If any of you follow me on twitter, youâll know that at the beginning of this month, I decided to quit the MCAT and stop pursuing medical school.
Becoming a doctor is something Iâve worked towards since I was 5 years old. âDo you want to be a lawyer or doctor?â my traditional Asian parents had asked. And I told them, doctor, because I didnât want to argue with people. Iâd much rather heal them. I knew that about myself, at least, even then.
But the thing is, being a doctor was never my idea, and Iâve struggled with this my whole life. As the eldest child of a 1st generation immigrant family, I wanted to make my parents proud. I wanted to pay them back for all the sacrifices theyâve made for me. I always felt guilty and ashamed and terrified whenever I didnât get good grades or felt doubt about doing what I thought they expected of me.
So I built my life and my aspirations around my parents. I told myself that was okay. I still do think that my mindset about that was never wrong, but it was that mindset that ultimately crippled me.
Because if Iâm really honest to myself, honest to whatever God out there in the universe, what I really want to do in life, is write.
Writing is the one thing Iâve ever done purely for myself. Writing is what makes me get up in the mornings and stay up at night. Writing is what makes me forget time and hardships. Writing is what makes me happy, even when thereâs a sentence or word that keeps giving me grief. I like that struggle. I love surpassing it. I love words and phrases and how they make me feel. I love writing words and phrases that make other people feel.
I wish I had the backbone when I was younger and told myself I couldâve pursued whatever I wanted, as long as I could make a living for myself and give back to my parents gradually. Foolishly, desperately, I convinced myself I had to be a doctor. And now, after casting that entire aspect of my life away, Iâm struggling to pick myself together.Â
To be honest, itâs been really, really hard. Iâm trying to keep my spirits up, but most days itâs hard to get out of bed, and some days itâs even hard to write. My parents are beyond disappointed and ashamed of me. Iâve broken their hearts and I canât blame them. Iâve broken mine too. Iâm just trying my best to heal as quickly as possible.
My dream, my real dream, is to publish a book someday. An original story that hopefully people will read. Maybe Iâve gone crazy thinking this is something I can achieve. Maybe it will never come true. But at least I can tell myself that I tried. I tried to live my own life. I tried I tried I tried.Â
Whatever it is you dream of in life, follow it. Please. No matter what!! Donât be like me and put it off. Donât pretend to be someone youâre not.Â
It hurts more than anything else in the world.