I should be studying right now. I have a renal exam in less than 24 hours, but I haven’t been able to get some things off my mind. And, of course, when I can’t do that, I write.
The last couple of weeks of medical school has been draining. I’ve taken on a lot, and though I know nothing in nature goes wasted, I find myself craving stillness. Now, I love medical school but it is such an interesting existence I am still trying to navigate.
“What I am doing you do not understand now, but afterward you will understand.”
–John 13:7 English Standard Version
I have been thinking a lot about the past versions of myself (like the high school self, college self, and graduate school self). I quantify my “selves” in relation to my phases of education, and lately, I have been thinking a lot about my Cleveland self.
I adore this self because it was the first time I allowed myself to show up authentically without judgment. I tell my friends that being stuck inside your home really helps you figure out who you are and want to be. That version of me went to yoga consistently, was quiet in school, focused on studying, had a mini home garden, went on her walks in the nearby park, taught preschool, and went to her coffee shop that was a seven-minute walk from her quaint little (sometimes messy) townhouse.
The Cleveland version of me reminds me of the Paris version of me, the version of me I love most. She feels no weight of expectation and is unapologetically herself. No performance. Just me.
This present version of me, the medical school version, seems like she’s trying to figure out a lot in this season. This version of me is being pulled in all directions of who I know I am, who I think I want to be, who everyone needs me to be, and who they want me to be. Every action feels judged. Every minute of the day is scrutinized by questions like, “Is this an efficient and effective use of time?”
The variables are different in this season of life and I know every good scientist knows you can only compare studies if the conditions are the same. But I can’t help but miss the Cleveland version of me. Perhaps it is hindsight but I long for the quietness, the stillness, and the digestible sense of the unknown.
It if funny because while walking to yoga yesterday, I thought, “There is a future version of you that will look back on this time and think the same things.” That is probably true, but right now, I am still trying to figure out how to show up to this version of me in truth.
The thing about medical school is that it is the perfect formula to lose yourself. From the culture to the systems in place, it is an inevitable fight to clench on to your humanness for dear life. Choosing yourself, which is incredibly necessary to fill your cup before pouring it out to others, feels selfish—the irony. But if you don’t, you get tired. You get burnt out.
I am learning a lot about this version of me–how she leads, how she chooses to serve, and her need for rest. I am understanding the incredible importance of knowing your values as well as the need to be grounded, reminding yourself that you are not a machine but a human.
So I am sitting here, writing at a coffee shop, trying to remind myself that I am human. Now this coffee shop isn’t a seven-minute walk, and I don’t hear the stressed undergraduate students talking through homework. There are no sirens from ambulances, no soft music coming from the music institute right by my townhouse. However, it is a start in helping me feel invited to this new version of myself.
Before I left to go to the coffee shop, I put on my favorite raincoat that got its share of wear in Cleveland, the one that too made its way through the cobblestone streets of Paris. I looked in the mirror with that raincoat on and realized that those past versions of me are not gone.
They are just evolving. I am evolving.
We are always right where we are supposed to be. Who we are now is a beautiful, meticulous evolution of the version we used to be because we learned, changed, grew, and loss. The past versions of who we were have made space for this present version. Here in this body, in this version, in this space, in this time, and in this place, you, too, will find a home. Give it some time.
May you look at your current self with kinder eyes today.
<3 TD
