More thinking than usual, anyway. Up until know I haven't really questioned anything in my life, but recently I've found myself thinking rather frequently, mostly about what I'm going to do with my life.
I've always thought I was going to be a doctor. My parents never specifically demanded it, but it's always been there - a silent expectation, a subtle hint and nudge here and there, along with the occasional wistful comment made by my mother, and so it sort of just fell into place. I figured I'd become a doctor, because that's a pretty reasonable job, right? Not just because of the paycheck - which is obviously pretty good - but because it seemed like something worthwhile, something that wouldn't be a waste of my life. I love learning, I love challenges, so it always seemed like a good plan to me: go to medschool, become a doctor, get married and have kids - live the good, standard life - but idk, it's all becoming a little uncertain to me now. Medicine would be a long road, a long, long road, which at a certain point will be practically impossible to turn around from. From what I've heard, you're either all in, or all out. Up until now, I've been all in.
I'm not quite sure what brought up all these doubts in me. I think part of it is doubt that I'll be able to do it - and how will I know, until I try? What if I make a rubbish doctor? I've always been perfectly balanced in terms of logical vs creativity - it's quite weird, actually. I love my science just as much as I adore my humanities, and I think that's a part of what's stirring up the doubt in me. I don't see myself as a scientist. I'm good at science, but I don't know if that's what i want my life to be about - though I've heard medicine isn't strictly scientific, that is requires interpersonal skills and things like that, the bottom line is that it's a science. I don't know if I'm actually cut out for that, nor if I actually want that.
English has always been a part of me: literature and writing and everything that goes with it, it's been a part of me ever since I was a child. I still remember the sorts of stories I wrote when I was seven, eight years old, tucked away in our little family home, scribbling furiously into my notebooks. I've no idea where they all are know, they got lost in transit between the divorce and the three different homes we've lived in since then, but I wish I could see them again. I'm not sure if I want to let that go. I'm trying to write a book - a novel, a short story, whatever - but that's not set in stone. So far, I have nearly 13,000 words, 20 pages. It's not an awful lot, but I've put an awful lot of thought in it, and in a way, it's my test run. If I can do it, then perhaps English is the way I should go. I really don't know, but all I know is that I won't ever know. Whether I'm going down one path or the other, I won't ever know if it'll be the right way. Say if I did decide to go to Uni to do English, what would I do afterwards? I think a part of what scares me away from doing it is the uncertainty. Medicine comes with a certainty - I know what I'll be doing at the end. I'll be a doctor. With English, I don't have that certainty, and I hate that. I just - I really don't know. If I walk down the Medicine path, a part of me feels like I'd be wasting something.
This has been an angsty teenage post.