Jana Stýblová

//

Today, I learned my mother’s only experience of nuts, until her adult life, was on New Years: only a handful, some of which where solemnly found to be rotten. It wasn’t until she married my father and moved to the Czech Republic, that she’d feast on walnuts falling from the trees next to our home, for days. And again, it was a few years back that I learned her first experience of an orange was when she was 13. She ate it with the peel. She had never seen an orange, never seen someone eat an orange. What do you do with a citrus if you’ve never seen a citrus? 

//

Sometimes, I forget that I’m an immigrant. Sometimes, I don’t let myself acknowledge that it may have impacted me in more ways than I was aware. In ways that I’m ashamed to admit, because, absolutely, I do not have it bad and I can’t possibly complain. Part of being an immigrant is pretending that you’re not an immigrant.

Certain things happen when you come to a country where you, very tangibly, know nothing and no one. It changes the very architecture of your self-awareness and self-understanding. Even more so when it’s several generations of immigration. It changes the formula of your family and the way you see your parents (and thus become yourself): under the roof of fear of others, of their thoughts or actions, constant self-criticism, constant shame, constant wanting to do better. To succeed. To be accepted. Constantly battling the notion that we are “others”. People’s comments. Accents. Improper [insert new language]. The only one who cried on the first day of kindergarten. Sitting in the back. Inability to read. Cutting out the cat from the magazine, because damn it that’s what I wanted to cut out and I have no idea what you’re saying when you try to explain this assignment to me. 

It’s subtle. It’s very, very subtle...the monster that begins to grow inside of you. The impact won’t be seen for years. Or even decades. Others convince you that you should be a certain way. You convince yourself that you should be a certain way. The act of convincing yourself becomes your way. The act of modifying yourself because habit. Second nature. You began to believe that this is, in fact, you. You pride yourself on being a chameleon and being able to fit yourself into any slot. You start defining success as whatever the people around you define as success, because that is what you did from the very beginning. Because you adapt. Because just look busy and no one will notice. You blend in. Blend in until you get tired. Then, you compete. Then, you succeed. You Succeed. And you feel true happiness. It is true happiness. That’s exactly what it feels like. You felt it all, you meant it all, it was true, in all the ways that you understood truth to be at that point in time. You’re a successful immigrant. You thank the universe for the opportunity, you thank your parents and for their countless struggles... minimum wage, night classes, thrift stores, water-downed coke so it would last longer for the kids, piano lessons that no-one could actually afford but that changed. your. life. For so long, you don’t allow yourself to acknowledge that it was difficult. You didn’t deal with it, nor with the guilt. It changed you beyond recognition. Your parent’s efforts transferred into your own. As did their mentalities. You don’t acknowledge that you were actually hiding. 

//

And, then, with no notice whatsoever, you wake up.

Not from a nightmare, not even from a dream. No, you slam face-first into a wall. You didn’t see the wall coming, yet it somehow seems familiar. The more you think about it, the more you remember having seen this wall in the distance, speeding towards you, the entire time. You remember it, but you have no recollection of it. You only felt it. Perhaps as a discomfort. Perhaps as a fleeting thought. As a tickle. As a whisper. As a hope, a glance, an escape, in the booze, in the cigarettes, in the internet. In the sleepless nights, in the experimentation, in your day job. And now you’re here. You didn’t choose to be here, necessarily, but you are responsible for being here. You are responsible for now.

It affected every element of your life. Every gesture of your being. And you weren’t able to see it. You couldn’t predict the affect it would have on you; the deep foundational desire for everything to be okay and safe. Things around you begin to crumble. You realize that you are for the first time allowed to be yourself, because the rest is done. The rest has been ticked off your imaginary list, that you never meant to write. And the only thing that you are left with is yourself. The horror of you. 

And how can you possibly deal with you, this creature that you have never known.

//

Call this a breaking point. Call this finding yourself. Call this going mad. Call this becoming spiritual. I don’t know what they say. There are people who seem to have made a vow to never speaking to me again, I’m assuming. But all I want to do, as I look back, is scream at the world that “I just wanted to be loved.” And isn’t that what we all ever want. “I didn’t mean any harm, and I wasn’t myself.” because the very beginning of my understanding of time, required me wanting to be like everyone else. And woe is me, I know. And I hurt, too, I know. And aren’t we all just doing the best we can. And isn’t it all a mess. 

It’s a fucking mess. It’s a beautiful mess. And, I, for one, can’t be sorry for that anymore.

//

Today, I’m home, again. I'm in the same corner of the couch (though, it’s now a new couch) and I’m reliving all of the thoughts and feelings I had almost exactly one year ago. I’ll sit in this corner, I’ll change position only to move to my bed, as I would have done for the subsequent 4 months that followed. But, by now, the memories will have changed as much as I have. I’ll recall the pain. I’ll recall choosing to feel it, rather than choosing to feel fear. I’ll recall the wall. I’ll recall climbing it. I’ll recall facing myself. And, I’ll recall starting it all again, this time from scratch. 

//

The home of my mother, uncle, and grandparents, Kazakhstan, 2013

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Positive aspects: it brings thoughts to the forefront of the mind. In this moment as I write this I suppose it’s true: I can’t exactly think about other things. Or I can, but it’s in a weird way, the thoughts are all literally in a dark corner, momentarily buried.

It’s been a strange battle to get myself to a place where I can write. I’ve been trying to analyze it and have come up with a strange combination of “necessity” based arguments. I know that it is good, and useful, and I have proven to myself in the past that it can create opportunity and possibility for discovery. Yet, it’s been dreadfully difficult to actually sit and write. Does that mean I shouldn’t? It’s a simultaneous longing and disdain.

I suppose many things are like that. You hate it whilst you love it. Maybe only the true cherishable things are like that. A dichotomy. It is a dichotomy. A binary existence where you both have complete objective clarity on what is happening, while at the same time are completely immersed in a sea of purity that is more honest, more true, than what your brain can assess or acknowledge.

I’m living in a state of binary right now. Unrelated to what I just mentioned about writing, but a perpetual plane, where one side is logic, rationale, awareness of this moment here, married to the other side: obsession, delusion, an abyss of thoughts and senses that are linked to something that hasn’t happened, but has a very high potential for the future.

Waiting to meet                      has been a complete out of body, lucid, surreal, true state of existence. It’s the only thing that makes any sense, yet historically speaking would be labeled to be absolutely mad. I’m starting to wonder if this isn’t more closely linked to intuition than I’m realizing. The state of duality being an anchor, a rope, to intuition. To a deeper truth that is rarely ever visited.

Perhaps it’s just a general evolution. It’s a hyper awareness of now but a nod of acknowledgement to the sea of distraction we continually put ourselves in: jobs, films, music… we love to be submerged. Maintaining this balance is still a mystery to me. How is it that in any given moment I’m able to flip a switch and see everything around me as though I’m seeing it layered one on top of the other, like stacked film, weighted, thick with a smell of musk, the details more austere, edges more defined.

Perception is a strange trick of the brain. But as I’m thinking about this moment now: I do feel quite connected with the seconds that are going by. I’m hearing the sounds around me with more clarity. I’m noticing the stillness. My breath even. For god’s sake. It’s vivid.

I have been avoiding writing about this. Perhaps out of respect. But mostly out of fear. I hope that the person involved in the things I'm about to say doesn't take offense. It's in all honesty from a place of deep respect, acknowledgment, sorrow, awe.

And I need to write about it. In that way that you force yourself to acknowledge your own demons via a gesture.

//

A bit less than a year ago I played a significant role in ending the most important thing in my life, the closest and deepest relationship I had ever known. And by "significant role" I mean that I did it. It was me. 

It was a relationship built on profound mutual respect. Accompanied by a willingness to do and say it all. It was the grandest thing I had ever experienced. And nothing I can say now will do it justice. 

But something happened. And I'm not even sure exactly what it was. And I often wonder if I ever will. But the only thing I can say is that I changed. I completely changed. I changed so much and so quickly that I'm now uncertain of the permanence of just about everything around myself. We measure experiences, thoughts, beliefs, the ability to trust against our own self, ultimately. We empathize because we know our own core and our own pain and our own happiness. And when something that has been so stable for 26 years shifts this drastically, it essentially demolishes all points of reference. And nothing quite makes sense anymore. And you begin to view everything around you with the knowledge that it can all disappear in a matter of moments.  So, when things were coming to an end, and I had this impression that it would be fiery, tumultuous, that there would be pushing and pulling: I was wrong. It was the opposite of that and I understand why. It was quiet and subtle. It was reverent and loving. This person acknowledged me as a human so much so that my own personal self-indulgent drowning didn't phase or shake. Instead it was met with a pause and a nod.

That act will stay with me forever. I've learned what it means, now. And I can't imagine a greater discomfort than the sorrow I feel for not having known myself or understood the situation at that time; for having let everything evolve and happen to the point that it did. For my gracelessness and my ineptitude. For the sheer destruction I unleashed.

//

Now, having changed inside, having changed everything on the outside. Having left the majority of everything behind. Having lost friends, changed jobs, quit jobs, changed careers, having succumbed myself to all flavors of psychological trials and then having slept for months. Having moved across the country. Having nothing concrete anywhere in anything. I'm here.

—

My sentiments regarding "home" haven't changed: home being somewhere deep inside of us, rather than a location. I have been in North Carolina for 3 months. I write that as though I'm still trying to convince myself here is in fact home. I suppose decade old habits are hard to shake.

But, to be honest, I'm not quite sure what I have done in those 3 months, except perhaps a heavy dose of sitting on the front porch and sipping coffee through my teeth in the mornings. I think I mean that in a good way. 

—

When I first arrived I was a wreck. Even I could discern that much. But the majority of my self-evaluation came from the initial opinions of my parents (skewed) and then the following months of self-reflection that followed (skewed). 

Looking back, I can barely even remember any of it. I spent the first month acting as though I wasn't back, hiding from the majority of my friends here, hiding from myself. I drowned myself in sleep, often laying down around 10 and waking back up at 4 in a panic and then willing myself, often unsuccessfully, back to bed until 10. I'd read during the day. I'd eat. I'd cook. Mostly, though, I would just stare out at the window. Now and then I'd go on a walk. I suppose I still had to work; I had some important projects to finish up. I don't really remember much of that, though. Even if it was really my only contact with the outside world. Though, I suppose I was keeping in touch with some closer friends, who were at a distance. 

I'm not really sure what I'm describing here (or why). Exhaustion? Depression? My hindsight isn't telling me much except the fact that it was necessary. Steeping the fabric so you can more easily begin washing away the grime. 

—

The New Year brought some freshness. I spent the evening prior with my parents, who at this point had become both much closer, and more distant. I had always known that we functioned on different wavelengths. But this trip solidified those sentiments: I could no longer talk about what was happening in my life. At least not in a way that would provide constructive conversation, or even anything other than confusion and judgement. Perhaps I'm not being fair.

January blurred by with some highlights here and there, details that are not quite lending themselves to be written just yet. New projects, endeavors, horizons began to bubble up. New ideas forming: slowly my compass started to shift towards what seemed to sit a bit better with my intuition.

That's really the main effect of it all: I've slowly been digging up something I've buried a long time ago. A desire, a goal, a dream, intertwined with and intertwining all my past interests. It hasn't quite taken full form yet, but I can say that I know where I would like to start heading. Better yet I know where I don't want to head. I know what I don't want to do. 

—

I feel heavy. I feel excited. All at the same time. I feel that it has all happened already, and nothing has happened. As though everything will change, but nothing will change. Mostly, I'm recognizing that I am on a cliff again, watching the water below, chuckling about the fact of finding myself here. But in a good way. In an accepting way. Knowing that each cliff is inevitable, and more necessary than the last.

//

Dear _______,

You've been a bit off-center, recently. You had the expectation of complete re-alignment upon your return 'home', but quite the opposite occurred. The necessary yet painful space you've forced down your own throat (from the city, and otherwise) has illuminated corners you hadn't seen before. You thought you had found all the corners. We are never done, with anything, are we? And so you have been acting out as a result. You have not been yourself.

At times you appear to be a ship. And you have watched yourself sink many ships already. And maybe the crew died. Maybe they survived. Either way they'll never see you again. But, perhaps what you're realizing is that you don't need a crew. Not to get to where you're going. Nor do you need a ship.

Though, you fear going it alone. That's a fact. You fear the very fact that you fear going it alone. You've gone to so many places alone already. You fear the person you are when you're alone. But then again, you fear you may not be going it alone. You fear the very fact that you fear that you may not be going it alone. You fear the person you become when you're not alone.

Having lived in NYC for four years, the word "home" has slipped out of my mouth as a descriptor, but only in the way that you call something home because you reside there with the majority of your possessions.

I thought for certain that coming back to North Carolina would stir up that nostalgic sensation of Return. But that morning on that drive, on that road I used to escape down during high school with windows open and music playing teenagely-loud, it didn't. 

Being in North Carolina is comfortable, it's familiar, my parents are here, but it isn't mine. It is where I was brought. It is where I spent the majority of my awkward years trying to walk the tight-rope of not understanding the language and culture, changing myself to fit in, and desperately trying to hold on to my own roots. It wasn't my choice. And then it became stasis. I come down here and it is like visiting an old battle field.

The fact is, I've never felt like I quite fit in anywhere.

Going back to Prague fills a hole inside of my heart so deep that sometimes I prefer it to be empty just so I can hold on to the whimsy of those foreign country sides, foods, people, trains rides...

What else is left?

I think I'm finally realizing, and I think I realized on that morning drive, and on my drive down from NYC having made an irish exit, and on my original drive up to NYC with all of my possessions never having visited the city before: home is inside of me when I am most uncomfortable.

Home is not a where. It is a when.

I am most at peace if I am doing something that is hypothetically unimaginable. Something that forces me to feel uncertain, to question, to challenge. It is when I hike every mountain range in the world. When I visit every country. When I finally make it to space. Home is dropping everything and moving to a new city for a little while for no reason other than that knowing feeling in my gut. 

Home is always pushing, searching, exploring, throwing, finding, creating, loving, always, in everything. It's barely making out what is on the horizon but trusting in it more than you have ever trusted in anything. 

Home is when I feel butterflies in my stomach. Home is knowing that they'll lead the way.

In the spirit of burnout, everything is jarbled and mixed together in fragmented thoughts and unedited stream of consciousness. (by the way, I have been using Keep for writing, and it has changed my life.)

//

I'm currently sitting in the office bathroom. Its like a scene from one of those teen movies: not until this moment have I ever sat on a public toilet (yeah yeah, I hover) let alone while wearing pants. Is it cleaner than the seats on NYC's subway? Actually, it might be. I may or may not have just spent the better half of the last hour a bit weepy. And by weepy I mean full on deep inhales + sobbing fest + all the toilet paper used for the waterfalls coming out of my eyeballs. And I'm writing this. And people are coming in and out of the bathroom, and my legs are crossed so you know I'm not getting down to business (sorry, just roll with it) And you know what? It feels good. Really good. It feels good to be real with...well, anyone reading this. Myself included. I have people often say to me that my life looks lovely. And you're right, it does, and IS. But people so often forget that we are all human. And everything is a wave. It all goes up and comes down, and oftentimes the best moments may have negative amplitudes conflicting. So, I want to celebrate this moment with you. This moment in the bathroom. That's right. This moment of humanhood. Preceded by a week of basically no sleep, because I don't know how to do that when I'm stressed. A week of terrible eating and no exercise. And generally probably a few weeks of not enough self-love. And those are things I list as mistakes. I guess am still learning how to take care of myself. //

I just spoke with a colleague of mine and learned that he sets aside time specifically for crying. And at first I thought, well, that is quite unnatural. But, I guess, it's actually pretty brilliant. I never enjoy crying in public, let alone in situations where I should be doing something that is much more useful / surrounded by people / needing to get work done / etc. There's a certain utility about it. But I schedule almost all other aspects of my life. And from a strictly business perspective (because I work long hours, in the office, in clear eyesight of many people), it is a nice concept, to know that there is dedicated time set aside for a good cry, Now, don't get me wrong, I'll cry at any commercial happy or sad, any day.  // This morning I woke up on an inflatable mattress, in the fourth location in a week. I've never been so transient in terms of living arrangements. Now, in this moment, I'm writing from my childhood bed in North Carolina. I planned this trip a long time ago. But it was before I was back at a full-time job. But I'm learning to keep promises to myself, something I've never really done. I promised myself I would take some space, a leave from the city, detox from my life there. It's quiet here. 

//

Supernovae Type IIb implode before they explode. Currently sitting at a rest stop somewhere in Jersey. Realizing I don't get agitated by people much anymore: traffic. A symptom of improved mindfulness? I hope so. Conservation of all possible energies. Driving with one headphone in listening to the same song on repeat for the past 3 hours. And will continue to, but what does this say about my state of mind? What is it? Obsession? Burning out has made me a dopamine addict. I can't get enough of anything. How does this get fixed? Sleep, yoga, running, coconut oil...I'll see you my friends soon. Also, have officially become a New York flavored driver. Oh, maybe that's a metaphor. I act on impulse practically always, now. I don't take time to decide. Tapping into intuition? I feel that I just know when something is right and when something is wrong. Slight conservation of energy: some good things come out of burnouts. How do you expand that into a business strategy? "Oh, this is vibing therefore...". Maybe we need a spiritually awakened appendix to all things. All things.

1. Observe.

From this second onwards, observe every detail around you. From the way a stranger is signing his check at a restaurant, to the way the dust piles up especially peculiarly in one corner of your room, to the way the sun through the blinds creates a layered mathematical dance of shadows on the wall.

Observation is the most important method of information acquisition. As humans we do it instinctually, but we are rarely mindful enough to catalogue what we observe, especially seemingly drab details of everyday life. So flex the observation muscle: it needs to be trained and built up over time so that you are able to quickly (most of the time subconsciously) access a huge reservoir of human and world data.. Actions, details, patterns all combine to create a toolbox of references that you will use down the road to create products, campaigns and solutions that are authentic, relevant, and HUMAN.

And don’t just look: listen, touch, feel, preferably with eyes closed. 

2. Get really good at math.

I’m not joking. And I can see your Calculus teacher smiling quietly in our general direction. I cannot tell you how useful my mathematical background has been in my journey. The corners of your brain that are used to solve complex equations and study structure, shape, and change, are forever re-wired. For the rest of your life, your brain functions a bit differently. And for the better — you can never unlearn a method for solving a problem. 

And if I can’t convince you that this will impact every part of your life, then at least let me convince you that it will allow you to provide clever and ingenious tactics and ideas for your design projects, especially those of the product flavor. 

3. Study science.

No, don’t just study it, understand it. For all the same reasons as the ones mentioned above. And if you can get as good at it as math, then even better. Okay, I’ll hesitate a step further and say: study Physics. Physics is essentially the application of mathematics (what you’ve already gotten really good at) to the study of how everything works around you. As a Creative Director you will be creating beautiful things, for the PHYSICAL world. And this includes the internet and your cutely animated mobile interactions that bounce just right mimicking a hypothetical force of gravity…

Understanding how the world around you works provides you with an unparalleled foundation for you to build upon…

And for you to demolish. Once you learn the rules of the physical world, you will know which rules to cleverly break.

4. Study art.

Know your shit. Study art history (I’m bad about this, but include in that the history of design), learn from the greats and about the rules they broke and how they broke them. Learn how they viewed society and how they responded to society so you can better equip yourself to do the same for the present day. Familiarize yourself with contemporary conceptual artists who are pushing boundaries — art has no rules, it is always new, changing, mutating, evolving while acting as a mirror to individuals’ minds and our society as a whole. Studying art trains you to become skeptical, especially of established paradigms. It teaches you to always question, investigate, and to discover the truth behind all motivations.

Select starting points: Lucas Samaras, Yves Klein, Gerhard Richter

5. Be mindful and kind.

This one is obvious. You will get nowhere in life if you are not kind, you know this. But in this industry it is paramount. Feelings, thoughts, intuitions go haywire, especially during crunch time, or the inevitable 9 to 9 that you will work. You MUST always keep this perspective at the forefront of your mind: Everyone means well, no one is out to get you or anyone else for that matter (don’t go into fashion), no one intends to harm purposefully, and you should practice similar mentalities accordingly. 

To help yourself get there, practice mindfulness — love of yourself will allow the love of others to flourish. Love of yourself, will allow you be honest with yourself, down to the very little details you hate. Which brings me to the next point:

6. Be confident, but lean on others.

Your opinion is important, know that. But that doesn’t mean that you can be cocky; you don’t know it all, nor will you ever. In fact, the more you continue on this path the less you will know. Younger designers will teach you some of your most important lessons. You will need to lean on others almost every step of the way; ask for help when you need it. There is no such thing as truly creating something by yourself, no idea is yours alone. Your entire future will be collaborative, get used to it now. But while you develop these symbiotic relationships, make sure you continue to trust yourself and trust your past. Trust your intuitions, listen to your gut feelings, know that your entire life’s experience is relevant and affects every aspect of the choices that you are making today.

7. Speaking of younger designers, manage up.

I am good friends, still, with nearly all of my previous bosses. And I would like to think that I was good friends with them long before now. They are my mentors, for work and for life. 

Managing up doesn’t necessarily imply that your bosses are bad, in fact, I’ve been blessed to have had very few bad bosses, but I have still “managed up” — be warned, this may involve some subterfuge. 

Your relationship with your boss is like any other relationship: it is symbiotic. If they don’t know this, and are truly dreadful, then what in the world are you doing to yourself (aka get out)? But otherwise, you have the opportunity to create an incredibly rewarding connection for both individuals. 

Your boss is a human. Like with all humans that you chose to spend 9-12 hours a day with (think about that for a second) you want to make sure you feel comfortable and appreciated, but at the same time you want to make sure THEY are comfortable and appreciated. Usually this involves learning something about them (god forbid), e.g. what does your boss constantly worry about? It’s probably 10,000% more important and hectic than whatever you’re dealing with. Why are they acting the way they are? There is always a good reason, and it usually has nothing to do with you. Do you honestly know how much time he/she spends on x, y, and z? The answer is no. Make sure THEY are happy. And after working your ass off, doing great work, and learning what appeals to them, speak up. Tell them how you feel. Be open and honest. Make sure they know you how you want to be treated and talk to them openly and constructively about your ideal working environment.

Be responsible. Be responSIVE. Be adaptive, flexible, open hearted, empathetic and kind. It’s a marriage, sorry. But it’s probably the most informative marriage you’ll ever have. And that type of support is hard to come by, but once achieved will undoubtedly accelerate your career to places you didn’t even think were possible.

Oh and maybe you’ll get a really decent friend out of it.

8. Work for free.

When I started my career as a designer I worked a full-time job (in fashion retail no less) and worked a side design job in the evenings and weekends, for free. I immersed myself in the start-up world and started helping people wherever they would let me. Can you imagine the lessons I learned about myself (my value and self-worth), time management, and business strategy in general by working for free?

The first benefit you’ll see is the womb of fire and passion you’ll all the sudden find yourself surrounded by when working with individuals who are also working for free (if you don’t, I should have prefaced: work for free, but work for something you care about, and work with people who care even more about it). These individuals will be your mentors, even though they don’t know that yet. 

Secondly, this will create a space for experimentation and for self-education. Working for free creates a space with very little expectation, allowing your creativity to run wild. You will be able to make mistakes without fear of repercussion. Interested in product design but have always been a marketer? Jump into the start-up world: offer your services to design an app, but do actually take the time to learn how to do it properly. 

Okay, now it’s about it get interesting.

9. Stop reading this article.

There is no right path, and ultimately no advise will help you get to where you want to go except for perseverance, faith, and a shit ton of hard work. But you know this, and more than likely, if you’re reading this article and remotely interested in heading up creative, you already have what it takes. And you’ll do whatever feels right to you, regardless of what anyone has to say about it. So, don’t be afraid to go your own way. Dedicate your time to what you love, and do it well, and you will find yourself falling backwards into what will ultimately be a true calling. But it might not happen by the time you’re 25…and be okay with that, because otherwise… here comes #10.

10. Quit.

You’re chasing a title. Stop. You’re going to be unhappy, trust me (or don’t trust me, you just read #9, you’re going to do whatever you need to do regardless of what I have to say about it).

Don’t get me wrong, some CD positions might be everything you expected, but more than likely if someone is hiring a 25 year old Creative Director, they don’t know what the hell they are doing, and neither do you. They won’t treat you the way you deserve to be treated, and you won’t know what to do with that situation to make it happy for all involved. 

Quit, because you’ve reached your hypothetical ultimate goal of being “Creative Director” and well…now what? You’re going to be unhappy because you have more than likely been chasing the wrong thing.

And you probably haven’t been paying enough attention to your real life to even know what the right thing is. If you’ve done 1 - 8, you’ve done amazing things already, and nothing will bring you truer happiness than finding your calling, a calling without a title attached — but what is your calling? Do you know? Because I didn’t (don’t). I was a Creative Director at 25 and I didn’t know shit about what I truly wanted. All I had was a pressure from above, be it societal, parental, masochistic, to blindly chase what everyone else told me I should want. 

So quit. Take some time for yourself. Relish, and I mean really relish, in some hearty solitude while diving deeply into your soul. What you will more than likely find is that you need the right people and the right direction, and that’s really all you need. Find people who care and feel as deeply as you do. Who share your world-views and visions for society as a whole, who will be there by your side to fight the fight. 

Work, if done properly, in my strange and potentially skewed humble opinion, has the potentially to create the most beautiful relationships…marriages, partnerships…

—

Don’t look for a title (and definitely not a salary).

Look for your people.