Someone else’s dream

It took the earth 24 rounds around the sun for me to realize that I need to stop seeking people’s approval. That I need to start thinking and living for myself. That it’s okay if I make a mistake. It’s okay if I’m not perfect in every single thing that I do in life. That it’s ok for me to be human and act like one.

I’ve been too afraid to be wrong that I’ve missed so many opportunities life had to offer. I regret every second, every minute that I let fear control me like a puppet on strings. I regret it so bad that those same moments replay in my mind as nightmares when I’m asleep. But there’s comfort in knowing that I’m here. That I made it in one piece, or maybe in a thousand. But I’m still here. Breathing. Living. Existing. That I still have a chance to change things that are yet to happen in the future. The first step to solving a problem is to accept you have one. And mine is fear. It’s like instead of blood, fear pumps through my veins and clogs into my heart.

Life has so much to offer, but we don’t take those offers because we’re afraid that there might be a catch. That maybe if we take life’s offer life might take something from us in return. But why does that have to be a bad thing? Why is giving seen as something bad compared to receiving.

In order for you to gain something in life you have to first give. You must learn how to let go and how to surrender. I learned that when I was studying biophysical chemistry in college. I was holding onto a dream that wasn’t mine. A dream that everyone else had seen for me. A dream that I couldn’t see.

It was during a lecture on quantum mechanics that I realized I was stressing for all the wrong reasons. These tiny particle spinning around in circles, chasing each other did not put in the effort for me to be miserable. If electrons did as they pleased then why couldn’t I? The position of electrons depended on probability… wasn’t my life the same.

In that class I didn’t learn formulas or theories or hypothesis or names of scientists, I learned that suffering was inevitable. No matter what career pathway I choose in life I was bound to trip, bound to fall, bound to get hurt. But I also learned that I could choose my own suffering. I could choose how to fall and how to rise. How to tend to my own wounds.

Med school, being a doctor- as prestigious as it sounds wasn’t meant for me. Yes the title of Dr. is beautiful but the pathway that leads to it isn’t. That’s not the type of suffering I can deal with. I would most likely go crazy. Even if I do make it through med school, I know I’ll be miserable as a physician.

The probability of me being a successful writer is 1 out of a million and the odd that I would be that successful is low. But its something I can live with. I may not be making a shit tons of money and I may not have a Dr. label in front of my name. I might have to do part time jobs like I’m doing right now. I’ll have to face constant rejections. Maybe even cry rivers. But its something I can live with. Will I regret it? I don’t know? I’ll update y’all in a another ten years to let y’all know.