I’ve said over and over that I want this even if it kills me.  Now the question that beckons in the back of mind is why would I want anything to kill me? What was it that I was seeking that I was willing to “die” for it? I don’t want the journey to medical school to be a harsh one.  It should not kill any part of me, but the exact opposite should take place. For the last few years, I’ve been very conscious of all the activities and projects that I accept. I value the experience and the growth that comes from each activity and project. I often ask have I grown as result? Did I have a positive impact on the people that I interacted with? If not, how can I make it better. 

Everyday I checked my email waiting for the congratulatory email about my acceptance to medical school. If it was not in my mailbox, it must be in my spam. This process went on for about 4 weeks. My behavior was the same when I was waiting for the secondary application and the interview invitations. For almost two months, I was glued to both my laptop and phone. I wanted to demonstrate that I had complete faith that I was getting into medical school. I purchased the best suite and shoes that I could find, even though I am not a suit or heels kind of girl. I prefer a cozy sweater, jeans, and a pair of warm fuzzy boots. All three at once and I’m a happy camper. I was prepped and drilled for interview day like it was my last marathon on earth. Deep inside of me, I wondered would they really see me? Will the words that I’ve been told to say really convey the true me. The little girl that has dreamed of being a physician since the age of three years old. I always saw physicians as people that made things better. They investigate, searched, prodded and with a snap of a finger you’re all better. At five, I told my dad that I would be doctor and make everyone better. I didn’t know much at that age, but I knew that it was my destiny. As I grew, my reasons for starting this journey matured. I imagined being a physician meant more than applying what I would be learning in medical school and residency. It meant becoming an advocate, dismantling policies and systems that did not benefit the patient, building communities that cultivate health and contributing to research. Each year as I grew, layer upon layer was added. Now at this moment, I view physicians as catalysts for healing and deliverers of compassionate care and counseling. The patient is always much more than what we see. 

In high school and college, I focused on being my best self and putting my best self forward. I served whomever I could serve. If there was a call for help, I made sure I was there, whether stranger, family, patient or friend. What I didn’t realize was that my giving and self-sacrificial nature would potentially lead to me becoming undone.  I gave of myself because I believed I had an unlimited supply of myself and because I truly found joy and delight in these acts. In each and every act I found a “home”. A home of myself that included kindness, gentleness and peacefulness. Through these acts I discovered the kind of physician that I desired to be: a humane one. I was finally going to have the opportunity to serve the underserved, expand my knowledge about medicine, begin to understand the nature of why disparities arise and most importantly bask in the joy of learning all again, my first love.  This was what my interview was supposed to be like- me discussing my passion.

I was so nervous during my interview and honestly did not feel like myself. This was because I was not showing up as myself. I was agonizing over my hear. Was it straight enough? I was worried about about my suit. Did I get all the wrinkles out? I was silently praying that I did not stutter or ramble while in the interview. Nervous habit. What my interviewer did not know was that morning my mom, who is bipolar, had one of her manic episodes. She was yelling and hurling the most horrible words at me. As a result, I argued with both my parents. The week before my father had been hounding me for money and I was upset because I just finished paying my part of the rent. He was upset because I was unable to give him any money. He made that very clear that morning. The truth is I didn’t have anything to give. The clothes, my hair, coat and jewelry were all purchased with credit cards. I was already doubting myself by the time I made it out of my apartment. I took a cab to the interview and I cried the entire ride.

This was was a huge turning point for me. I patted myself on the back for showing up to the interview anyway, being strong. Was this me being strong though? Or was it me failing to see the strength in my vulnerability and embracing it. In hindsight, I probably should have rescheduled the interview. Weeks later I received a rejection letter and I was devastated. It was like my dream vanished right before my eyes.  A good friend of mine held me and said delay does not mean denial.  I reflected on what I could have done differently. With time, I have cultivated practices that enhance my self-care and allow me to put my best and most authentic self forward. Sometimes this translates into saying No, rescheduling appointments, honoring what I am feeling, making time for family & friends, walking my dog, reading or whatever it is I need at the moment. As a future physician, I will be required to show up for my patients, but how can I do that if I lack the ability to show up for myself. After that day, I’ve started to show up for myself and more. I am looking forward to doing the same for my future patients, friends, and colleagues.