Tonight marks the final night before our residency selection lists become final. Tonight is the last night of agonizing over which program I want most, which city would I be happiest in, or which path would afford me the greatest opportunity in my chosen field.
I spent the night surrounded by friends at my medical school's Christian association at their first event in the new year. Faith is something that I have struggled with my entire life. Whether it be faith in myself, faith in others, or faith in the divine, I have tremendous difficulty in sustaining faith of any kind. As we went around and shared our experiences with residency applications, I was envious of my colleagues' sense of peace and the complete acceptance of the unknown.
My interview period was marked by anything but acceptance. Traveling from city to city nearly every other day, I felt increasingly lost in the vortex of choices, decisions, and opportunities. With each passing interview came a new challenge, further clouding my ability to know what I truly wanted. Instead of letting my horse run free, I gripped the reins even tighter. I must work harder, I thought, then I will know what I want. I spent hours calling people, making spreadsheets, and reading program descriptions.
Tonight, I felt the familiar call of exhaustion, and I had looked forward to an evening of exercise and relaxation. But that's not how plans work. By a series of seemingly random events, I got out of class late and ended up at this event instead. As I listened to the wise words of those around me, I had an epiphany. Be it the word of God himself, coincidence, or some strange combination, I felt a sense of peace rush over me for the first time in months. Like slipping your head underwater in the most perfect bath, all sounds muffled and all worries subdued. It's time to let go.
I have no idea what my future holds, and part of me still wants to bury my head in the dirt like a frightened ostrich. All I know is that no matter what happens, the outcome I get will be the right one. Now it is time to sit back, let the algorithm and all upstream forces work their magic, and finally relinquish control.
I spent the night surrounded by friends at my medical school's Christian association at their first event in the new year. Faith is something that I have struggled with my entire life. Whether it be faith in myself, faith in others, or faith in the divine, I have tremendous difficulty in sustaining faith of any kind. As we went around and shared our experiences with residency applications, I was envious of my colleagues' sense of peace and the complete acceptance of the unknown.
My interview period was marked by anything but acceptance. Traveling from city to city nearly every other day, I felt increasingly lost in the vortex of choices, decisions, and opportunities. With each passing interview came a new challenge, further clouding my ability to know what I truly wanted. Instead of letting my horse run free, I gripped the reins even tighter. I must work harder, I thought, then I will know what I want. I spent hours calling people, making spreadsheets, and reading program descriptions.
Tonight, I felt the familiar call of exhaustion, and I had looked forward to an evening of exercise and relaxation. But that's not how plans work. By a series of seemingly random events, I got out of class late and ended up at this event instead. As I listened to the wise words of those around me, I had an epiphany. Be it the word of God himself, coincidence, or some strange combination, I felt a sense of peace rush over me for the first time in months. Like slipping your head underwater in the most perfect bath, all sounds muffled and all worries subdued. It's time to let go.
I have no idea what my future holds, and part of me still wants to bury my head in the dirt like a frightened ostrich. All I know is that no matter what happens, the outcome I get will be the right one. Now it is time to sit back, let the algorithm and all upstream forces work their magic, and finally relinquish control.
