I spent most of my life thinking I was just one accomplishment away from figuring out my purpose on this planet. I just needed to do the things and voila, I would feel fulfilled. In that pursuit, I made many plans. Early on, I believed I could be a University of North Carolina basketball player. That quickly fizzled when I found out people could buy their way on to basketball teams in high school. I was a justice centered kid. That wasn’t going to work for me. 

Next, I wanted to be a doctor. That felt like a noble cause and one worth spending my life pursuing. My mom, in true first-generation American form, also really liked the idea. She immediately invested in the places and education I might need to go down the path. For a woman who wouldn’t waste an extra 15 cents on ketchup most of the time, this was a big deal. She sent me to a pre-med summer camp where I found out that you can fail out of school at 7 different points. I did not like failure or standardized tests. Medical school was out of the question. I was 13 and I had already been through two dreams. 

At that point, I started to crave more reliable options. My mom joined the military in the 80s because it was the one job she knew wouldn’t have layoffs. I almost joined for the same reason 20 years later. But my mom was not having it. I still remember the day that military recruiter called. She picked up the phone from another room at the same time as I did, then sternly told me to put the phone down. I didn’t. When she thought I hung up, she told them never to call again. I sat stunned on the other end of the line with my hand over the receiver hoping she wouldn’t hear me. Years later she told me it’s because she knew I was gay and would never be accepted in the military. 

I went to college with no clear path of where I wanted to end up. I didn’t even visit the campus before I moved in. I didn’t care. I was doing what I thought I was supposed to do. Graduated and got a job with the same careless approach. I had absolutely no idea what I liked besides having enough money to eat. Over the years, I rediscovered my early love of writing. I tried to find jobs where I could do that most of the time. I told myself purpose was coming. 

A few years into Three Ears Media, I panicked because I felt like I still didn’t know my purpose. On paper, I was doing everything right. I checked all the boxes, but I still felt empty. I hired a business coach that eventually asked me, “what would be enough?”  It made my stomach ache instantly to process her words. I didn’t have an answer. I had no idea what I would have to do to feel like I was doing enough or fulfilling my purpose. 

Some day soon after that, I made a choice to pursue getting to know myself over the accomplishments. It started with a list of the work I was doing when I was happy. Going outside. Writing stuff no one would read. Helping others. Trying new things. It started with my real life, writing stuff for no one and reading my poems at open mic nights. Then, I gave myself permission to apply that thinking to my work. I wrote a book that has nothing to do with work. I started speaking to groups outside the world of recruiting about resilience and real life. I got to be the first person that made many parents believe their trans kid might be ok in the world of work. 

In this daily practice of learning who I am, I live my purpose by showing up fully. Turns out, there’s not some grand plan or finish line. There’s no title, award, proposal, or anything else that will help me feel like I’ve accomplished everything I want to do with my life. So I’m not chasing them any more. I can never do enough. But doing isn’t the point.

In the same ways I know how my best friend doesn’t want onions on her cheeseburger, I choose to know myself. My quirks. What I like and what I don’t. To slow down long enough when things feel beautiful to notice. To give myself permission to seek more of that in everything I do. To change my mind when it doesn’t feel beautiful any more. In the abandonment of accomplishment, I find purpose in becoming the most loving, kind version of me - whatever path I take.