl, but not enough to deface school property, you know? It’s probably why I don’t have any tattoos either. I’m assuming that’s why. I was really boring; I thought something was wrong with me.
But that’s the fear, isn’t it? That when someone asks you at a party, on a date, at a job interview, “What are you passionate about?” That you’re not going to have this compelling answer. And that means you’re not interesting, or ambitious, or that you don’t have a singular obsession or a scary talent that you’re hiding. And that your life isn’t worth living. And it’s not true.
Passion is not a job, a sport, or a hobby. It is the full force of your attention and energy that you give to whatever is right in front of you. And if you’re so busy looking for this passion, you could miss opportunities that change your life. You could also miss out on a great love. Because that’s what happens when you have tunnel vision, trying to find the One.
We all think we know the kind of person we are and the kind of person we could love. But sometimes we’re wrong. Blissfully wrong. And sometimes you don’t know what you’re going to do next, right? I mean, I don’t. I love not knowing what I’m going to be doing five years from now or what I’ll be into. And that’s okay. It’s okay not to know. You know why? Because the most fulfilling relationships, the most fulfilling careers are those that still have the power to surprise you.
As for the things you know you want to do—write a book, start a business, change careers—great! But if you’re sitting around waiting for passion to show up and take over, you’re going to be waiting a long time. So don’t wait. Instead, spend your time and attention solving your favorite problems. Look for problems that need solving. Be useful, be generous. People will thank you, hug you, and pay you for it. And that’s where passion is: where your energy and effort meet someone else’s need. That’s when you realize passion lives in realizing what you have to contribute.
Why do you think when we ask people what they’re passionate about, they say, “Helping other people”? So don’t wait. Listen to my mother. Just start doing. Because to live a life full of meaning and value, you don’t follow your passion; your passion follows you.