how just a year changed my future plans

From the get go, when I was younger I always believed I would dedicate my life to being a doctor. When I grew up, around middle school, the idea was just further solidified by my parents and everything I saw around me. If I'm being honest, religion also had a big part on it. Let me explain.

Both my parents are/were lawyers. I grew up accustomed to listening to law terminology I didn't understand, but I was always aware of how professional it sounded. However, med school started to become appealing to me around sixth grade, just because it was the oh-so-hardest career in my mind and obviously, I wanted a challenge. Me being the nerd I am, I've always had an easy time with school, so I thought it'd be just the perfect match for me: a lot of memorization, 5+ school years (depending on whether I chose to specialize on something or not), and helping other people. That was also a big factor. My belief in God has driven me to think because He's been good to me, I must do something good in return, and back then, that was the easiest way. I mean, in my head, I could help people because, duh, that's what doctors vow to do, and that job basically gives you a free entryway for that. Add to that the fact I wanted to impress my biology teacher so bad I spent my whole tenth year studying every afternoon and I was on the highway for med school.

To be fair, med school always being my first choice, law school was my second (albeit farthest) choice. In journal entries from earlier years I wonder about both those two careers, going back and forth, but always praying for med school, and that's technically what I aimed to. Up until last year.

This time last year, I was still hellbent on attending med school. I was studying winter and summer break about previous biology lessons to prepare myself for this grand test for college, searching other viable options for the same career in different schools. And then the situation with mom happened.

While I haven't delved into detail about what exactly happened—because frankly, I'm not ready yet,—let's just say, it was plagued with hospital rooms, medicines all over the counter, the smell of antiseptic, a lot of blood, and surrounded by slow-approaching death. Once she passed, I remember clearly sitting by the curb, waiting, trying to come to terms my mother was gone, and thinking 'It happened in a hospital. How can I possibly spend the rest of my life in such a hostile environment, seeing mothers die and daughters grieve, every single day?'. I quickly pushed that thought away. Law schools in my city or near it aren't quite good enough, and biology was the only thing I'd proven good at. I saw it as my only choice.

Despite that, the doubts started to settle. Did I want to spend a year doing training when I hated the sight and the talk of blood? Could I tolerate seeing death so close again, become immune to it? What would happen if I had to dissect a corpse? Was I strong enough to do that? I believe, if that had truly been my calling, if I had had no other choice, I could've forced myself to, but I grew scared, unsatisfied, angry knowing that would be the rest of my life. But then I'd remember mother's advice, how she used to picture me in a lab coat picking her up, and those doubts I would subconsciously push away again.

Around this time, early February, I had to go fill my application for the test at the school my mother always aimed me for. When I got there, I was faced, disappointed, petrified. It seemed dull, almost plaguing me with a claustrophobic feeling. I remember wanting to cry next to father, because this was what I was headed towards, and I didn't have control about it. Or so I thought. So, at night, I started praying. Just small thoughts or a couple sentences, letting God know I was confused and upset I was doubting med school. Surely, he wanted me to go there, too, right? I knew I could do it, and if I wanted to help people, I had to, but the doubts were getting stronger by the minute.

Once, around late February and early March, a friend of mine, my closest friend saw me struggling with that doubt, despite me not being very vocal about it. And, with slow words and sentences that made perfect sense for me, he convinced me considering law school wouldn't be so bad. I wanted a job where I could dress nicely, memorize a lot, read (one of my pleasures), just be happy and stick to a routine, being able to devote most of my time once I had children to the household, instead of spending ungodly hours surrounded by antiseptic smell. And that's when I, for the first time, prayed, 'Would it really be so bad? I mean, you're placing these doubts in my mind for a reasons aren't you? Help me choose'.

Around April, I came to terms I wanted law school, or at least to try it. Remembering my mother, I knew I wanted to be able to talk like her sometime, that I wanted to handle so much paperwork I was literally full of stacks around my office, like she was. And I asked God for help again, because the next task on my plan was the most daunting one: convincing my father I had to leave the city to enter a good law school.

The school I had previously applied for had all my paperwork aimed for med school, and though it was out of the city, I had applied there just to have an idea of how the tests would be, a plan Z in case all my previous 26 went awry. And so, I called my school and asked them to switch my application to law school. And then I had to persuade father.

To save me time and words, father and mother were always the protective kind. I doubted they would ever let me go if not absolutely needed, and I was aware the private college I was aiming for was expensive, but with the insurances from my mother's passing, I was sure I could take a percentage to afford my career. After all, she did work for us, my brother and I, and I thought that was a sensitive choice, something of use she had left behind for us. And father, like I expected him to, was hellbent on not letting me, insisting it was dangerous, that I was just a child, it was a hard bet to expect me to finish school in another state when I had always lived at home. But still, though his words were hard, they didn't disuade me. I asked him to think about it, feeling hope, God knows why. And then I got it: it was working just like God had planned. Along the next two weeks, I prayed constantly for God to change his mind, to let me go there if it was His plan (which I strongly felt like it was). And then, things got tough.

Around this time, I was also experiencing depression, the situation at home seemed dim, but going to another city, pursuing law school, that was the ray of hope that kept me a bit positive. It seemed far away, impossible, but it was something I had prayed for since I was a child. I just never thought God had actually listened. Father and I got into some pretty heated arguments about it, arguments that may or may have not hurt me a tad bit too much. But I was still hopeful. And then, when I least expected him to, after he had plainly out said no and I considered ending my studies because I so not wanted to dedicate my life to medicine, a priest came by our house. And I guess that's what gave Father the last push.

During summer, once I knew I was going towards law school in the city of my dreams as a child, I was scared. What if I had done the wrong choice? What if mother was upset? What if I had just taken the coward way out? What if I found it boring? I prayed and prayed that I found happiness in school, for the topics to be of interest to me, for guidance.

And now, three months in, I am happy and satisfied that was my choice. I love the terminology, though I've barely stepped into it, and I am thinking on doing a double certificate. All of this seemed impossible a year ago. It still seems surreal from moment to moment now. Whenever the pandemic is over, I'm moving into my own apartment, going to a new school in a new city, and I'm studying law. And then it hit me: life can change so much in a year, in less than a year, and still be for the better. I never felt like God wasn't listening. In fact, it chills me to know, from the very first moment I prayed about leaving this city for college when I was in elementary school, He heard, He knew what was best for me before I even knew. And he gave me the peace and assistance to get me there.

My intention with this wasn't to get religion involved, but this choice was greatly affected by that. What I'm trying to say is, if you're about to make such a big choice in your life, think it twice, even if you had planned it for years ahead. Is it what you really want? Will it make you happy? If you feel unsettled, talk to someone. In my case, that someone was God. No matter how far-fetched this idea you have in mind might seem, it can happen, if it is 'in the universe's plan' or in my case, 'God's will'.

I'm not sure this post helped anyone, but if this resonated with you, even in the slightest, I'm glad. And don't worry, God's taking care of you.

Thank you for reading!

Profuse Greetings, Mel.