Dear Graduate:
Soon you will hold a diploma in your hand. If you are a graduate who is college-bound, you have likely picked a university—and maybe even a major. You might believe you have a notion of what you’re going to do with your life, who you want to be when you grow up. (This post applies to college grads, too.) This is my story, along with a bit of general life advice I’ve collected in my years as a recruiter and now a career coach.
I walked into college planning on coming out a therapist. I had received therapy in middle school while my parents were divorcing, and I often knew what the therapist would say before she said it. Therapy felt like a calling. My twelve-year-old self believed that I could do this kind of work and probably be better at it than her. My path seemed so clear. And then, my freshman year, I sat in a 100-seat lecture hall for Psych 101 and was turned off immediately. It was math and statistics and data, nothing like the one-on-one conversational connection experience I was seeking. I knew I would drown in a four-year psychology program and the requisite post-graduate years. Therapy wasn’t my path after all.
For the rest of my freshman year and into my sophomore, I bounced through ideas. I thought I’d major in history, a subject I truly loved. I would specialize in Egyptian, Mesopotamian, and other ancient civilizations. In this life I dreamed, I would work at museums in London and across Europe. But my college had only one class—Ancient Civilization—after I finished it, there was nothing left to take. Being in the heartland of Illinois, my college had a tremendous number of classes focused around the Civil War and American history, but beyond the two European history classes I took, there was nothing else offered that aligned with my interests. Switching colleges wasn’t in the budget, so switching majors was the only option.
For two days, I declared myself a recreation major, deciding that working at a Club Med in the Caribbean would be a fine way to spend a life. Then I woke up and realized I wasn’t going to enjoy any of the business classes required of that program, me being such a liberal arts girl through and through. It felt stifling and just overall wrong.
My indecision led to a breakdown. I clearly remember sobbing hysterically in my dorm room one night during the first semester of my sophomore year. It was time to pick my second-term classes, and I was out of prerequisites. I couldn’t dawdle anymore. It was decision time.
I had one throughline in my life: I knew I was a writer. But, of course, like so many others, I had gotten the message that writers don’t really make a living, so I’d have to choose a “real” career.
Then I had a conversation with my creative writing professor that changed everything. He asked, “What do you want to do with your life?”
“I just want to be a writer.”
“Then you have only one choice. You need to be an English major because the only way to be a great writer is to study other writers.”
And with that, I set the course for the rest of my life.
In reality, though, I was already on that course, I had just veered off the path. In high school, I took every English class offered. I started writing in childhood, and when I was 14, my parents bought me a typewriter because I couldn’t keep up with my stories fast enough writing by hand.
So, I declared myself an English major and proceeded full steam ahead with the courses, minoring in creative writing (while also being just one credit shy of a history minor). For the remainder of college, whenever people would ask me what on earth I was thinking, majoring in English, I would say, “No, I’m not getting a teaching certification. I don’t want to be an English teacher. I want to be a writer.” To which they would reply, inevitably, “But that’s not a secure path. How will you work?”
“I know,” I would say with conviction. “I’ll figure it out.”
And I have. After a few years of working in a bookstore post-college, I fell into recruiting, which involved the part of psychology that I loved: working with people in one-on-one conversations. And while I spent years working as a recruiter, I kept writing. At one point, I negotiated a work schedule with my boss so I could come in to work later and write in the early morning.
I have written and published four books, and I have a thriving coaching practice—the best of both worlds. And while I never did get to work at museums abroad, I enjoy them on vacations.
I still fantasize about living in the Caribbean and working at a resort, but I know that’s not my life’s work. I’ve come to learn that using my voice to help others through writing and coaching is where I’m meant to be. I lead retreats for women, and I hope to create some in the Caribbean. That’s a life goal, which I plan to accomplish in 2027.
The biggest lesson I have to impart is this: Tune into your intuition. There’s likely an inner knowing that’s been driving you, a clarity of who you are meant to be in this life. So often, though, we’re told that what we want to do is not practical, not feasible, so we shush that inner voice.
Listen anyway. When we ignore our inner truth to serve some material goal, a soul crisis almost always results. Do you want to be a painter? Go for it. Maybe you’ll end up working in corporate marketing, but don’t stop painting at night and on the weekends. Go on vacations that immerse you in the world of art. Let your corporate job be your benefactor. That was how I viewed my time in corporate America.
The world needs people who are switched on and living their purpose. Our mental well-being begins with knowing who we are and staying the course. It’s so easy to do what others think you should do, to listen to all the voices out there. But what is your voice saying to you?
As someone who’s been in the business of helping people get jobs for thirty years, I have a secret to share: No one cares what your degree is in, so study what lights you up. If you’re reading this and you’ve already gotten your college degree (or will be finishing it soon), but you’re not super psyched about your major, go after the job or career you want regardless. In almost every career, the field of study that led you there doesn’t matter. During my time in corporate recruiting, a candidate taught me that a philosophy degree is a brilliant choice for data work because it teaches logic sequences. He could build a database like nobody’s business because his brain worked in logic patterns. So much of what we study translates in fascinating ways. Artists view life through a unique lens, seeing things in contrast and colors and shapes that many of us do not.
What mark do you want to leave on the world? How do you want to help uplift civilization? What’s burning inside of you? Don’t let it get quiet. Don’t put out that flame. Nurture it into a career. Grow it into a hobby. Use it to volunteer and give back. Don’t settle for a life that someone else has designed for you.
Signed,
Tami Palmer – Career/Life Coach
