It’s hard to do something different. People don’t understand you. They don’t understand why. They don’t see how it can work. They want you to stay with the group, where they are. Where it’s safe.
In asian culture there’s this saying, “the nail that sticks out gets hammered down.” The phrase originated in Japan, but applies to any collectivist, conformist culture, a common trait of asian countries. But this pressure is felt even in some individualist cultures. A coworker from England once told me the kids in the town she grew up in often ridiculed anyone trying to get ahead, or break out of the small town life. “You think you’re better than us?”
This attitude is in stark contrast to an American saying, which is, “the squeaky wheel gets the grease!” Americans are encouraged to speak out, demand attention, and go after whatever it is that they want.
Growing up asian in the United States left me struggling between these two conflicting world views. My asian parents drilled into me to take safe, well worn paths with known rewards, while my American friends were being quite rebellious, doing their own thing.
As an adult I continue to wrestle with this. I’m a creative person, I like doing odd, unusual things. But anytime I think about doing something interesting, I also hear a voice in my head that it’s not safe. It’s dangerous. It’s unknown. It will probably fail.
For many years I worked in relatively “safe” jobs, in large corporations that had health insurance, good salaries, and even bonuses at the end of the year. That career track worked for 20 years. Until it didn’t.
I was laid off in 2023, and left with an enormous conundrum. Should I try to find another “secure” job or should I go off and do something strange? If you’ve been reading my newsletter for a while you know I’m on the strange path. But to be honest I have days where I wonder if I’m on the right path.
I’ve had recruiters reach out to me about good, secure, lucrative jobs. Jobs at companies like Apple, Meta, Google, even the company that makes Sriracha sauce! That was tempting. But for one reason or another, they didn’t work out, or I turned them down because I had to move somewhere I didn’t want to live.
The quality of life I’m enjoying right now is the highest it’s been since I was in my 20s. It’s getting harder to think about going back to corporate life, and yet I still entertain the idea.
Life often feels like a tug-of-war, but it’s you pulling on both ends, against yourself. Will you conform to the norm? Or do something different? Are you the nail that gets hammered down, or are you the squeaky wheel, demanding grease?
So here I am, trying to be brave. Trying to do what I know the universe is calling me to. Trying to navigate a hazy path where I can only see one stepping stone in front of me at a time.
I know what I want to do. I know what I need to do. I know what I’m meant to do in this next season, which is to be an Octopus. And I’m trusting that some combination of octopus tentacles will be the right mix of things that provide both financial security, enjoyment, and maximal use of my talents. A tentacle could end up being a short term consulting gig, or yes, even a full time job. Or it could be a non-commercial art project. Or ideally, all of the above.
What’s intriguing about the future is that it’s yet to be written, and every new season of life calls upon us to grow in some way. Often it’s in a way you might’ve been ignoring or even actively resisting, but your new circumstance is bringing it out of the background and into full view.
A struggle often results.
The old, comfortable, safe you is now in a tug-of-war with the new, healthier, more mature you. Some people shrink back and let the old self win. In some ways that’s the easier path. It’s familiar. It worked before. But it’s also the path of regression, of staying in a less evolved place. Your imaginative ambitions for your life will soon detach from your comfortable cocoon, causing a problematic rift that often leads to unhappiness, due to that terrible gnawing feeling that you’re living a diminished, disempowered life. Do that for years or even decades and you’re nearly guaranteed to have a mid-life crisis.
There really is only one proper path, which is to evolve and mature into your new self. Yes it will be uncomfortable. Yes it will be scary. Yes other people won’t understand. Yes it will take time. Yes you will ultimately have to change.
In other words, you must find the courage to be different.
Your new life awaits.
Dave
Dave this is truly a gem of a reflection. I feel the constant tug of war you describe, not in terms of corporate vs. self-employed, which seems to be how many people here experience it, but in terms of being a different kind of parent. In the past years, we’ve hosted several exchange students, travelled to various countries and made lots of work sacrifices so we can have vital experiences with our kids. People find it strange and I doubt myself often but I do know that being different is a part of growing into the next version of myself.
It’s not ‘different’ it is just authentic.
We can unrobot life, the machinery and smoke, any time.