The Promise To Myself

Staring at the rain from the window of a stale hospital room

I will never forget the day. It was raining outside, so softly that I could barely hear it over the beeping of the monitors and the moaning of the patients.

But I could smell it. It was raining outside.

I walked around, in a daze caused by fatigue and stress, looking for a window. The smell of rain broke through the smell of a hospital with limited resources, and the cold air against my face made me smile.

It was a stunning day. I hadn’t noticed. I couldn’t possibly have noticed, surrounded by making impossible decisions and choosing how to assign our limited resources. But it was a stunning day.

My mind wandered…

What could I be doing today? Where could I be to enjoy this magical scene? As I looked at the rain falling, and the leaves stirring slightly to shake off the drops, I made myself a promise. I promised myself that I am listening to the plea of my soul. I promised that I would stop ignoring the nagging feeling that I am in the wrong place. I promised that I would place myself in a position where I could do the things I yearned to do with my time.

One day I will be free. Free to choose how to spend my days and to watch the weather. And it will be one day soon. Before it is too late.

I realised in this moment that the freedom would come at a cost. I found myself standing at a crossroad. To the one side, I could continue on this path. I could make the money to ultimately, towards the end of my life, buy back my freedom. On the other side I realized that adjusting my expectations could get me there much sooner. Why should I be buying my freedom? Why did I feel imprisoned in the first place?

Standing at the crossroads, staring at the rain through a small, dirty window, brought me to a realization that hit me in the face like the cold breeze from outside did.

I could be free. I just had to give up most of my ideas of a successful life for it. If I could need less, if I could care less about the expectations of those around me, if I could accumulate less of the material things we associated with wealth, I could be free in next to no time.

I smiled to myself and inhaled the scene outside, before I turned away from the scene framed by the small window pane in desperate need of a coat of paint. I looked around me at the doctors working hard to help the hoards of patients.

I was grateful for these doctors, the ones who found their personal and professional fulfilment within these walls. They were the real heroes. The type of heroes that I too longed to be for the greatest part of my life. The world needs these heroes, and I said a silent prayer of gratitude for these brave souls.

But as much as I was filled with admiration, I knew this wasn’t my path. This wasn’t the hero I would end up being. My calling was elsewhere.

I had made myself a promise, one that I intended to keep. I promised that I would listen. And as I sit here today, writing this piece in front of an open window and enjoying the smell of the rain, I am reminded of this promise to myself.

The promises we make ourselves are the most important ones. By keeping them, we communicate to the deepest fibres of our being that we consider ourselves important.

I found my freedom. It wasn’t easy, and I disappointed many people. But I was true to myself.

Maybe being your own hero is the cape that fits best around weary shoulders.

Consider following me. I am the doctor who walked away from my life of accolades to embrace my authenticity. Here, I share my stories of growth and transformation during this time. Thank you for the read!