On Letting Go of Dreams

At four years old, I ecstatically exclaimed to my mom that I wanted to be a doctor. I also had a strong interest in stand-up comedy, grocery bagging and delivering mail; however the mention of the word “doctor” alone was enough.

My family was ecstatic.

My grandfather, a family practice physician himself, was the most excited of all. With a family full of artsy types, he was thrilled to finally have someone to follow in his footsteps, someone who he could teach all of his tricks and pass down his legacy.

My parents fueled my interest by getting me doctor play sets and medical books. They’d have conversations with their young daughter about what type of doctor I wanted to be, what medical school I’d end up in, and how I was going to make tons of money. By the age of nine, I had my very own stethoscope, learned the art of stitching, and owned several physiology books. By then, I’d also built this fantasy world in my head, a future filled with a large house, my own private practice, and a plenty of trips to Disney World.

Me in my doctor Halloween costume- age 7

I really didn't understand what being a doctor meant; I did know, however, that I loved pleasing my family, and I loved the idea of helping people. Medicine just seemed like the right fit.

I stuck with this dream all the way through college and until I graduated, when something just clicked. This wasn't for me.

The truth is I’d had my doubts from the very first C I had gotten in Organic Chemistry. I was surrounded by a flurry of people much more intelligent than me (or so I thought), with much greater drive, who actually understood the material. I had trouble staying on target with my studies, didn’t understand the material very well, and continually struggled to drudge through the pages and pages of snooze-worthy Orgo notes as I studied for exams. Biochemistry was an even bigger mess, including frequent panic attacks at the mere thought of the class. It should have been a hint when, one summer, I shadowed an endocrinologist, and instead of feeling pumped and motivated to read all of the books he gave me and gain some insight into the field, I found myself slumped in my seat, eyes glossing over as I stared at the pages of cell cultures that I couldn’t give a shit about.

Studying for the MCAT was the final straw. Between the skyscraper of books and drudgeries of trying to keep myself focused while reviewing physics, I realized that my heart just wasn’t in it. Instead of studying for the MCAT, I dropped my books and decided to enjoy my summer with my family (and watch the entire 7 seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer).

I don’t regret my decision for a minute.

Since then, I’ve never been more confused about my future. I applied for graduate school in Public Health, but even then, I’m not sure what I want to do with my life. Once I dropped this elusive dream of medical school, a flood of doors began to open up for me, and I began to explore the possibilities in front of me.

I could work at the CDC, or be a writer, teacher, or nutritionist. I had shut off all of these options before, but now, I can finally explore who I am as a person. I can figure out what makes me tick.

It’s not about achieving some intangible dream; it’s about exploring who I am.

I think dreams are a wonderful thing. For me, my dream of becoming a doctor made me more motivated in school, and it gave me something to look forward to in the future. It’s when that dream gains a life of its own, when achieving this dream becomes your sole purpose in life, regardless of how it makes you feel or how it’s impacting you, that there’s a problem. For me, my fantasy had taken a sour note when I reached college and realized what it meant to be a doctor and that I wasn’t cut out for a career in medicine. And so I struggled to maintain hold of my dream, while sacrificing my sanity in the process- even though I wasn’t happy, wasn’t very good at the subjects, and didn’t really enjoy it as much as I thought I would.

Sometimes, persistence pays off, but in my case, letting go was the best option. As my grandmother (who interestingly enough, never wanted me to become a doctor) has told me, “The child in you grew up.”

I’m sure there are plenty of doctors out there who dreamed of becoming physicians as children (my grandfather is one of them), and many more children right now who will make phenomenal physicians in the future. Hey, maybe one day I’ll even decide to go to medical school and finish what I started.

But for right now, I couldn’t be more thrilled to not be in their shoes.