It’s been a while since I’ve written. Part of that was that med school keeps me busy. Part of it was that I couldn’t think of what I could write about that would be anywhere near as interesting as my past. Part of it was that once I stopped, it was hard to start again. And part of it was that I wasn’t ready to be vulnerable again.
So here goes.
One of my first nights after I moved to DC I spent watching the Fourth of July fireworks with with an aunt and her friends. I had been feeling unsettled since I had gotten to DC, which I attributed to nerves and stress around leaving the familiar college life behind. As we stood in a park waiting for the fireworks to commence, my uneasiness grew as my aunt and her friends talked about how they had all expected to leave DC after a year or two, but had ended up staying. One of them turned to me and jokingly told me I would probably be the same, that I would probably end up there. They were joking, but it struck a chord. The fireworks started soon thereafter, and as everyone else stared up at the sky, tears fell out of my eyes. I was scared that I would end up staying in DC and the corporate world because it was the path of least resistance and time would slip by unnoticed.
When I got home from watching the fireworks, I formulated a plan. And part of that was inspired by a (admittedly cheesy) quote that I’ve always enjoyed:
the grass is greener where you water it.
I spent the night trying to figure out how I could water the grass where I was, which seemed tricky considering I wanted to leave that grass far behind.
That year in DC, I did a number of things to position myself for the future I wanted: my volunteer work with immigrants on the weekends, Nepali lessons, World Bank Youth Summit, and just spending time reflecting on what I wanted out of this life.
I bring that up now because the quote still helps me ground myself when I feel like learning the minutia of the body that I won’t remember in two years is pointless, I wonder what life would be like if I had chosen a different path, or when I feel like I don’t have as many friends as I would like. I’ve been trying to water the grass that I want to see green.
This past year, I’ve worked to translate Covid info into Nepali so Bhutanese and Nepali refugees can have access to the same information as English-speakers. I’ve also attempted a project looking into mental health issues and language barriers for Bhutanese refugees. I’ve also been one of the clinic directors for our clinic for asylum seekers- continuing to bring meaning to the work I was doing with refugees in DC almost six years ago. And I’m working with the girls’ club I started in Nepal to address some issues I really care about – school drop out rates and suicides.
But there have also been pointed moments when I’ve realized I need to water different grass. I’ve felt really far behind when it came to making friends in med school, so I’m working on that. I’ve also had a harder time keeping in touch with old friends as I get busy with school. I just feel lonely a fair amount of time, and part of that is that it is easy to isolate myself, especially in the pandemic. There will always be something new to learn about medicine; I need to find the balance between school and everything else.
And if you ever go to DC, you can pull out a magnifying glass and admire the four blades of grass that are green because I watered them.
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