I'll (24m) begin with a backstory to give context to my guilt: (apologies for the rant)
I come from a long line of extremely hardworking people. Below, I'll give a background on a few. My grandfather was born into a poor farming family in the mountains of Greece. He had to stop going to school in 4th grade because he didn't have shoes, and it would be infeasible for him to walk 6 miles to school every day while tearing his feet up on rocks, so he herded sheep for his family and helped however he could on the farm. When he left Greece, he was 22 years old. After completing his mandatory military service, he boarded a ship along with his 8 brothers and set sail to Canada. He had 5 dollars in his pocket, didn't speak a word of English or French, and had very little formal education. He did, however, have enormous ambition and an unbreakable spirit. When he arrived in Canada, he worked on the trans-Canadian railroad for about a year as a laborer. After that, he moved to a major city, worked as a waiter, opened a café, then a supermarket, then a restaurant. That restaurant was in operation for 40 years, and was one of the most successful and well renowned restaurants in the city. Athletes, celebrities, and politicians dined at his tables. He married my grandmother and had three children, who he was able to send to college in America and pay for in full. He died of lung cancer at the age of 71.
My mother was born in Iran in the mid 1960s. When she was a teenager in 1979, the Iranian Revolution broke out. As a leftist, my mother did not comply with the regime and took part in protests, refused to attend school under the new regime-appointed teachers, and risked her life writing leftist newspapers and handing them out in the streets of Tehran. Before the revolution started, she had dreams of becoming a doctor. With the new chauvinistic, totalitarian government making that dream impossible for her, she escaped Iran in 1983 at the age of 19. She couch-surfed with friends and distant relatives in Sweden and Switzerland for a year, working in restaurants for 12 hours a day to pay her way before getting accepted to attend university in America on a full scholarship. At school, she worked 7 days a week in the university mail room to pay for her shoebox apartment and food. Fast forward some years, and she achieved her dream of becoming a doctor. She met my father at university and eventually they married.
My parents went through some serious struggles after they graduated from university. They were wrongfully sued for a bogus malpractice case and lost almost everything they had. Years later, it turned out the person who sued them was a con artist and made a career out of suing people. After years of hard work (7 days a week), my parents were able to pay their way out of debt. I was a child during the bulk of their financial struggles, but I never felt it. They were wonderful, supportive parents and provided my sister and I with what I believe was a fantastic childhood. Eventually, they were able to send both of us to university, paying in full for our tuition which I am extremely grateful for and recognize my privilege.
Now to me. I have always had a strong work ethic. I worked summer jobs from age 14 and spent most of my teen years training tirelessly for my sport. I was able to earn a partial scholarship and play my sport at the Division-1 level in university, which I also worked odd jobs at for my four years.
I'm now 24, working my first job out of college, and I HATE it. I find myself lacking motivation so much at times that I end up just staring at my computer screen for 2 hours at a time. I'm extremely productive for short spans in the day and actually end up getting more than I need to done, but it is genuinely mind numbingly painful to do. I've thought about quitting and getting a different job so many times, but I have extreme guilt over these feelings because I can't help but think about what my grandparents and parents did to get me to this point. I almost feel as though my lack of motivation and hatred for this job is letting them all down. I feel as though its worth noting that this guilt is purely coming from myself. My parents, wife, and family are all very supportive of me and never make me feel guilty about my distaste for this job, which I've candidly expressed to them. The guilt is so intense that at times I almost feel like a complete failure. Do my feelings make sense/can anyone relate to this? In reality, I think I'll probably end up sticking with this shitty job for a year for my resume's sake, and move onto something I feel more passionate about next year. If you made it through this, thank you for reading!