How the Puritans Set Me Up to Fail

In 1620, Mayflower set sail from England with 102 passengers seeking out religious freedom in the New World. Of the 102 passengers, only 53 survived the first winter. They were ill prepared for the harsh conditions of their new land and nearly half of their group perished within the year. It may have been enough to send some packing back to the safety of England but not the Puritans. They stayed. They learned. They survived. They prospered against all odds and they believed that this was their destiny - to live a life in relentless pursuit of the tasks set upon them by God. They believed that leisure was sinful and that the struggle was predestined. This belief became the cornerstone of New England life.

New Englanders have a reputation for being stead-fast, sturdy, dedicated, and hardworking. These ideals seeped into the very soil from which I came. These ideals were passed from generation to generation. The American dream took root and spread like wild-fire. The hustle was predetermined and as inevitable as breathing.

I watched my parents work tireless to earn their living. My dad - an unstoppable force with record setting sales figures; My mom - an absolute institution who was the subject of the hospitals recruitment campaign with the slogan “We could use more Carols.”

And when I graduated high school, I set my sights high. I wanted to be an engineer. So, off to engineering school I went. I hated it but I fell in love with theater - set dressing, costuming, acting, and producing. I watched scripts come to life before my eyes and love every minute of it while barely getting by in my physics courses. Theater came naturally but that ease felt sinful. If it wasn’t taxing, was it worth doing?

I wish I had the wisdom then to follow my passions but I believed that I had to do something. I did not believe that creative pursuits were anything but a hobby. The things that made me feel alive were the things I believed I would have to give up when college ended and I entered the real world to become the best of the best at something.

I did eventually drop engineering in favor for biochemistry, which I truly enjoyed, and went on to pharmacy school. At 22, I believed this was it. I was going to be a pharmacist and if that’s not something, I don’t know what is.

Fast foward to 2014, I graduated and landed my first job as a clinical pharmacist at biggest hospital in Maine (because working in a retail pharmacy was not something enough for me). I got comfortable in my role and I felt like I was really doing the thing. The elation didn’t last long, though.

Only three years into my career, I felt broken and disillusioned. I went to college. I landed the job. I became something and still I felt lost and empty. I struggled to understand why I wasn’t fulfilled.

I searched high and low for answers. I went to therapy. I joined a book club. I dated. I survived the proverbial first winter but still I was failing.

I had built my entire personality around being a pharmacist because that was the something I had pursued to become successful and worthwhile - to avoid the sin of leisure. Still, I felt like I was drifting.

What was next? More degrees? More certifications? Nothing I explored felt right. I had spent so long chasing the dream and once I got there, I didn’t know how to move forward. Was this how it was supposed to be? I was I supposed to work really hard just to be miserable. Was this my New World?

All signs pointed to yes but still I hoped there was something bigger. I waited patiently for my Eat, Pray, Love moment - the realization that life is more than a job; a lightbulb moment that pushed me towards greatness. The moment didn’t come. There was no trip to Bali or trek along the Pacfiic Coast Trail in my future. There was only this - my very real, very normal life.

No one was coming to rescue me. There was no adventure waiting to open up my carefully constructed world. There was no finding myself in the jungle. I had to find myself right were I stood.

And so I did. And I learned that I was something enough because I existed. Because I breathe air and swim in the ocean. Because I laugh and cry. I was already something to behold. I didn’t need fancy degrees. I didn’t need to prove how smart, successful, and amazing I could be. My existence is proof enough of my worth.

But beyond worthiness, which is inherent to my being, I yearned for something more. A creative outlet and community. And so, Laurel and Iron came into existence - founded on the idea of that grace and strength can coexist.

I can be hardy and soft. I can be creative and scientific. I can be me and that me can shift and change and evolve. I can rest and be successful. I can do nothing and still be something.

My world is less black and white than it was in 2017. I no longer prescribe to the belief that I owe the world my efforts. Instead, I am chasing the things that make me happy - reading, writing, cooking, creating. Yes, I’m still a pharmacist. No, it is not the thing that lights me up. It is the thing that keeps a roof over my head and that is enough.

I still hope and pray that someday there will be something that both lights me up and keeps me warm. But I have given up on the idea that I need to get there today. The grind is not inevitable. My leisure is not a sin. I can take my time and craft my dream life as I go. I can work as pharmacist and find creativity and joy outside of my work.

When I stood still and looked around, I saw the truth. I am the only who gets to define my successes and my failures. My worth is not a paycheck or a title or a degree. It doesn't matter how hard I work at the wrong thing - that will never bring me fulfillment. What is easy and natural, isn’t inherently wrong. It is my gift to the world and it is safe for me to lean into it. To share my story. To help you find your own.

My job is just a job. Nothing more, nothing less. My life, however, is full of friends, love, small wonders, and tiny adventures. And that is something.