Five years ago I made a decision to drastically change the course of my life. The finals days of my third year of college found me confused, depressed, lost, and easily breakable. The opinions of others, society, family members, and my parents controlled my emotions and set expectations that I failed time and time again to the point where I felt akin to a useless piece of nothing. My self-esteem floated in the toilet, my heart sang dirges for my motivation’s funeral, and passion had yet to find entry into my mind. I cried to sleep, avoided people and most social events, and rejected reality and living through the consumption of unhealthy amounts of anime and manga. While others drank or smoked to deal with their problems, I completed a season of Bleach or Death Note in one sitting. I was an emotional wreck who haunted the basement of the school library desperately searching for direction in General Chemistry textbooks. Thankfully, enlightenment came after I gawked at an acid-base equilibrium problem for two straight hours. Right before my eyes the words jumbled and rearranged themselves into a message: What the f@$% are you doing?
|The secrets are in the book.|
“Hating existence,” came my swift reply. Pain, misery, fatigue, zero inspiration, and all things in between pulled at my arms and legs and I was sick of it. Fed up. Done. No more. I had little to no desire to become a doctor. This program downloaded to my brain at an impressionable young age was now defunct and uninstalled. I should’ve gotten the message in high school when I fainted while shadowing a doctor who showed me an old patient with a tube stuck in his trachea. The kind, gentle doctor talked and talked. My eyes stared at the clear plastic stick in the patient’s throat, the room swirled, lightheadedness followed… PLOP! Down to the ground I went. I had too much respect for the profession of medicine to pursue it only for money, prestige, and my parent’s desires. It spat at my values of integrity and genuine service. I yearned to help humanity, but I would do so through another path. In the basement of that library, I fortunately knew what that path was but ignored it because I was afraid of what my parents would think.
How about you? Ever had an experience similar to mine? Please share!
My story continues tomorrow.
Thanks for reading!