Searching for “the One”: Why Some of Us Can’t Seem to Settle with One Career Path (and Why We Shouldn’t Worry about It)
Four reasons why we may become path switchers
I vividly remember one conversation I had with my mathematics teacher right before applying to high schools in grade nine. It was Halloween and our class at the Deutsche Schule Helsinki had decided to dress up for the occasion. I came to school in an outfit that could have appeared in a Gossip Girl episode had the show’s stylist leaned more towards a goth aesthetic: a red blouse with puffy shoulders, short black flare skirt and black boots. I had painted my face white, my eyes black and my mouth to appear to have been stitched together.
So, there I was sitting in some kind of teachers’ office space about to have a serious conversation about my future with my math teacher. She made a note of my freaky appearance but quickly gathered herself to focus on the purpose of the conversation. I had decided to apply to an upper secondary school for visual arts and my math teacher wanted to make sure I was making the right choice: “Are you sure this is what you want to do? You could do something with your skills in mathematics.”
In fact, I wasn’t entirely sure. Nor was I exactly running away from math: The school of visual arts turned out to have an array of excellent math teachers. All I knew was that I was curious to follow my interest in the arts and that going to an art-focused high school seemed more attractive than staying at the Deutsche Schule Helsinki.
The uncertainty about whether or not I have made the right choices has followed me throughout my life.
The uncertainty about whether or not I have made the right choices has followed me throughout my life. When I switched to the art-focused high school after grade nine, I kept wondering whether I should have stayed at the Deutsche Schule Helsinki. When I was deciding where to apply for university, I applied to eight different places to study anything from business to social anthropology and design. I even applied to study mathematics, because admission was basically certain having received the highest grade in the final examinations for math. When I was studying design (where I ended up), almost throughout my entire bachelor’s degree I kept speculating whether I should take up another major at the business school.
After three years, I graduated with a bachelor’s degree in design with a minor in digital marketing and a few other business-related courses. However, I did not continue with the textile design path I had mostly focused on in my studies. Instead, I applied to a multidisciplinary master’s program in design-driven innovation. It was a relief to begin a program which celebrated an identity in-between fields whether it was design and business, design and tech or business and tech — or a combination of all three.
I never felt like the highly promoted T-shaped professional who has deep knowledge in one field and broad knowledge in one or more additional fields, but more like a badly drawn asterisk with multiple lines of different lengths.
Throughout my studies, I felt as if I had one foot in the field of design and another in the field of business. And lots of other foots in other fields. I never felt like the highly promoted T-shaped professional who has deep knowledge in one field and broad knowledge in one or more additional fields, but more like a badly drawn asterisk with multiple lines of different lengths. I guess that’s what you call a generalist.
Lately, I have been wondering why some of us find it difficult to pin down a single field to focus on. I wanted to take some time to explore the different reasons for why someone might decide to switch from one path to the next. To illustrate the ideas, I welcome you inside the mind of a constant path switcher. More specifically, I explore my decision to not continue with my endeavors in textile design.
1. Having Lots of Different Interests
I have always marveled at people who find one field they are passionate about — or one that they simply decide to stick to — and go all in. I’ve never been like that. Sure, I enjoyed working with fabrics, colors and composition. But I also loved writing essays about design theory, reading through the marketing bible by Kotler and Keller and practicing a speech for a public speaking course. When one’s interests are scattered all over the place, it feels unnatural and unattractive to simply pick one of them.
2. Being Afraid to Close Doors on Other Interests
I have always agonized over needing to choose between two or several attractive paths. It’s scary to think that choosing to pursue one interest more intensively could mean closing the door on other interests. When I spent my weekends weaving a little piece of fabric at the textile studio, I couldn’t help but wonder how much I could have progressed in my other interests had I used the time for, for example, reading.
3. Escaping When the Going Gets Rough (or Just Not Having What It Takes)
This is a the hardest to admit. While I don’t think I sucked at textile design, I also didn’t feel particularly talented in it. Coming up with color combinations did not feel effortless. When I looked at my prints, they often appeared clumsy or forced. I was certain they would fall apart from closer examination. In a way, I escaped textile design the second I realized I would have to put in thousands of hours of hard work. But at the same time, when I compared myself to the other design students, I quickly noticed that, for example, writing essays for our more theoretical classes often came more easily to me. And I enjoyed the process! Thus, it’s difficult to determine whether I was uncomfortable with being a beginner (read: fixed mindset) or whether I was simply being sensible when I gravitated towards something that I felt more skillful in.
4. Searching for “The One”
But then there’s an even bleaker analysis of my path switching. As some people search for a partner to make them feel whole, perhaps I was searching for a vocation to make me feel whole. I was expecting textile design to give me something back. A beautiful end result. A feeling of effortlessness. A thank you. A praise. Somehow textile design just didn’t “feel right”. Perhaps I unconsciously believed that textile design should somehow relieve any existential unease I might have felt at the time had I taken the time to examine it. So I continued my search.
Ok, this got a little heavy…
That’s why I want to share one more idea: Perhaps some people simply are meant to be path switchers for the time being. I came across this notion at a casual event back in 2019. The minute I walked in the event venue the organizer I was familiar with pushed the book Range by David Epstein into my hands. “Read this,” he said. The book argues that as opposed to early specialization many people who end up mastering a specific skill or become top performers in their field have in fact taken lots of time to explore multiple different paths. One sentence in the book description aptly summarizes the main argument: “Frequent quitters end up with the most fulfilling careers.”
After reading the book, I felt a little more comfortable with being a badly drawn asterisk. Perhaps pursuing a variety of different interests eventually allows me to bring novel skills and perspectives to a specific field: The lines of my asterisk find their place and form a star. And if not, well, at least I get to experience the joy of visiting all those different worlds. What a pity it would be to do otherwise. In the meantime, we can bring a little bit of the demeanor of the 15-year-old dressed up as a horror figure to the seemingly serious conversations about our future.
