“Whatever you do Danica, make sure you don’t float through life.”
This is a phrase my Dad has repeated countless times throughout my 24 years. I guess you could say it has been his attempt to bestow some fatherly wisdom, encouraging his children to engage intentionally with the world. As I currently find myself in a stage of limbo, reluctant to let go but desperate to move forward, I have started to consider the meaning behind his words. The truth is I’ve been floating for a while now. Further and further away from the things I know to be true and the person I used to be. In a way, this is a good thing. I never really liked that old version of myself very much anyways. But on the other hand, I can’t deny that I still find the unknown to be nothing short of terrifying. I don’t recognize where I am anymore, and I’m not sure what’s scarier — how I ended up here or where I’m supposed to go next?
There is something about being by the water that feels both inspiring and frightening. The best things in life are often a good mix of both. I first experienced this contradiction at five years old, when my mom signed me up for swimming lessons at the YMCA. Throughout the process of learning how to swim, I don’t remember being afraid. Swimming came naturally for me and I learned to enjoy the weekly lessons. I was always able to see the edge of the pool. I knew how to get out of the water. I was told which direction to swim. There wasn’t a whole lot to be scared of. The risk of sinking was minimized.
When you’re young you accept things as they are. You don’t know any better. You lack the perspective that can only be achieved through various life experiences. The perspective that comes from falling on your ass and learning how to get back up. As a kid, your whole world is kind of like that community center pool — littered with floaties, surrounded by watchful eyes, filled with chlorine. For years you are sheltered. Everything is done with the goal in mind of keeping your environment safe. Keeping your head above the water. You don’t have the freedom to fail. But then, before you know it, you’re all grown up, and face the stark reality that no one is coming to save you. The fate of your life lies in your own hands, whether you like it or not.
Recently, I experienced that grown up feeling you get when you go back and visit a place you’d spent a lot of time as a kid. Somewhere that once felt huge and exciting became relatively small and mundane. You, yourself, are physically larger, but your mind also grew in tandem with your body. Learning and expanding and comprehending. The pool suddenly doesn’t feel as great or as big as it used to because now you know what it’s like to swim in the ocean.
I have lived the majority of my life with purpose and a strong sense of self. That said, I never really thought twice about what my Dad’s words represented. I didn’t need advice when it came to living intentionally. I was constantly working towards what I thought I wanted. I was born with a competitive spark; a little voice inside my head that relentlessly reminded me that losing or failing wasn’t an option. That voice urged me to keep going until I accomplished what people said I couldn’t. Not only did I love proving them wrong, I loved challenging my own limiting beliefs regarding what I was capable of.
In my late teenage years, when adolescence began fading by the day, I learned that the freedom of choice went hand in hand with the pressure of making decisions. Suddenly, I was engulfed by adulthood, a new world where responsibility met limitless possibility. I didn’t stop to question what would make me happy because the plan was in place for as long as I could remember. Doing what everyone else deemed responsible and respectable was undoubtedly best for my future, right? I would submit the perfect application, get into the best program at the best university, join all the clubs, find an internship, study abroad, land a better internship, graduate with the honours degree, sign a contract for a high paying job, move downtown Toronto, and start working my way up in the world. I had it all figured out!
Or so I thought…
When graduation came around, I did not anticipate the internal battle I was about to undergo. I took one hard look at myself, my life, and realized that I was extremely unhappy. For a very long time, I believed that stress went hand and hand with achievement, and so, my mental and physical health became the currency I traded to feel worthy. The future was supposed to feel exciting, yet I felt nothing but trapped. Stuck. Lost. Confused. All those buzz words us 20 somethings throw around nowadays. A pandemic of career uncertainty has infected this generation. But how did this happen? How could I be this person? What do you mean I have no job lined up and no idea what to do next? They tell you about all the people who end up changing their minds and pursuing something completely different from their degree. But never in a million years did I think I would be in that position.
Coming to terms with that uncertainty was by far the biggest hurdle of my early 20s. The paralyzing fear of failure, intertwined with my deeply rooted desire to fit in, held me back in more ways than I was willing to recognize. When I finally had the courage to admit that I was on the wrong path, I felt like I had spent years swimming towards someone else’s dream. And I was exhausted. Turns out trying to conform to an idea of what you think you should be is kind of like treading water — working at something without actually moving forward. What I didn’t realize back then is that success looks different to everyone.
If you don’t take the time to create your own definition and get to know what makes you happy, can you really call your life your own?
Over the past year of contemplating what to do next and where to go from here, I have come to the conclusion that it is better to dive in and risk failing, than to remain stagnant, floating in the same place for an extended period of time. We live in a world that judges people for trying, labeling them as “cringy” or “unrealistic.” But why? I think the very act of trying – swimming towards something that you love – adds more value to your life than keeping to the safety of the shore. Just think about how boring that would be. Why hang around people who judge you, people who are too afraid to try themselves, when you have the opportunity to experience all that is out there? And I don’t necessarily mean to travel and explore the world, although I think that helps. I mean to experience the various facets of what and who you are capable of being within this world. All of the wonderful things that make you, you.
Throughout the process of reflecting and writing this very post, I no longer believe that floating is the neutral option. Truthfully, I think it is quite dangerous to remain stagnant. To merely drift with the current is to take a passive seat and let someone else choose the destination. It is a disservice to yourself and the gift you have been given. Lack of movement breeds regret, and in my opinion, existing below your capacity and potential, is a fate worse than failure. Yes, failing is painful, but there are lessons to be learned that propel you forward, that help you grow. Eventually, with a little practice and passion, you figure out how to keep your head above the water when the waves are crashing all around. What I’ve neglected to remember is that I have always been a really good swimmer. And what I know now is that I didn’t fail. I just woke up. I had the courage to choose joy. And I sincerely hope you do the same.
With love,
Danica xx
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