I never knew what I wanted to be when I grew up.
I was a good kid. Other than typical teenage rebellion, I never really got into trouble. I had good grades in high school, stayed away from drugs, and went to college after I graduated. I went to college not because I had a desire to be anything in particular, but because I wanted to get out of the house and exert my new found independence.
Enter freshman year. Freedom. Suddenly I could do what I wanted, when I wanted, without answering to my parents. This often meant partying on Thursday nights and missing my Friday classes. Life was good, or so I thought. I received a letter after my first semester stating that my GPA was 1.8, and was on academic probation. I was in danger of losing my opportunity for a higher education. I didn’t even know that was possible.
Thankfully, I dug deep and pulled it together. I majored in communications, pulled my grades up, and graduated. With four years of higher education under my belt and degree in hand, I was off to make a life.
I still didn’t know what I wanted to be when I grew up.