I would rather die.

"I can't live out my days as that person! That man is bereft of passion… and IMAGINATION! That is not who I am!" — Picard

I have watched a pathological amount of Star Trek this year.

I firmly believe that all media you binge-consume counts toward something positive eventually. There’s a reason you’re drawn to it. Especially while paralyzed on the couch during a depressive episode.

Then, there’s the media that immediately changes your life.

This spring, it was Star Trek: The Next Generation, season 6, episode 13: Tapestry.

(SPOILERS AHEAD, obviously.)

It’s a well-known, fan-favorite TNG episode. I had seen it before, but like so much media, it didn’t really stick or feel relatable until I hit a point in life where I got it.

The premise, from IMDB:

“When Captain Picard's artificial heart fails, he is offered the rare opportunity to go back in time and set right the mistake that led to his demise.”

He does set right the mistake — but by doing so, changes the course of the rest of his life, to the point that he never becomes a captain. Instead, he becomes a timid, insignificant science officer with no chance of fulfilling a greater purpose.

After experiencing that devastating alternate timeline, Picard decides he would rather die than live that life.

He reclaims the original choice he made as a cadet that would mean his death in the present. As a captain.

As he is stabbed through the heart (again), he laughs, relieved.

I muttered out loud: “Would rather fuckin die.”

Then louder:

“I would rather fucking die!”

Clarity landed in my body like every cell had turned over at once.

Then I began unraveling why I saw myself so deeply in that choice.

At the time, I was depressed, broke, resigned to a full-time job search, and procrastinating on it.

Because when it came down to following the long road of landing a decent job, then answering to a boss and larger company culture again…

vs. the harder road of going it alone to build something from nothing in the vast abyss of the internet…

I, too, would rather fucking die than spend the rest of my career not getting to call my own shots.

In that moment, I realized that the “lesson” of the episode isn’t simply “the choices you make determine the person you become.”

It’s more specifically: “the RISKS that you take determine the person you become.”

And at that moment, I had been WALLOWING in regret over the risks I’d taken.

I was worried that the last 3 years in the online business world were just some misguided misadventure, that I did it to myself, that I signed up for and deserved every minute of money stress over the last year, that I was delusional and irresponsible, and now I had to “grow up” and get a real job again.

How much time did I waste, while my peers got well into six-figure salaries?

I had finally accepted that I needed A Job, and was taking steps toward it. Portfolio updates, research, contacts, finding intros.

The next step — where I was procrastinating — was negotiating with myself: what were my needs, and which could I reasonably ask for?

Which parts of the life I’ve built, the strengths and skills I’ve cultivated, were worth putting in storage? Which could be salvaged and recycled into a form that made sense for a traditional job?

Like Picard, I was thinking a lot about how much better off I’d be if I had avoided getting stabbed through the heart (financially).

I thought I should have held onto old contacts longer, sought out more freelance work, set better boundaries with agency clients so I didn’t burn out. I shouldn’t have been so resentful. I should have sent them holiday gifts.

I should have [insert variable here] so I wouldn’t have ended up here, feeling like a dramatically massive failure.

But “shoulding myself” wasn’t going to change the past. And if I could change the past and prevent it all, would I, really?

At the beginning of my career, I only understood “success” as being financially comfortable… but fully obligated to bosses, uninspired, and dissatisfied with my life overall.

So, what did I have to lose by striking out on my own besides ~boring~ stability? What did Picard have to lose by getting in a bar fight with an aggro alien?

On my couch three years later, I had lost A LOT. My savings, my sanity. My heart.

But that comfortable-stable definition of “success,” and the trajectory it would have put me on, is much like how Picard imagined not getting stabbed in a bar fight.

It would have meant survival, but not in the way I actually want to live my life.

Continuing with a full-time agency career is my "timid science officer" alternate timeline. I would never have learned to take initiative without someone else’s permission, and be forever dissatisfied with having to work my way up through someone else's game.

In fact, when I imagine myself taking a full time job, I would probably be EXACTLY like Picard — trying to talk Riker into putting him on the command track extremely late in his career and coming off as bonkers delusional.

It’s not “late” for me, but I know I’d try to dig my fingers into account management, new business, operations, and other pies where they don’t belong… and be left fuming.

I already knew deep down that getting a full time job again, however “good” of a fit it was, would be a massive sacrifice and a means to an end: a consistent paycheck.

Unfortunately, I’ve never, ever been a “means to an end” kinda girl.

It may be a glaring personality flaw to some, but I can ONLY spend the majority of my waking hours working on and towards things I truly care about.

Even if it kills me.

Because I would rather die.

I just needed an extra kick to remember that what I have spent the last 3 years of my life on, however much pain it has brought me, HAS been worthwhile, and I wouldn’t give up the person I have become for anything.

It fucking sucked, but I had to lose everything in order to rekindle my ability to adapt and fight for what I TRULY wanted — and nothing less.

(And once I did, work started coming in again.)

Now, about 6 months later and BUSY, I am so grateful to my past self for holding the line, returning to my own vision of success, and getting back to work.

The next time you feel guilty about bingeing TV or scrolling or whatever YOU can stand to do in the midst of collapse… know that you’re exactly where you need to be.

I hope your Tapestry finds you, too.