10,000 Hours

Musings on how to be good at nothing and everything and the people who help you along the way

When I was a kid, I thought that if I learned as many skills as possible and practiced them as much as possible, I would be prepared for any situation in life. For a 7-year-old girl, that meant learning how to run, hula hoop, and jump better than everyone else. At 15, that meant being the smartest girl in my class and studying harder than everyone else. At 18, it meant having 18-hour days every day, taking 19 credits every semester at university, working 30 hours a week, and going out "for fun."

By 20, I graduated, got a job, moved to the other side of the planet, and decided I was going to be the best in my career. I planned to workfor a few years, pick a niche, get a Master’s degree, write research papers, and eventually discover something groundbreaking in language education. I just needed to put in my 10,000 hours to get there.

Well, I am now sitting at that 10,000-hour mark. I never got that Master’s degree—though it still lingers in the back of my mind. I still don’t know what I’m doing with my career nearly seven years later. I am by no means the best at my job. Not only that, but I’ve held several jobs since then, including teacher, tutor, caterer, plant shop worker, editor, failed freelancer, and being totally unemployed.

But while I was chasing the "best" title, I was quietly becoming someone even better. I discovered that I am really good at creating things. Pottery is a true passion I found while taking a community art class in the middle of my unemployment. Making clothes is something I always come back to, and after 10 years, I can make beautiful garments. I have signature dishes I can throw together for a dinner party at a moment’s notice. I know how to curate a home that feels safe and reflects who I am. I can make anything—a sweater, a pot, a book, a sculpture. I know how to fix things. I learned a language that once felt impossible, and now I’m onto my third. I can travel anywhere, by myself, and have a good time.

I didn’t know that my younger self would grow up and learn to do all these things—and learn to do them well. I wish I could tell my 20-year-old self that a career will not define her existence and that it’s okay to change her mind (and plans).

I am thankful for the people along the way who taught me, encouraged me, and picked me up when I wanted to give up. The neighbor who encouraged my teaching career, a former teacher himself. The coworker from the plant shop who patiently taught me the names and care of hundreds of plants. The strangers from my travels who helped me navigate public transportation or recommended the best local restaurants. The singular friend who listens to me cry on the phone when something isn’t working out or when I have a new idea I need to share.

I hope that I can be that person for someone in the future—to encourage, inspire, or simply listen. Because no one gets to 10,000 hours alone.