I went to a therapist about this exact thing. I know, it seems crazy, but when you're the artist in a family of physicians, and when everyone is looking at you to follow in their medical footsteps, the pressure builds. So I went to therapy and explained how I'm the black, artist sheep of the family, how I'm pretty good at a lot of things but an expert of none, and how I envy those who have an obvious direction in life: a clear, birth-given talent. And you know what she told me? That those people are fucked. That someday, when for whatever reason they can no longer do/be/cultivate that one talent, they're completely lost. But that for people like us, who are somewhat good at a lot of things, we can simply move to the next without skipping a beat. And you know what? She was right. I made it my goal to learn as many trades as possible, so that should anything ever happen I could always fall back on something I knew how to do with my own two hands. I also started investing. Small amounts build up. I got a bank account outside of my regular bank account and didn't order a debit card; once the money was in it couldn't come back out, and I transferred money to my "hands off" account with every paycheck, even if it was just a couple bucks. I invested in real estate and found properties that make me 5.5% a year. No, it doesn't buy me flashy cars, but I'm getting rich slowly. I bought my first house. I bought a second house and turned the first one into a rental. I bought a third house and turned the second into a rental. I took all proceeds and put them into my investments. I started my own consulting and design company to foster what I found to be two things I'm really good at: negotiating and making shit pretty. I buy my fourth house in six months and my fifth and final house six months after that. I cook at home, I rarely buy clothes, and I get called names by my friends for being "such a Jew". (Their words, not mine). I'm a 37 year old woman. I've never been married. And I'll be retired by 39. You don't need passion. You need drive. Find what drives you - it can be a medley of shit. Stop worrying about what others think - those fuckers will be working until they're seventy while you sip champagne in Monte Carlo. Oh, and workout and eat well; it makes a world of difference. Plus looking good feels fucking great and gets you laid. Bonus.
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