When I Grow Up...
... I Want To Do, Not Be
Image: Girl At Writing Desk, Frederick Carl Frieseke
Courtesy of Artvee
When I was a child, what I wanted to be when I grew up varied on a yearly basis. I went from wanting to become a singer, to believing that to teach was my calling, to being fascinated by the pretty cashiers in the shops I accompanied my mum to and wanting to work in retail, to dreaming of a life as a solicitor (Thank you, Ally McBeal!), to fantasies of flourishing as a famous novelist, to aspirations of studying to be an art historian, a journalist, a fashion critic – the list goes on and on.
Some of those ideas I look back on today and can’t help but smile at the loftiness they implied… But it's also evident that each of those early career objectives reflect a part of who I am, what I love, and what I’m passionate about.
I am an avid music fan but lack any real musical talent, so that becoming a singer was definitely no more than wishful thinking.
I carry a deep appreciation for the exchange and sharing of knowledge.
I love a good shopping experience and respect the people who work to realise it.
I am vehement about fairness and justice.
I can’t put into words the impact art in all its forms has on my life.
I am studious, critical, and pride myself on being well-informed.
I am an absolute fashion fiend…
And, to this day, writing is the most cathartic, therapeutic activity there is for me.
The dream of becoming a writer was actually the career goal that stuck through all the years - the one that continuously triggered this sense of excitement, achievability, and knowing that it’s what’s meant for me.
I wrote throughout my childhood, youth, and even as an adult, but I ended up making a living working in a corporate job that managed to drain the life out of me by the time I reached my mid-30s. When I finally grew up, year for year, I watched my dream(s) die…
A little over a year ago, after enduring multiple complicated illnesses as well as a lengthy and painful recovery from injuries I sustained in a car accident, I finally followed the call to resign from the job that felt like a prison and leave my home country indefinitely. Years of feeling trapped in a life that didn’t align with my values and true self had induced a numbness inside that I sought to relieve by allowing myself to be reminded of and indulging in the things that lit me up and made me feel alive.
I attempted to resuscitate the dreams I had watched perish over the years and began writing again. While it provided an outlet and I was so proud of what I wrote that I even felt inclined to share it (hence, why I created the space here on Substack), I soon felt doubt set in again – that little voice in the back of my mind that whispered to me when I permitted myself to dream big and trust in my talent, telling me to be realistic and to focus on setting sustainable (career) goals for myself because it’s presumptious to believe I could be a ‘real’ writer.
That little voice in combination with the time and effort I was putting into new vocational and personal aspirations I harboured (which included relocating permanently) thwarted my attempts to awaken my dreams back to life and I pretty much let them fall into a coma once more. I couldn’t be everything I wanted to be and essentially, life is about prioritising and sometimes making sacrifices accordingly.
A couple of weeks ago, I came across a quote from the British entertainer, Stephen Fry, that I found years ago and kept saved in my journal, but had all but completely forgotten since. In this quote, Stephen Fry himself references a statement Oscar Wilde once made:
“(…) If you know what you want to be, then you inevitably become it – that is your punishment, but if you never know, then you can be anything. There is a truth to that. We are not nouns, we are verbs. I am not a thing – an actor, a writer – I am a person who does things – I write, I act – and I never know what I am going to do next. I think you can be imprisoned if you think of yourself as a noun”…
It seemed almost synchronistic that this quote emerged anew after all this time because the idea of starting to write again had begun to tug at my soul once more. I also gained subscribers out of nowhere here on Substack, which surprised me, since I hadn’t really proven consistent with publishing content.
I interpreted both as a sign to take Stephen Fry’s/Oscar Wilde’s advice... I will no longer make it my aim to be a certain thing but to do what it is I want to do – what brings me joy, what sparks a light within me. While that does encompass the more conventional pursuits I have been working to achieve and intend to accomplish, I choose to no longer define myself and my path in such definite terms.
I’ve come to the realisation that “when I grow up”, I don’t want to primarily be something, I want to do – and, most importantly, not worry so much about the outcome of what I’m doing and instead let the amount of fun I’m having and the positive energy it evokes be the curve by which I measure my success. I believe that if we let ourselves flow and evolve in a natural way and be carried and motivated by our passions as we do so, triumph is inevitable.
So, these are my stories – some personal, some purely observational, some witty, some sullen, all from the heart… May they serve and/or inspire anyone who feels called to read them!
See you soon ♥️



Bold of you to step out of your comfort zone (good occupation) and follow your dreams!
This resonated with me so much!