An atypical Jack of all trades.

Two of the most deeply innate, yet wholly misunderstood, qualities of human beings are the need to find passion and purpose. I understood this from an early age, and quickly tied the two together with an invisible red string, an impenetrable bond. I believed I could one day follow this little red string and find my own passion and purpose; the reason I was born. So, I tied a little red string to my pinky finger and made a wish, that when it broke, I would be on the right path to my purpose. As if it was a pinky promise to myself, I wore that string like a piece of fine jewelry for years, telling no one of its secret, and only taking it off to shower or retie.

Growing up, I watched all my friends try out different sports, clubs, and hobbies. Some found their passion in instruments, some found it in a field with a ball. I was always changing my mind about what I wanted to try. Maybe dance? Maybe softball or gymnastics, maybe girl scouts or sewing club? I would watch my friends win trophies in softball or track and play songs on their guitars or pianos. However, coming from a troubled and poor family in the 90s, I wasn’t able to participate in “unnecessary” after school activities, since we couldn’t afford uniforms, rides, or practice fees.

Coming from an impoverish family, there was also the matter of affordable medical insurance. This meant proper mental health treatment wasn’t available for me. I dealt with a lot of anxiety and depression growing up and, over the years, began to struggle with my self-worth. I had nothing to look forward to. No passion, and nowhere to belong. With the growing concern of not having a place to fit in I would try to keep myself busy with whatever distraction I could find.

A younger me would create little projects for myself to keep my mind calm and feel a sense of accomplishment. I used to leave them strewn all over my messy floor or scattered across my father’s filthy work bench in the garage. I didn’t have much, so I would find what I could and turn it into something beautiful. I once took an old brown briefcase and decorated it with scrabble letters, cheap rhinestones, and red and gold leaves from the oak tree in the yard. I stashed it under my bed to hide my diary and other secrets inside.

Another time, I found a really neat piece of driftwood along the creek near my house, it was nearly 3 ft long with twisting ends that branched off in several directions. I lugged the old, waterlogged piece of wood back home on my bicycle and dried it in the sun. Afterwards, I gently cleaned it with an old toothbrush, careful to get every crevice. I found some wood varnish in the garage, and without asking my father, I started painting. Once complete, I adorned this piece of driftwood with mystical trinkets from my dad’s collections, ceramic skulls, a wizard, little orbs and even spider web. My father was so impressed with the work I did, that he wasn’t even mad about the wood varnish. He even put it on display in the house, and it became a centerpiece every Halloween.

Every time I would create something beautiful, I would tell myself “This is it! I’ve finally found my passion and purpose. My little red string!” However, I would quickly lose interest and start again on something new. This is something I have been repeating my entire life into adult hood. A personality quirk that has interfered with every aspect of my life, including schooling, friendships, and even in my professional life.

Several years ago, I went through a four-year long bout of major depression due to this. I felt like my life was being wasted, and I still, at 22 years old, had no passion, no purpose, and no direction. I would jump from project to project trying to distract myself from the depression. I tried everything. I made dreamcatchers, I learned peyote stitch, I tried yoga and meditation, I redecorated my house, I learned cooking and baking, I made hand sewn journals, wreaths, I learned to sketch and paint, I learned about various topics in science, history, arts. I learned to garden, I learned how to make a wood flute and then how to play it, I took Jiu Jitsu lessons, I drafted stories, essays, and poetry, journaling, and scrapbooking. The list is endless. The problem didn’t lie in that I was not good at the things I tried. I felt like I could do anything with just a little bit of practice, research and trial and error. I have always been a bit of a perfectionist so completing a project meant that everything had to be perfect.

Every time I would learn and try something new, I would finally feel that same inner peace and joy again. Time after time, I would echo the same sentiment in my head “This is it! Finally, I have found something I can be passionate about!” Like clockwork, however, I would eventually become bored and find myself searching for the next thing to capture my attention. This thought pattern had led me down a miserable spiral in which I began to feel hollow and didn’t create at all. I felt empty and purposeless. My mind became a vicious torrent of negative, existential dread. “What if I had no purpose? What if passion isn’t real? Why am I even here? Human life is meaningless.” These were the thoughts that circled around in my head incessantly. That little red string always eluded me.

Friends, family, and coworkers started to become concerned about me and suggested I see a mental health professional. After four long years of struggling, I finally caved and started going to see a therapist close to home. There is so much stigma associated with mental health issues, but recently, with the powerful influence of social media, it has become more of an open topic. Regardless, I still felt embarrassed. I didn’t want some stranger with a clipboard to label me based on the frustrations I remembered to express in the moment.

After a few sessions, my therapist informed me that I had adult ADD which was worsening my anxiety and depression. “I always thought that was some made up illness parents thought of to make their kids sit still in church?” I naively responded. My therapist explained that untreated childhood ADHD and ADD could manifest itself in many different ways as an adult. After delving into the details, a lot of things I had dealt with in my life started to become clear. One of those things, was my inability to focus, and my ability to become easily bored.

I started treatment and medication and it has thoroughly changed my life. I was able to focus more, and I was motivated again. My anxiety and depression nearly disappeared. However, one thing remained the same. I still had no passion. I began the same routine again. Picking up a project and putting it down five minutes later. Able to feel the joy, passion, and peace briefly, only to begin searching for something new soon after. The only difference was, now I had a community to share this feeling with. Others, just like me, who couldn’t focus on just one thing long enough to feel passionate about it.

One day, a good friend of mine, Toby, flatly asked me "Why are you so concerned with finding something specific to be passionate about?” as he thumbed through the various projects spread out across my table with a solemn look on his face. Before I could respond he continued, “We are the universe experiencing itself through the human perspective. Why would you limit yourself to just one thing?"

It was in that moment that I wholly understood. It was like a light switch had turned on, illuminating the cloudy darkness in my mind. Through consciousness and the eyes of limited knowledge we, just as the universe, are able to learn, understand, and create. I realized my purpose was to learn, understand, and create as many things as I possibly could about this world and the people in it before my time here is up. My purpose was just to live in this experience fully. So, I stopped searching for new things I could learn to be passionate about and started being passionate about learning new things.

I had tried so many things in my life that I was able to start taking on more complicated projects. I had learned a lot through trial and error, and this gave me an insight on how to do much more complicated feats. I stopped forcing myself to feel like I needed to find the “one” and just let my creativity flow in whatever direction it felt called to. I learned to love and accept myself and this “quirk” became one of my most highlighted personality traits.

The focus of my direction soon became a desire to be good at so many things that I could do anything. As a result of all the ventures I had taken on I had become good at trying new things and learning how to learn new things easily. I decided I'm incredible at acquiring bizarre new skills and confidently taking on projects that are far too advanced for me, in fact, I've mastered it! An atypical jack of all trades.

I am 27 now and things aren't much different, I recently got over an extended period of hyper-focused learning about astronomy and quantum physics, and I moved on to a few other short-lived projects. I learned to sew and made some cozy throw pillows and blankets. I made a large LED cloud light for my ceiling. Currently I am reupholstering my couch, a 16-year-old, 4-piece sectional that is way out of my league. Nevertheless, it looks remarkable so far. In fact, it looks near professional! I’ve also taken up writing again here and there.

These days, I find solace in doing whatever creative project calls to me. I find a sense of inner peace and tranquility in completing something new, and in knowing that my experience as a human being on earth is fulfilled by taking on some new endeavor. To learn, to understand, and to create is what carries me though the ebb and flow of everyday life. With every new feat I try, it’s like illuminating a dark piece of my soul. That little red string of passion and purpose I spent my entire life searching for was always with me, tied to my wrist, waiting for me to stop searching outside of myself to notice.

Thankyou for reading! If you enjoyed my story, please consider dropping a heart, sharing to social media, or reading any of the other stories listed below.

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