Wellbeing
I must admit, I have been a bit of a hermit for a good part of 2010. I just started school again, after taking an eight-year sabbatical, and my rigorous study schedule has forced me indoors for what feels like most of the year. I remember when summer was a sacred season, filled with beachside vacations and nights howling at the moon. Now my summers consist of sweaty walks to school that end in near heat stroke, and flattened mosquitoes on my text book pages. And this is only the beginning. The truth is that I thought that "sabbatical" I took all those years ago was really a permanent "goodbye forever" to formal education...but, oh, how I am learning to never say never. Although it is true that I did say goodbye forever to art school, I am back in academia, and there will be no turning back. This time, however, I'm in it for the long haul, and my path is heading straight into the jaws of medical school. Gulp.
Back to my life as a hermit. General Chemistry, Chemistry Lab, Human Anatomy, and a required diversity course on ethnic and minority families (which was a delightful reprieve from studying the stoichiometry of acid-base titrations. Egad!). The science courses, especially chemistry, were a jolt to my organic, free-flowing, right-brained (and downright structureless) way of thinking. Not only that, but they delivered blow after blow to my increasingly fragile ego. I was no longer the shining star in class. Sure, I can draw a nude silhouette with ease and controversial flair, but ask me to solve for the half life of uranium-238, and my once steady hand quivers and I might just black out momentarily. Something I've always known suddenly became painfully apparent: I am not a great analytical thinker. Duh. It is just not my gift. And although my left brain has learned to walk...it still moves quite clumsily at times, frequently bumping into walls and tripping over things like entropy and the second law of thermodynamics.
I digress. The point is that I quickly realized that the only advantage I had over many of my classmates (aside from 10 additional years of life on planet earth) was that I was willing to work harder and study longer. And that's what I did. That's what I have to do. And now here I am, taking in the last few days of freedom before yet another semester starts. But I think I will be approaching fall semester with a slightly different agenda. Work hard. Study hard. Check. But I am going to do something a little differently. I am going to bring art back into my life, because it's the only thing I do with true ease—more specifically, the art of friendship. I am going to smile more. I am going to take emotional risks and introduce myself to fellow students and even to teachers. I am going to ask questions in class with confidence. I am not going to allow myself to live in the vacuum of solitary study that I have been living in for the last eight months.
Why am I going to do this? Because I am learning that if I ever hope to get into medical school, or obtain a coveted residency spot, or earn the trust of my patients somewhere down the road.... I've got to be more than just a flash card drone. Who, after all, is it that leads research teams, appoints teaching assistantships, and writes letters of recommendation? (All these things are "must-haves" on the pre-med checklist.) Who is it that decides on which applicants to accept into medical school and place in residency positions? It is people who do those things. And if I'm not reaching out to the people who surround me, then I'm going to have to rely solely on my test scores, and we all know that's just not a possibility for me. Bumping into walls, remember?
I am not a shy person, generally, but I have certainly put forth a shy demeanor this past year. It's hard to not feel out of place sometimes when you're almost thirty and surrounded by sooo many eighteen and nineteen year olds. But it's foolish to think I'm the only thirty- or forty- or even fifty-something here at school. So I've decided to swallow my pride (or more accurately, my ego), and make friends with whomever it is that I find myself around this semester. Every encounter is a gift, an opportunity to reach out and make a connection. And it is the bridges that I build, made from human relationships, that will create a solid infrastructure for my life. I can't wait. I made my first new friend this summer, only a month ago, in a chemistry discussion group, and it feels so good to now know there will be a familiar face on campus.
So, here's to the new friends we'll make this year. Here's to the power of a smile. Here's to reaching into the void, and touching hands with a kindred spirit. Here's to the most rewarding and life-giving experience of all: human connection. It's really the only thing that matters. Here's to us, as we meet fellow travelers with whom we can share our journey, through darkness and through light, through sickness and through health. Here's to many more familiar faces, in person and online. Here's to My Bridge 4 Life—a bridge in and of itself that spans the distance of continents, and makes it possible to forge relationships with others who understand your story as no one else can. Here's to all of us, building bridges that span a lifetime.
Back to my life as a hermit. General Chemistry, Chemistry Lab, Human Anatomy, and a required diversity course on ethnic and minority families (which was a delightful reprieve from studying the stoichiometry of acid-base titrations. Egad!). The science courses, especially chemistry, were a jolt to my organic, free-flowing, right-brained (and downright structureless) way of thinking. Not only that, but they delivered blow after blow to my increasingly fragile ego. I was no longer the shining star in class. Sure, I can draw a nude silhouette with ease and controversial flair, but ask me to solve for the half life of uranium-238, and my once steady hand quivers and I might just black out momentarily. Something I've always known suddenly became painfully apparent: I am not a great analytical thinker. Duh. It is just not my gift. And although my left brain has learned to walk...it still moves quite clumsily at times, frequently bumping into walls and tripping over things like entropy and the second law of thermodynamics.
I digress. The point is that I quickly realized that the only advantage I had over many of my classmates (aside from 10 additional years of life on planet earth) was that I was willing to work harder and study longer. And that's what I did. That's what I have to do. And now here I am, taking in the last few days of freedom before yet another semester starts. But I think I will be approaching fall semester with a slightly different agenda. Work hard. Study hard. Check. But I am going to do something a little differently. I am going to bring art back into my life, because it's the only thing I do with true ease—more specifically, the art of friendship. I am going to smile more. I am going to take emotional risks and introduce myself to fellow students and even to teachers. I am going to ask questions in class with confidence. I am not going to allow myself to live in the vacuum of solitary study that I have been living in for the last eight months.
Why am I going to do this? Because I am learning that if I ever hope to get into medical school, or obtain a coveted residency spot, or earn the trust of my patients somewhere down the road.... I've got to be more than just a flash card drone. Who, after all, is it that leads research teams, appoints teaching assistantships, and writes letters of recommendation? (All these things are "must-haves" on the pre-med checklist.) Who is it that decides on which applicants to accept into medical school and place in residency positions? It is people who do those things. And if I'm not reaching out to the people who surround me, then I'm going to have to rely solely on my test scores, and we all know that's just not a possibility for me. Bumping into walls, remember?
I am not a shy person, generally, but I have certainly put forth a shy demeanor this past year. It's hard to not feel out of place sometimes when you're almost thirty and surrounded by sooo many eighteen and nineteen year olds. But it's foolish to think I'm the only thirty- or forty- or even fifty-something here at school. So I've decided to swallow my pride (or more accurately, my ego), and make friends with whomever it is that I find myself around this semester. Every encounter is a gift, an opportunity to reach out and make a connection. And it is the bridges that I build, made from human relationships, that will create a solid infrastructure for my life. I can't wait. I made my first new friend this summer, only a month ago, in a chemistry discussion group, and it feels so good to now know there will be a familiar face on campus.
So, here's to the new friends we'll make this year. Here's to the power of a smile. Here's to reaching into the void, and touching hands with a kindred spirit. Here's to the most rewarding and life-giving experience of all: human connection. It's really the only thing that matters. Here's to us, as we meet fellow travelers with whom we can share our journey, through darkness and through light, through sickness and through health. Here's to many more familiar faces, in person and online. Here's to My Bridge 4 Life—a bridge in and of itself that spans the distance of continents, and makes it possible to forge relationships with others who understand your story as no one else can. Here's to all of us, building bridges that span a lifetime.