The other day I realized that it had been a really long time since I’d dredged up the old thoughts about my choice to leave medical school. Which is no small thing, considering that a little over four years ago it was all I thought about. What I wanted more than anything back then was a clear answer, and I thought if I only mulled it over long enough, talked to enough friends over coffee, spent enough time on a therapist’s couch, that I would come up with The Correct Thing To Do. But every night as I lay in bed trying to make my mind fade to black, the resounding refrain was always I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know.
My brainstuffs seem to be jammed with a different set of trappings now. There isn’t one overwhelming, looming question clogging up my forward momentum, it’s more like normal bouncing around of little bits of regular old life stuff like am I’m raising my kids well or will we ever be out of debt. (Answer: nope.) But the one thing that seems to have quelled a bit is the fear that going to medical school in the first place was a mistake. Maybe I should have stayed—who knows? I’ll never see the life I gave up by walking away. What I can see is the life I’ve chosen now, after deciding to leave. Every passing year has given me a multitude of things for which to be immensely grateful, including a girl, a new place to live, and an amazing job. Those things weigh mighty heavy when measured against a stack of imagined what ifs of a road not taken.
And I imagine the weight of that goodness will only increase and multiply as the days go forward. Because there is so, so much more to come.
Music: So Let Us Create by Jukebox the Ghost