When I was a kid people always told me I should be a writer but I didn't think of "writer" as a job (turns out it is, since that is in fact what I am). When asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, I said teacher for a while. In junior high that changed to architect. I was fascinated by houses and house plans. This interest was tightly coupled with a fantasy about living in a bigger house, I admit -- not that our house was small, but I aspired toward opulence at that age. I distinctly remember the day my mom told me that being an architect involved a lot of math. We were in her car, waiting in line at the bank. That didn't sound romantic and artistic to me and it killed the fantasy. Later, in high school, I wanted to be a psychiatrist, though I was on the fence about medical school (gross anatomy? gross). My dad pushed me off it. He's a doctor and wouldn't wish that fate on anyone.
If I was truly passionate about either career path I guess I wouldn't have been dissuaded. But I wonder why I was so turned off by the idea of effort. I'm not even bad at math, or I wasn't, at least, when I had to do it all the time. Any real job is harder than the fantasy, right?
Did you always want to be what you are?