The Disappearing Future

 As a child, we were often asked about our ambitions, what we wanted to be in “the future”. I wanted to be a doctor. I remember saying that when I was, perhaps 7 years old. I remember I wanted to be a paediatrician by age 9, perhaps after my first encounter with one. By age 12, I wanted to be a scientist, a neuro-scientist. Also, I wanted to create a biological weapon, that would harm only humans, and wipe out the entire population, because I thought humans were the worst. My friends used to find that absurd, to say the least.  I believed I could achieve whatever I wanted to achieve.

Age 17, I started my journey to become a doctor. Not so sure of myself anymore, I barely made the scholarship. The past 4 years, from ages 13-16, had put a lot of doubts into my mind. I was no more omnipotent. A normal trajectory of life.

The 6 years of undergrad had me questioning so many things. The idea of creating a biological weapon left far behind. I could barely cope up with my studies, even less so with the demands of my social life. I struggled with making friends, I struggled with maintaining acquaintances, I couldn’t adjust to the social expectations. I always felt awkward and out of place. I stuck to relationships that felt familiar and comfortable. My comforts were few, but absolute: they helped me disconnect. I disconnected from my reality to keep my peace, and perhaps my sanity. I didn’t really know who I was anymore.

I earned the title "Dr" to my name. Dreams do come true! Or does it? What was my dream? After the long and tedious journey, I didn’t know what I wanted anymore. I still planned, based on what I thought I wanted, and still trying my best to believe that I could achieve all I wanted to achieve.

I kept pushing my boundaries, I kept trying. I broke down, I picked up. I strategized, I planned, tried my best to learn from my mistakes. I took the good days and the bad days into my stride. I went to bed thinking, “Tomorrow is new day, tomorrow I will try again.” The reality is, I kept failing. Everything has been a struggle.
This is contentious. I mean, and I keep saying this, I know my life has been nothing short of perfect. Even this narration, choose the first lines of each paragraph and you have "a dream come true" story.

As I sit with my thoughts at yet another juncture of life, I realize how exhausted I am. I am still chasing the dream of a 7year old at 30. I am not even the person I was then. I have nothing more to offer myself but disappointment. I cannot and I should not continue along this lane. I have not been omnipotent for a very very long time now. I have failed to accept me as I am.

I cannot visualize a future. What do I want? Who do I want to become? What do I want to achieve? I do not have answers to these questions. I don’t even know what do I like.

As I pondered this, I was thinking how many others must feel this way, and so here I am writing this to share, in the off chance that it is relatable.

I would like to end on a positive note:
The most important discovery I think I made around this time is that I have never given myself enough credit for trying so hard. I kept thinking, “you haven’t done enough”,  “you should have done more”, “its your fault, you could have done it differently,” when in reality I did do a lot, and perhaps that was my best. I am not like everyone else, I am just me. And perhaps this me is super flawed, but this is the best version of me now.  And that’s good enough. I am good enough.