Yesterday in Cary Tennis’ advice column in Salon.com, he doled out some wisdom to a tormented soon-to-be law student. Or maybe not. In her letter, “Terrified” has this to say:
With every day that passes, I am fighting a rising sense of utter panic. I don’t know if I want to do this. I have been working my whole life toward this moment… all with my eye on the prize of admission to law school and an eventual J.D. My father is a lawyer and since I was a little girl I have dreamed about following in his footsteps. The problem, I think, is that law school has been my goal for so long that I’ve never really stopped to examine it, and now I’m afraid that it’s way too late to change my mind… Despite the fact that my dad and I are very similar people, he never had experiences like mine. My priorities are just… well, different. He graduated from a state law school and has practiced in his home state ever since. I am a mover; I yearn to go; I don’t want to stay in one place and work myself to the bone… When I think about being a lawyer, I panic. In my heart I’ve always wanted to be a writer.
My heart bleeds for the girl—maybe because I’ve been there. Haven’t we all? That unpleasant place where it feels as though you’re on cruise control, being driven by inertia, watching the time go by, second-guessing every decision you’ve ever made that’s brought you to this point, and convinced that stopping the train would take strength of superhuman proportions. “Terrified” describes feeling that it’s “way too late” to change directions. I stuck on those words, let my mind ramble, and lingered on a thought: do you ever hear men talk this way? Do you think the message we as women are fed—that our stock goes down as our age goes up—makes us extra conscious of the clock, an underlying worry that seeps into everything, intensifying the pressure we feel every time we find ourselves at a crossroads? And then there’s Jack Welch’s “women can’t have it all” comment, which Barbara blogged about yesterday. It’s 2009, and still we fight that idea, even as we internalize it: if I can’t have it all, I better pick wisely. And in a hurry. The clock’s a-tickin’.
Tennis’ advice? Think happy thoughts, go to law school. You can always drop out if you change your mind.
Barbara Kelley
Shannon Kelley
I don’t think second guessing yourself and having that “grass is greener” feeling happens for women only.
I’m speaking for myself (as a man) but I have those second guess feelings as well.
Maybe men don’t speak of it because we feel more of a responsibility to be the main source of income and create a stable environment for our family. The dream option is often not practical. -and who is to say you won’t still have those feelings about what you left if you do leave.
Dreams can comfort you when things are bad. But I would bet that following that dream more often than not, leaves you in a worse spot than you started in.
Now you’re working a low paying job and your wife is pissed because she has to go out and make more money to pick up your slack so you can fulfill your dream of being a rock star…Did I just say that? I must be getting old…I’m really not as bitter as I sound!
After reading this post, and Pablo’s comment, I wonder if choices are so difficult for women because we are led to believe THEY MEAN TOO MUCH.
And so we avoid choosing? Or regret the choices we make?
Forgetting, of course, at least according to those survey numbers from Monday, that most of our career choices are destined to change, anyhow.
So maybe the question is why women think their choices are so important — and irrevocable? bk
[...] from yesterday’s brilliant take on what happens when your life unfolds just the way you had it planned — and why we get the [...]
One of the best things that happened to me was getting wait-listed at the graduate program to which I’d applied my senior year of college. I had realized during my interview visit to the program that it wasn’t what I truly wanted to do with my life and that I would just be going to please my parents. When I called to talk to the admission folks about being waitlisted, I was told that they felt I was qualified but “needed more time to mature” and that if I really wanted to go I should reapply the following year. I believe my hesitation must’ve shown through in the interview and that’s why I was not accepted.
That was 10 years ago, and my dad *STILL* sometimes asks me whether I’m going to reapply. At this point, I’ve got enough self-confidence to tell him that I’m not interested, but he still brings it up periodically.