I have been living in denial for years, while thinking to myself:
“Nooo, I´m not really an architect… I could stop any time if I wanted to, and do something completely different with my life. I am not living and breathing for architecture. I could throw it all away in a heartbeat; – the tingling sensation on seeing a beautiful piece of architecture, – the entoxicating feeling of making ideas come to life on paper, – the compelling need to work both night and day on a project near completion. It is not really a part of who I am. I have it under control, and I could quit if I wanted to.”
I´ve been fooling myself whith this lie for years, looking for evidence to support it. Such as how I felt completely out of place at a-school; self concious about how I was different than everybody else. Now I realize that feeling different is just part of the disease…
Well, I´ve kept this hidden in the closet long enough. It is time to step forward and face the fact – that I am an architect, heart and soul. Even though I will probably never make the cover of AD (Architectural Digest) or AR (Architectural Review) or even the national variants (Arkitektur N), I love working as an architect, and I have finally decided it is nothing to be ashamed of.
There, I´ve said it! Phew, what a relief. The cat´s out of the bag.
Now I can stop wasting energy wondering whether or not I am cut out for this. Perhaps I was really meant to be a hairdresser (not bloody likely), a florist, a writer (which I sorta am), a housekeeper (which I definitely am, albeit not a very good one), or an astronaut?
Certainly, I beleive there are other professions I could have had, with potential success too, but the speculation is pointless. I am better off owning up to the fact that, for better or worse, I am an architect.