Endless Pathways

Discovering the nonlinear future through humbling experiences.

Life isn’t supposed to go the way you want, it may take years to discover it. // Photo via Pinterest

My value was a reflection of my grades; whether I was worthy of good things depended on two numbers that dictated how well I treated myself, how much I liked myself, and how successful I would become in the future. If that number started with any digit other than 9, I would convince myself that I was stupid, lazy, and deserved to be looked down upon because nothing in my life was a bigger danger to my future other than low grades. Studying and academics were my second religion, the marks I achieved being my judgment day and the future being my heaven or hell. 

I wanted to go to medical school. I wanted to become a doctor and care for people with the knowledge that I acquired by working hard and by doing what was so familiar to me: studying. And so, I volunteered and worked in hospitals, clinics, and care centres where I quickly learned that I really was passionate about my goal. Seeing the smiles of patients and being able to comfort them through treatment options was worth all those years of studying. It felt even more worth it when an older patient made sure to tell me that I would be an amazing doctor when I grew older, or when a family thanked me, simply for my presence when shadowing a doctor. What a smart kid I was. I knew what I wanted to do while others continued to struggle even into late adulthood; I was proud of myself. I knew my motives and I knew my purpose in life.

Motives and purposes are not solid. In fact, they’re fluid, flexible, and most importantly, easily influenced—whether it be positively or negatively. I was too stubborn and sure of myself that I failed to realize this fact, and decidedly centred my whole purpose in life to go to medical school. Little did I know that this was even more of a danger to my future than bad grades, especially at such a young age.

As I grew and progressed in high school, I felt eyes on me. I felt like eyes were on everyone. Not from one particular person, but from the eyes of many people. Eyes that stared upon others and those same eyes were also being examined—if you wanted to do well, you were going to be watched by everyone else. That was, when the solid motives and purpose I had began to crack, I could feel the clear future I had envisioned for myself becoming blurred. I ignored it, the only person I had my eyes on was myself—I wasn’t concerned about anyone else and what their purpose was. But it was becoming harder and harder to ignore. I could feel even more eyes on me; my friends’ intentions became more clear, family became more curious, and I was becoming more anxious. Going to medical school was this extraordinary thing that only extraordinary people could do, and I needed to prove I was extraordinary. But my motives were beginning to change, they were beginning to become less related to my initial purpose.

Photo via Pinterest

I had to go to medical school to help others. I had to go to medical school to share my knowledge with others. I had to go to medical school to do what I was best at: studying and academics. I had to go to medical school to prove that I was smart enough. I had to go to medical school to get the eyes off of me, to get them to finally stop watching. I had to go to medical school to reassure myself I was enough. I had to go to medical school so that they would know I’m enough. I had to go to medical school because it was the only way my life would have meaning.

I got into university and I was beyond ecstatic, becoming a step closer to my goal and my purpose. I thought all those eyes would move away from me. But now, they were even more focused on me. It made me so much more anxious, because now I started hearing whispers. Whispers about how I wouldn’t make it to where I wanted to be because of how difficult my future studies would become, and that I would in fact, become worse. Everything would just go downhill from here. Forgetting about my goal is ideal because it would be difficult for me to achieve any goal at all.

That couldn’t happen, there was only one way for me. I didn’t even want to think about what would happen if I didn’t achieve my goal. I had to get into medical school. 

I became more anxious and it became even worse when a stubborn student with a set routine in place was forced to learn from home. I couldn’t let it stop me, I had to get into medical school. All this suffering would be for nothing, there was no other option for me and no other way either. This was what I thought for so long and it would continue to be the way I think in the near future.

That was until I actually attended university. 

There were no more eyes on me, in fact everyone was too busy looking at themselves to worry about anyone else. There were no whispers, other than the ones that talked about where the best study spots were on campus. I didn’t feel like I had to prove myself to anyone or show certain people that I was able to achieve things, and that’s what began to initiate the skepticism I had around my purpose and motives. This was my epiphany.

Things were taught so in-depth by people who were passionate about what they were talking about—something they were able to continue to do for hours without getting sick of it. They told their life stories and explained how their plans changed throughout their education. It was strange discovering successful individuals who didn’t have firm motives or a specific goal in their educational experience—they simply did what they liked and enjoyed. I began to reflect on what I liked. It should have been human physiology given that I wanted to go to medical school so bad—but I wasn’t sure if that was what I liked the most. Especially now that I was discovering more subjects and fields within science, there were just too many things I liked. More skepticism.

It was hard—university was extremely hard. My grades weren’t terrible, but not all of them would have been acceptable by my prior standards. Although I did struggle with this in my first year, it was almost a relief when I was able to look at a lower grade and not doubt my worth and value as a person. At this point, I realized how harmful and naïve my past views on school and academia were. My value wasn’t based on a two-digit number nor was my future. I didn’t only have the option to go to medical school.

Photo via Pinterest

I have now discovered the many different pathways of science and look up to my professors and teaching assistants for their passion in their field. I don’t want to prove myself to anyone, and I want to be passionate in the things I do. I want to enjoy it. By limiting myself to one thing, I wasn’t letting myself grow and discover the world beyond one specific goal that I had lost sight of. I wasn’t able to discover the endless pathways awaiting me.

Sajda Zahir

When Sajda’s not trying to reteach herself the stages of cell division for the 100th time, she usually spends her time reading romance and fantasy, listening to the Weeknd, and writing short stories.

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