You see it all the time in high school: you have the theater geeks, or the music nerds, or the artistic freaks, and then you have the rest of the school. And, there are all these slightly rude terms that really at the end of the day mean the same thing: individuals who are genuinely invigorated by the arts and are not afraid to show it. I was a theater geek to the core, and in my heart I was convinced that musical theater was how I wanted to spend my life.

When I got to college and started pursuing my Bachelors of Music in Musical Theater, I thought I knew exactly what I wanted and where my life was headed. I was wrong.

I got to college and soon enough I got a blazing slap to the face that not only did I not want to do Musical Theater, but I also had no interest in pursuing any sort of music degree. This realization broke my heart. Realizing that I didn’t want to perform, a dream I had since I was a toddler, was incredibly hard to face. What was even more difficult was explaining it to the people around me. While breaking the news to my Musical Theater advisor I sobbed. While telling my family, I sobbed. But after I finished the mourning phase, the excess paperwork, and the redundant meetings with administrators, I emerged happier, less anxious, and more willing to work hard. Changing my major was a major step in my life and it taught me some important lessons.

First, it’s okay to give up your childhood dreams. Starting in grade school, people ask us what we want to do when we grow up. However, at the ripe age of six-years-old, our concept of the potential job market is quite limited. As such, it does not mean that your childhood dream is necessarily the best path for the present version of yourself. If this were the case, we’d have a society of firemen and princesses, when in reality we need politicians and bankers to thrive. Giving up your childhood dream isn’t settling; it’s learning about options a younger version of you didn’t know existed.

Being a “normie” does not mean you’re boring. Music majors frequently refer to anyone not involved in the arts as a “normie," which translates to a slightly negative term for a normal person. But frankly, this term is just false. What you study doesn’t necessarily mean that you’re a more or less exciting person, nor does it mean that your major is more or less superior. Being a “normie” is really no different than being a Musical Theater major. The only difference is you have the opportunity to interact with a more diverse community of other "normies."

Changing your major isn’t quitting. Rationalizing this concept was especially difficult for me. In music especially, there is an unreal pressure to work so hard you cannot possibly fail. As a result, those who continue to pursue music when others drop out view this decision as giving up. It took a long time for me to realize that just because I didn’t want to do music professionally didn’t mean I wasn’t talented, but it meant that I wasn’t supposed to pursue it in the first place.

Being passionate about something practical is a possibility. Changing my major was especially difficult because the concept of loving something and being able to make a lucrative career out of it seemed so foreign. During my time in music, I continually was concerned about my ability to do what I loved and thrive financially, when in reality it is completely possible to be passionate about a career that is secure. Passion is not synonymous with poverty.

Finally, you can be passionate about more than one thing. Music will always be my first love, but like all first loves, they generally come to an end. Giving up music as my principal passion enabled me to become more passionate about media studies, politics, and numerous other things. What it did not do, however, was diminish my love for music or the arts.

Giving up my childhood dream was the most empowering decision I made for myself, and by far the most rewarding. Learning that dreams can evolve was something a truly liberating experience in my life.