Finding Myself Overseas

Hello, my name is Natalie and I have no idea what I want to do with my life.

“Hello, Natalie,” the 3,893,744,109 members of IHNIWIWTDWML Anonymous responded.

“My parents kept pressuring me,” Natalie continued, “And so I called my friends at the Psychic Network for some help. For only $59.99, Miss Cleo told me I’d make a great mortician. I gave it a shot — not my thing so much. I went to a palm reader and according to the fifth indentation of the third line on my pinky finger, it was in my fate to work at the Tootsie Roll factory. After a stint in accounting and some time with Antarctic penguins, I stand before you today, admitting that I still have no idea what the hell I want to do with my life”

That’s right, some 3 billion people haven’t figured out what they want to be when they grow up. On the plus side, I’d say it’s pretty sweet to know that we’re not alone. As someone who has been through the quarter-life, existential “why am I here” crisis, I speak from experience when I say the answer isn’t going to fall into your lap. You have to actively seek out answers and experience life to assemble the puzzle. I didn’t know whether I wanted to be a lawyer or a snake charmer, but I did know that I wanted to learn Italian at some point. I studied abroad in Italy my junior year and in those six months I encountered a whole new way of life. I lived in Verona, which was perfect because it was big enough to have an urban atmosphere but small enough that I didn’t feel lost. Plus it’s the site of Shakespeare’s star-crossed Romeo and Juliet (please don’t ask about finding my Romeo — another story for another day). I stayed in an apartment (across the street from a CASTLE!) with another American & two students from England and we studied at a school specifically designed for foreigners. I discovered interests that I didn’t know I had: photography, Italian cinema, cooking, and most importantly — writing. I’d never used the Hello Kitty diary I got for my seventh birthday, I dreaded writing papers, and couldn’t be bothered to attempt the blogging bit. But not wanting to forget anything, I started keeping a travel journal. I suddenly realized that I did in fact love to write — especially when it came to my favorite subject: me. When I got back I enrolled in various writing courses and I knew I’d found my match. I had always treated writing as a forced activity but in the new light of being creative or personal, it became a passion as opposed to a chore. I’m now working towards translating the passion into a career.

Would I have discovered this interest without Italian intervention? Probably, but who knows when. The point is, don’t feel abnormal because you were elected president of IHNIWIWTDWML Anonymous. The worst thing to do is sit around whining about it and the best is to go out there and actively try to figure it out with the rest of us. Do something big. Study abroad — if it worked for me, there’s hope for you.