What Do You Want to be When You Grow Up?

Yup! The dreaded question we can never seem to escape.

Once upon a time, this question was asked by every auntie and uncle who had no clue how else to engage with kids beyond inquiring about their future goals towards furthering the capitalist system. Still, this particular kid used to find the question exciting because it signalled possibilities, an array of options from which to craft her identity. Her answers ranged from Writer at the age of 6, to Geneticist at 15, Psychologist at 20, Journalist at 22, to finally Teacher and (once again) Writer at 25. Not much has changed since then, although her satisfaction with her answers (and the question that originally fuelled them) has definitely declined over time.

What do I want to be when I grow up? At 44, I’m still figuring it out.

These days, in a college essay writing class I teach to high school students, I reframe the question as: “What sparks you?” Perhaps, (if it weren’t so inappropriate at an all boys’ school) I’d reframe it further as: “What turns you on?”

I’ve come to realize it’s not the writing itself which turns me on, but the subject matter I write about. Otherwise, I would’ve been decidedly happier during my stints as a corporate copywriter in London or a concept writer for an event management company in Lahore. But I wasn’t, because I didn’t feel truly invested in the mission statements of those companies. 

So which subjects spark me? There are only really a few: Love. Human Psychology. Spirituality. Connection. Love. Belonging. Relationships. Beauty. Love. Storytelling. Literature. Art and culture.

Oh, and did I mention, Love?

Imagine a 12-year-old me telling my aunties and uncles, “When I grow up, I want to be a Lover. I want to write poems and stories and essays about love and beauty. I want to revel in the oneness of our humanity.”

I’m pretty sure their jaws would have dropped in the face of such a precocious, idealistic child with no concept of how antithetical her answer was to the scarcity model perpetuated by the capitalist machine. 

To be honest, it’s just as challenging for me to say this today. Societal conditioning doesn’t wash off so easily, and to some extent, I feel I still need it to protect me, as a lover existing in a world hell-bent on leeching itself of all love. 

Sometimes I can’t tell if I’m a naive idealist or a jaded nihilist. Both personas wrestle within me – the Grinch stealthily stealing my spark in the dark of night, only to have Princess Eros ultimately rescue and restore it. It would be so much more peaceful in my subconscious if only one of them could commit to being in charge. But they are both moody and…well…lonely. Maybe they need the constant battle. Maybe the spark is a result of the electric tension between them. Go figure. Two quarreling lovers existing within the self-created professional role of a Lover. It seems office politics are inescapable, no matter the career.

The Grinch is quite convincing actually, with his fashionable cynicism, overconfident know-it-all-ness, and ability to wither me down to size with his condescending glare. The Grinch has spent a lifetime being a naysayer, and I see, within him, reflections of my mother, my teachers, my bosses, media and news personalities, and society at large. We are a world that loves to hate on ourselves.

Princess Eros, on the other hand, is all innocent vulnerability and sexy inner strength. She is a powerful matriarch in a world of patriarchs. A rebel lover in a loveless world. Do you see why every instinct of my conditioned self conspires against her? She is a dangerous woman. Saying things about surrender and submission that sound decidedly unfeminist, unless you understand what she’s actually submitting to. She frames the world in abundance because she can. Because she knows that how we frame our world is one of the only things we’re able to control. So it’s important that we do it in the best way possible, highlighting the beauty and blessings that most people have lost sight of.

In a world where being black and white is glamorized, dare to be raunchy red. Rebellious red. Regal red. Or pink or blue or green or purple. Dare to live boldly, because you know everything exists for you in abundance. Dare to believe in a free world where you actually desire to live, as if every day was a celebration, rather than a world you’ve been taught to limit yourself for because there is always a lack of space, time, and resources. Dare to be a child in a grown-up body who treats work as if it was play and rest as if it was a priority.

Wow, that’s a pretty privileged point of view, wouldn’t you say?

Ignore the Grinch. He’ll say anything to deflate me. I AM a Princess. I come from privilege. And that privilege stems from my capacity to breathe. If you’re alive in this moment, you have that privilege, too. Everything else is clay for the molding.

I’ll let you have this one, princess. Clearly, you’re trying to impress your readers. Plus, you’re cute when you’re passionate. But cuteness will only take you so far.

Grinchy, you’re pretty cute too, when you’re not acting like a jackass. But don’t mistake my “cute” passion for passivity. I dare you to face off with me in battle. 

Hmmm…come to think of it, Grinchy sounds like a blended version of (my previously described personas of) Depression, Inner Pessimist, Inner Critic, and Narrator. Goodness, how many hues does the darkness within me hold? It seems I love diversity in the workplace, too. For every positive persona, there is just the right shade of opposition to maintain balance. My subconscious has never been more alive and yet battle hungry. You can just imagine, the office parties here range from toxic to Temptation Island, like an adult version of Inside Out characters gone wild.

But I digress. 

Is it possible to make a career out of Love? To have a burning ambition to connect with people and make them feel like they belong? Teacher, healer, writer – these roles feel most closely aligned. But we wouldn’t take these professionals seriously unless they’d studied extensively within their respective fields and achieved some level of qualification by a legitimized authority, one which has been given the authority to legitimize us. What about all my inner knowing? My intuition? The accumulated wisdom of my ancestors stored deep within my bones? Who is authorized to legitimize my use of these? 

I guess Substack readers are as good a group as any to start off with!

I don’t intend to craft a conclusion, to tie this post up in a pretty bow before pressing publish. There is no conclusion because it’s an ongoing conversation, both within me, amongst all my personas, and between us, me and you, my precious reader. I need your help here. 

How much of your time and attention (and let’s not forget money) would you be willing to give to a professional who identifies as Love? In our survival of the fittest world, what other avenues exist where such a person could contribute her skills (to love, to reflect, to write)? How do you turn who you are into what you want to be when you grow up? Do I turn Nida into Nida Inc Pvt Ltd? And if I do, do you think my (lack of) business savvy is where my spark will eventually go to die? 

All I know is, I refuse to let Grinchy win and utter the dreaded, “I told you so.” Will you help me find a way to beat him?