When I entered college, I chose a major that I knew I would be good at. I knew that I could write decent essays, I had taken multiple advanced writing and editing courses in high school, and it was something that I often enjoyed. I liked reading books and analyzing them, finding hidden messages and symbolism intertwined with the fantastic storytelling of something so possibly mundane, yet made so interesting by the author and their weapon of choice—words.
I also chose my major because I wasn’t aware of the other options I had.
I never pictured myself working in medicine, law, or anything else that is widely known to make good money. I was good at writing analytical essays about plays and old books, not figuring out complex chemical formulas or doing mathematical calculations. Perhaps it wasn’t that I didn’t have the ability to do these things, but that I didn’t believe in myself because I wasn’t naturally good at them.
Then, things happened. Things that were uncontrollable and devastating, and suddenly more than ever, it was clear that my family needed financial help. Immediately, I knew that the path I was ambling towards was nothing but a money pit, and the fact that there was no guaranteed salary that would help me out in the long run made it even worse.
So, I sucked it up and found myself in healthcare, allured by the six-figure salary as well as the still fairly decent salary that I was expecting once I obtained my bachelor’s, before proceeding onto further education and certifications.
I was miserable in my old major and miserable in my new one, but for different reasons. I had to work ten times as hard as some others in my classes because they had all taken the not required, but instead highly recommended “prerequisites” and were also used to the subjects we were learning. I ended up taking most of the introductory courses out of order and was bombarded with the realization that failing math classes throughout middle and high school did not bode well for me.
I lost most of my friends because I withdrew into my studies, worried that by failing I wouldn’t only be disappointing myself, but also my family. It didn’t help that I had chosen this solely because of the financial aspects; I didn’t feel rewarded in any of my classes, even when I performed well. My mental health was in the gutter, and my physical health was following because I neglected my needs, refusing to waste any possible studying time.
Then, when I least expected it, I found a light. I realized that I did have a passion for what I was learning—it just didn’t surface until we covered a specific niche within this major that I I actually enjoyed learning about. I was finally excited to begin practicing.
It wasn’t easy then, and it still isn’t now. This specific niche just so happens to capitalize more on my strengths, and excludes more of my weaknesses. However, there are other shortcomings that I know will make the job difficult at times, which is why it still isn’t easy although it’s more enjoyable.
Regardless of my passion, however, I promised myself one thing-–that no matter how much I liked or disliked my career, I would never let people suffer because of it. One thing that I’ve learned about myself is that I don’t like to give minimal effort, giving only 50% instead of 100%. I either do it completely and do it well, or I don’t do it at all. Not doing it isn’t an option for me any more.
I’ve discovered that this pushing of my boundaries made me realize that perhaps my lack of passion wasn’t solely based on my like or dislike of the topics covered, but because I truly believed I was bad at it, and always would be. If I never had a chance in the first place, why even try at all?
Now, I look forward to my career. Not only because of the potential financial gain to help out my loved ones, but to actually put what I am learning into practice in my every day life. I want to continue going to school and learning, so that I can help more and more people. I want to be representation in the field as a queer, woman of color, so that future aimless students (reminiscent of my freshman self) can see me and realize that there is a possibility that they can do it too.
Even if you don’t think you fit the mold of a healthcare worker, or aren’t smart enough, you can if you want it enough. Perhaps, you will find a true passion for it along the way as well, just as I did.