“…and then, after the lapse of sixty minutes, (which embrace three thousand and six hundred seconds of the Time that flies,) there came yet another chiming of the clock” (Poe, The Masque of the Red Death).
In one of my favorite short stories, The Masque of the Red Death, Edgar Allen Poe hauntingly portrays people at a masquerade ball, pausing from their dancing only to listen in fear to the chiming of the grand clock that hovers above everyone. The chime serves as a reminder of the life that they are hiding at the ball from. Most importantly, for the 60 minutes between each chime, they dance and forget the racing of the clock, the swiftness of “Time.”
Last night, I reunited with former classmates and coworkers during an on-campus training event. To be around so many students like that made me feel the closest to myself and most distant to my past self simultaneously. Graduation was a mere 8 months ago, but that feels like yesterday while also seeming like a lifetime ago.
One year ago from this time of year, I was in one of the worst places of my life mentally. I had not accomplished what I thought I’d accomplish. I was wrapped in a bubble of all the things I was involved in, all the expectations I had for myself, and the list of titles and positions I held followed me wherever I went.
The day I walked across the stage with my friends meant that lost all those titles in one day. The curtain fell and I remember feeling naked, as though I had to find the things that made me who I am all over again. Where would I even begin?
I expected myself to graduate knowing that I would start medical school a couple months after. I would travel during that summer or do something crazy fun as my “last summer before the real world hits.” I would finally have my time to relax and discover things about myself while being ecstatic about everything falling into place. All the titles I held would carry over with me in some way, shape, or form. I knew who I was and that was going to pay off. Everything would fall into place smoothly.
But there I was on graduation day in May 2016, all titles gone, all college responsibilities and commitments gone. I was not starting medical school a few months after. I would not be traveling for the summer. My family would travel and I would spend the next month studying for the MCAT, one of the most stressful exams you could ever take in your life, 2 months applying, and a million more months waiting and praying for better news than the year before. I thought what I had before, where I was in college was so much better. When did life all fall apart?
In college, I was constantly running a race. I was studying because I needed the grades to get into medical school. When I wasn’t studying, I was working because I need to build my resume (and I truly loved my job as a writing tutor!). I needed to balance balance balance my life in my Biology and English disciplines. I couldn’t break because when would I study? I needed to take up early because I had to get a workout in and to somehow, in some way, regulate my stress and lose the weight I was gaining from all that stress. My day was scheduled back to back, hour by hour. I had studying, leadership positions, occupations, and more and more and more.
There was always so much to do and so little time. But when I came to graduate, the idea of “all that time” in a gap year seemed to be the most terrifying idea to grow comfortable with.
While in Poe’s story Time does not have dialogue, I always read the story and viewed Time as one of the story’s main characters. Time seemed to be that person you always avoided making eye contact with in the hallway unless you bumped into them and had to come to terms with them for that moment. In the story, the people are haunted by Time, trying to block it out, but there is no true way to completely avoid it because like everything else, life must go on. And Time will always tick.
So will we continue to fight a losing race?
I started my summer without any titles except “graduate.” I became an “applicant.” I became an “interviewing student.” I became an “accepted medical student.” I became a “Medical Scribe.” I became a “future student doctor.” I am continuing to work on being a present daughter and sister. I am working toward being a better person, a stronger person, who tries over and over again to make lemonade each time I’m presented with any more lemons.
But sometimes we don’t. And that should be okay. It is okay if we need to rediscover our passions. It should also be okay if we fall into things we don’t like and realize that that is not where our passion lies. We will never escape Time. So it seems like a much productive battle to try to beat the person we were yesterday, then try to beat the expectations of Time.
We do not have to have it all together all the time. As long as we keep searching, keep working to add titles and take ones away, discover and rediscover our passions and distastes, we are changing. And when the time is right, we will get to our calling.
This gap year has changed me because I let go of time. I let go of expectations of myself-sometimes still need to work on it. But the minute I stopped racing expectations and all the things I “have” to do, I started to hear myself. I started to find things I loved that I didn’t realize before. I started to change. And I am confident that the person I was one year ago from today, the one who did not know how to accept failure, did not fully understand the potential she had to GROW into an even better provider and person than she was at the time. As I think back to how much the past 8 months have changed me, I am overwhelmed by how much “older” I feel. There are battle scars, but there are also baby biceps that I’ve grown as I’ve persevered over and over again.
So if you’re going to believe one thing from what I have to say, believe this:
When the time is right, we will each become the person we are meant to be, prepared and ready to pursue our calling.
In one of my favorite short stories, The Masque of the Red Death, Edgar Allen Poe hauntingly portrays people at a masquerade ball, pausing from their dancing only to listen in fear to the chiming of the grand clock that hovers above everyone. The chime serves as a reminder of the life that they are hiding at the ball from. Most importantly, for the 60 minutes between each chime, they dance and forget the racing of the clock, the swiftness of “Time.”
Last night, I reunited with former classmates and coworkers during an on-campus training event. To be around so many students like that made me feel the closest to myself and most distant to my past self simultaneously. Graduation was a mere 8 months ago, but that feels like yesterday while also seeming like a lifetime ago.
One year ago from this time of year, I was in one of the worst places of my life mentally. I had not accomplished what I thought I’d accomplish. I was wrapped in a bubble of all the things I was involved in, all the expectations I had for myself, and the list of titles and positions I held followed me wherever I went.
The day I walked across the stage with my friends meant that lost all those titles in one day. The curtain fell and I remember feeling naked, as though I had to find the things that made me who I am all over again. Where would I even begin?
I expected myself to graduate knowing that I would start medical school a couple months after. I would travel during that summer or do something crazy fun as my “last summer before the real world hits.” I would finally have my time to relax and discover things about myself while being ecstatic about everything falling into place. All the titles I held would carry over with me in some way, shape, or form. I knew who I was and that was going to pay off. Everything would fall into place smoothly.
But there I was on graduation day in May 2016, all titles gone, all college responsibilities and commitments gone. I was not starting medical school a few months after. I would not be traveling for the summer. My family would travel and I would spend the next month studying for the MCAT, one of the most stressful exams you could ever take in your life, 2 months applying, and a million more months waiting and praying for better news than the year before. I thought what I had before, where I was in college was so much better. When did life all fall apart?
In college, I was constantly running a race. I was studying because I needed the grades to get into medical school. When I wasn’t studying, I was working because I need to build my resume (and I truly loved my job as a writing tutor!). I needed to balance balance balance my life in my Biology and English disciplines. I couldn’t break because when would I study? I needed to take up early because I had to get a workout in and to somehow, in some way, regulate my stress and lose the weight I was gaining from all that stress. My day was scheduled back to back, hour by hour. I had studying, leadership positions, occupations, and more and more and more.
There was always so much to do and so little time. But when I came to graduate, the idea of “all that time” in a gap year seemed to be the most terrifying idea to grow comfortable with.
While in Poe’s story Time does not have dialogue, I always read the story and viewed Time as one of the story’s main characters. Time seemed to be that person you always avoided making eye contact with in the hallway unless you bumped into them and had to come to terms with them for that moment. In the story, the people are haunted by Time, trying to block it out, but there is no true way to completely avoid it because like everything else, life must go on. And Time will always tick.
So will we continue to fight a losing race?
I started my summer without any titles except “graduate.” I became an “applicant.” I became an “interviewing student.” I became an “accepted medical student.” I became a “Medical Scribe.” I became a “future student doctor.” I am continuing to work on being a present daughter and sister. I am working toward being a better person, a stronger person, who tries over and over again to make lemonade each time I’m presented with any more lemons.
But sometimes we don’t. And that should be okay. It is okay if we need to rediscover our passions. It should also be okay if we fall into things we don’t like and realize that that is not where our passion lies. We will never escape Time. So it seems like a much productive battle to try to beat the person we were yesterday, then try to beat the expectations of Time.
We do not have to have it all together all the time. As long as we keep searching, keep working to add titles and take ones away, discover and rediscover our passions and distastes, we are changing. And when the time is right, we will get to our calling.
This gap year has changed me because I let go of time. I let go of expectations of myself-sometimes still need to work on it. But the minute I stopped racing expectations and all the things I “have” to do, I started to hear myself. I started to find things I loved that I didn’t realize before. I started to change. And I am confident that the person I was one year ago from today, the one who did not know how to accept failure, did not fully understand the potential she had to GROW into an even better provider and person than she was at the time. As I think back to how much the past 8 months have changed me, I am overwhelmed by how much “older” I feel. There are battle scars, but there are also baby biceps that I’ve grown as I’ve persevered over and over again.
So if you’re going to believe one thing from what I have to say, believe this:
When the time is right, we will each become the person we are meant to be, prepared and ready to pursue our calling.
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