As I held the Tibetan singing bowl last night before sleeping, the vibration silenced the gnawing question that had been haunting me daily since last year.
What would you like to be when you grow up?
The thing is, I'm already a grown-up and am on the mid-life train as well.
It was so much easier to answer that question as a child. Possibilities were endless. The voice of my 5yo cousin then echoed, "I want to be a cook!" Another friend chimed in, " I want to be an ironing lady." It didn't matter what it was but the answers came out nonetheless.
I discovered an enthusiasm and excited curiosity the first time I saw a blueprint when I was 5. I pulled out a chair, tiptoed, and grabbed the rolls of ammonia-smelling paper from the top cabinet shelf. I started learning how to decipher the symbols, how spaces worked together, and learned how to read plans on my own.
I loved learning anything related to making things beautiful so when I was thirteen, my Mom enrolled me in a fashion design course every summer since I had been doing the fashion sketches for her in her side hustle. Her motive was to nudge me towards that direction, setting me up to work with her in the future.
I was the youngest in this vocational class. My classmates were all older in their early 20s and above and I enjoyed every minute with them. We spent late afternoons at the business district after classes, checking out boutiques while hunting for fabric samples together.
The pinnacle moments in these four-year summer classes were;
- When my fashion design teacher read my mind and generously spilled the truth, "You, my dear, have no business in fashion."
- Another was when a watercolor perspective drawing hanging on the walls stopped me in my tracks. I peeked inside the room of interior design students with my half-eaten sandwich, with this intense desire of joining them.
- When my fine-art class teacher privately talked to me one day saying, "You seem to have an eye for balance and perspective, have you given architecture a thought?"
And so I did. I pursued two majors in two different universities within five years. I took architecture from June to March in a bigger university and Interior Design in another school from March to June. There were weeks when classes overlapped. It was tricky yet exciting juggling both.
My early 20s were spent hustling. Every time I applied for a designer desk job, I was told, I didn't look the part. I was always thrown into sales or something related to business.
Rejections after rejections, I found my way in, closest to a design job even with a meager salary. To make ends meet, I accepted side hustles from rich students by doing their school projects and thesis.
Life offered more sales and marketing positions, still related to interior design. Instead of sitting in a cubicle in front of a computer which I would have loved more than anything, I was sent out there managing clients selling designs and making sure the project was completed.
My introverted self was drained but what I loved about that role was the fulfillment of seeing the client happy at the end of the day and being at the forefront of witnessing the drawings take shape.
It felt like jumping from one moving platform after another until I found the dream job where I was given not only a chance to present the design myself but that the design was my own.
Then motherhood happened.
At the time, management changes and financial difficulties at a design firm in Dubai prompted me to quit my job and focus on being a mom. After four months at home, I was already itching to get back to work.
While feeding my daughter during an interview, I was hired as a designer in an up-and-coming boutique design studio in Dubai.
Around this time, my husband wanted to move back to the Philippines to pursue his dream which was followed by an inevitable situation that landed us right back home.
Lately, I have been thinking about a random encounter during an errand many years ago.
One morning, I was in front of a Marks and Spencers store in Dubai waiting for the roll-up shutter to open. I had my 4-month-old baby sleeping on my chest in a baby carrier, in the hopes that I can make it in real quick and complete the grocery shopping before she woke up.
An elegant-looking mother stood next to me and took an interest in my sleeping baby. Her eyes lit up as she scrolled through her phone as she proudly showed me pictures of her children and grandchildren.
There was something that she said to me however that I'd never forget, Her tone changed, and said, "Whatever you do, don't be a stay-at-home Mom like me. I am proud of my kids and love them very much but please don't stop working."
That memory stayed with me. Despite her words of wisdom, I decided to take a step back to focus on my daughter and supported my husband in his plans.
What if I had listened to her advice, stayed back in Dubai, and pursued the job offer. Would I be happier? Will that stop me from feeling this hopelessness and pressure that time is running out?
Ignoring that advice, I set aside my professional life to focus on being a homemaker in the Philippines for the last seven years. I did projects on the side which gave me joy up until last year when I worked online with an international design firm as a freelancer.
I didn't realize that being so far away for 7 years was a major setback. That being so isolated working online is a different ball game. I completely forgot about the corporate politics, the stress of micromanagement and the white lies made to protect one's position and appear in control of everything.
The design trends and the way everyone worked had also changed. It was a humbling experience and being demotivated by it all was an understatement.
It was an ice-cold-water-thrown-in-your-face kind of situation. I hated myself for being so naive and idealistic and after many years of living peacefully, I failed at keeping appearances and sucked at the corporate game.
As much as I am grateful for that opportunity, it led to complete burnout. It doused the passion I had for the design craft. I abandoned anything to do with the field. I unsubscribed to anything that was related to it. It made me question my forty years of existence.
Was the first moment I tiptoed to grab the rolled-up plans unreal?
Was the thirty-plus years of chasing the carrot a wasted time?
Why did I have to go through all of that only to find where I am now?
What was the point of it all?
There was a rough idea before at least, a road map of where I was headed.
Nowadays, I have none. Am I on the wrong path? If yes, then what?
I suppose this is what existential crisis is about?
I asked for a sign and not long after came numerous possibilities. A condo unit project knocked on my door, a colleague based in Switzerland offered to provide more work, a former colleague now based in Bangladesh asked me to help her with a design concept and two other design opportunities sprung up.
The problem was, I was so burned out, I was left staring at the screen unable to design. The self-confidence in my own capacity whatever was left of it disappeared. There were days I just wanted to crawl up in a hole and disappear.
The whole experience revealed that I had a lot to work out within. I spent the entirety of last year doing inner work and clearing all of the baggage.
I had been stripped raw. I feel like an old compass that keeps turning around that had lost its bearings.
There was this song by Ahi called Until You that struck me which I wanted to share with you here.
"Everything I've lost is all I've got. There ain't much I can give but I'll give you everything. Anything you had, you gave me half. When I was living with nothing, you helped me believe in something."
It is a beautiful song and the words felt like a perfectly articulated conversation with the self that I needed to hear.
Lost, I continued writing this post with no agenda but as a desperate attempt to organize my thoughts and put the pieces together.
Just then my 7-year old daughter and her friend stopped me from typing a few moments ago.
She asked me a question that could only be answered by showing them baby photographs and videos of my daughter. A well of memories inside folders I didn't know I had which I thought were gone forever when our hard drive crashed.
For the next 30 minutes, we watched the videos with laughter and listened to stories Anais was happy to tell. It reminded me why I had made that decision seven years ago and her loving smile reassured me I am on the right track.
I recently took on a friend's project to help out re-design his typhoon-damaged house. It took me weeks before I could put something on paper. Drawing it felt like starting to walk again in crutches.
Here I am staring at my husband and daughter watching the heavy rain from the main door while drenched children ran outside playing in the deep puddles.
Slowly, I am re-discovering the little girl who stared at the floor plans. The little kid who stands by what she believes in. For now, I'll follow the breadcrumbs of joy to find my way.
This is my first blog post in the community. What's your story? Have you found yours? What were the turning points and pinnacle moments that guided you? How did you know that you're on the right track?
Thank you for reading.
P.S. The images above were taken during nature hikes with my daughter while we were on a long stay in France before moving to the Philippines.
"I am an old soul who simply loves coffee, who finds joy and beauty in both tangible and the unseen."
Curiosity and imagination lead to unexpected experiences. Interested in Nature, Places, Roads Less Traveled, Minimalism, Authentic Living, Anything French, and International Cuisine. Feel free to follow her, re-blog, and upvote if you enjoy her content.