Life Lessons

I Changed My Entire Life In 24 Hours. I’ve Never Been Happier

If your 10-year-plan isn’t working for you, scrap it. I did.

TL;DR- takeaways/thoughts/advice at the end

Friday Day

It was a beautiful spring day when the dream of becoming a doctor curled up inside of me and quietly died like a flower wilting under the warm sun.

I lay in bed, clutching my stomach and rolling over listlessly, ignoring the cheerful sunbeams glaring through my grated window. Later, I realized my dream career had probably been slowly dying for a long time. Only now was it so obvious that I could no longer look away from the truth.

Every bone in my body was telling me that I wanted to run far, far away from Philadelphia. There were moments when the city I loved felt more like a prison than a home, and this was one of them.

New Jersey. Central Pennsylvania. Upstate New York. New York City. Maryland. I ran through the list of nearby havens in my mind, imagining my trusty Prius carrying me somewhere that had cleaner air and more stars.

I shook my head over the lack of people that lived nearby. My godparents had once been near, but they had moved back home recently. I couldn’t blame them for wanting to escape the suffocating quality that D.C. seemed to share with Philly, and all cities for that matter.

I could just drive home.

The thought popped into my head, and I sighed, remembering the arduous 8 hour trek south. For reasons I couldn’t explain, I wanted to be home now. I needed to be home now.

3 hours later, I had a same day round-trip ticket to Charlotte, North Carolina, largely due to flight credit left over from a canceled 2020 spring break trip to Switzerland. Thanks, coronavirus.

“I can’t explain it,” I had said through tears, on the phone with my dad. “I just need to be home.”

There had been no further questions.

The flight out of Philadelphia was uneventful, in large part due to the fact I knew Philadelphia International Airport like the back of my hand.

Navigating the airport had not always come so naturally. The first time I had flown home for Thanksgiving my freshman year of college, I had spent a distraught 45 minutes figuring out where Terminal F was located.

I would later understand this was a common problem. I was disgruntled when it became easier to find Terminal F. I had come to believe that discerning how to get to Terminal F was a rite of passage.

Friday Evening, Part I

The first leg of my flight touched down in Harrisburg, giving me a look at the capital city Pennsylvania. From my vantage point, Harrisburg was a lot of mountains and a few factories.

This was consistent with the notion that the farther west you were of Philadelphia, the less city you would encounter. The airport confirmed my suspicions, boasting two restaurants.

My layover wasn’t the shortest, and I first ended up in one of several empty seats at one of several empty gates, on the phone with my best friend Sofia.

“Are you okay?” Sofia asked. This, I thought, was a valid question. I should have been celebrating the end of my post-baccalaureate program and almost guaranteed entry to medical school in Philadelphia, not the Harrisburg airport.

“I woke up this morning and I was able to imagine doing something besides being a doctor,” I explained, “and that scared me. You know how this profession is,” I continued,” it comes before everything. Relationships, family, everything. There isn’t room for doubt.”

Sofia knew.

We chatted for a while. I surely annoyed the few airport patrons with my occasional outbursts of laughter, indignation, and everything in between. (“The exam is worth HOW much of your grade?” “ She did WHAT?”)

I promised to text with updates.

Friday Evening, Part II

Meandering over to the airport restaurant, I ordered a thoroughly forgettable entrée and a 9 ounce glass of Malbec. Today had been a long day, and I thought I deserved 9 ounces.

“Can I see your ID?” the waitress asked

The waitress handed it back. “You just don’t look 23,” she explained.

What a stupid thing to say, I thought, allowing my weariness to get the best of me as I looked down at my joggers and sweatshirt. I had been traveling all day, wearing my comfiest lounge clothes. I probably looked 15.

At least, I thought, said lounge clothes were freshly washed. I could smell my EarthBreeze laundry sheets and it made me feel good. Especially navigating this train wreck of a day.

I polished off my average dinner quickly, trying to ignore the raucous group nearby and enjoy the sunset view. This was like trying to ignore a herd of elephants walking around, but I thought it was worth a try.

The phrase “bariatric lift assist” floated over from the Too Loud To Be Socially Acceptable Table, pinging my radar for “EMS jargon”.

An EMT myself, I hadn’t realized how much I didn’t want to think about patient care-or frankly, caring for anyone at all-until I caught snippets of the story told in boastful tones I was all too familiar with.

I imagined my career chasing me, sending this obnoxious human to warn me: wherever I went, I wouldn’t be able to escape reminders of the past. Images of patients vomiting on me, fainting on me and bleeding on me played on a montage reel in my head.

“Why bother thinking about changing your mind?” the universe was taunting. “Be a doctor.”

The fact I was about to fork over $250,000 I didn’t have so more people could empty their bodily fluids on or near me-or worse, just so that I could do paperwork and tell people that insurance didn’t cover what they needed- hit me hard, right as my friend launched into a spiel about how awesome being a medic was.

Did I really want to be a doctor?

After a short panic attack, I signaled to the waitress for another glass of wine.

Dad greeted me at the Charlotte airport with a homemade platter of hors d’oeuvres waiting for me in the car. As soon as I saw the lovingly arranged snacks, I burst into tears.

Saturday Morning

I told my parents the next morning that I had decided I would not be going to medical school next year-or ever.

Turning around to leave the kitchen after this big announcement, I paused.

“I do have one more thing to ask,” I said. “Can I move home?”

Takeaways + Final Thoughts

• We can’t make a drastic change every time we’re unhappy; we can decide what we had planned out is no longer the best path for us.
• The best thing you can do for anyone is be true to what you need.
• Listen to your intuition
• You define you. Not your career, location, partner, kids. You.

Thinking About Making a Change?

• Lay out a plan. What comes next?
• Find a support system. Who will support you through your transition?
• Imagine you’ve already decided to change careers, leave a relationship, etc. What does your life look like in the “after?”

Thanks for reading! Support a creator here and join my email list here

You can also find me at The Writing On The Wall. Follow us for fresh content curated by yours truly!❤