lobster

In the grand scheme of things, today was just another day, but it also held some truths that I wanted to write down for later. I guess a good place to start would be the lobster.

The lobster is a soft, squishy animal underneath the hard outer shell it secretes for self-protection. In a way, we too have hard outer shells made up of our external circumstances and our internal adaptations that define the boundaries of our everyday thoughts and behaviors. This exoskeleton is a necessary byproduct of our desire to navigate the present plot of our lives in a way that is digestible and contained. Without it, we couldn’t possibly weather the torrent of information, philosophies, and goals that we swim through every single day.

What’s fascinating though is that with time, the lobster begins to outgrow its own armor. At a certain point, the pressure of its growth is so much that it has to shed its outer protection to once again work on building a new shell to accommodate its larger size and development. It’s probably obvious where I’m going with this, but I believe that we should also shed our shells once they hold us back from continuing to grow into the next chapter of our lives. Otherwise, we’ll choke and die from the very constructs we create to continue to live and breathe.

Before I get carried too away with this metaphor, I want to visit an important theme in my narrative of personal growth. Throughout middle school and high school, my mom always told me that regardless of the outcome, I should be satisfied with knowing that I’d tried my best. In college, I developed this piece of advice into a personal mantra: "I did the best I could with what I could when I could”. Despite this, one of the things I’ve continued to hate about myself is that I only ever do “just enough”. Whether in school, at work, or the gym, it’s a knee-jerk reaction for me to stop when I think I’ve done enough of whatever I’m doing to scratch the surface of the results that I want. It’s ironic that I cling so hard to philosophies about trying my best when my default attitude has always been doing the bare minimum. If anything, I’m sure that my subconscious awareness of this deep flaw is the very reason why I care so much about the idea of trying my best. The reality of my lackadaisical attitude is so much more acceptable when it’s covered up with wisdoms about being persistent. I even go as far as to rationalize my unwillingness to go beyond my limits as “calculated laziness” in the spirit of self preservation. Sure, for people who overwork themselves, knowing when to slow down can be a wisdom of its own. But I know that, personally, I’ve only been preserving myself from manifesting what I can truly accomplish. You know those 2am nights when you’re staring at the ceiling and thinking about past regrets, wishing you’d done something differently? 9/10 times for me, I think about moments that could have drastically changed my life if I’d only tried a little harder.

After graduation, I chose to go to medical school because of my interest in healthcare and the human condition, but it wasn’t the only life path I envisioned for myself and definitely not the one I thought I’d choose. If anything, most people who didn’t know me personally were surprised when I told them I was pre-med because my outwardly interests, hobbies, and personality were anything but. And honestly, I’d agree that it’d be much more natural and enjoyable for me to pursue a career in music or visual art. But at the same time, I was intensely stubborn about sticking through the grueling process of medical education because I wanted to prove to myself that I could actually do something requiring patience and dedication. In retrospect, I’m glad that despite my insecurities about being a jack off, I somehow had the balls to challenge it.

Since starting medical school, I’ve oscillated between giving up and sucking it up on a daily basis. I seriously don’t feel like the base stats I was born into this world with are compatible with being a doctor sometimes. It’s like being a mage trying to unlock warrior abilities on a talent tree that I don’t have. No matter how hard I try, I yield mediocre results which is really depressing on the worst days. Again and again, I try to maintain my artistic endeavors with my studies only to realize that it’s not sustainable. I feel like I’m losing parts of myself and am often consumed by the true cost of becoming a doctor. I’m sacrificing all my random interests, my entire 20s, and, most painfully, all the possible lives I could live. Trying to grow into a new person is so painful because it’s simultaneously tearing away who I used to be.

Today, I took the hardest exam I have ever taken in my life. It truly felt beyond the limits of my being. Having a midterm every two weeks for the last year and a half, I have a pretty good sense of how well or how poorly I did on an exam - and this exam had me wiping away tears on the drive home. “If you’ve never been to medical school, you could never understand” is something often said amongst students that I feel is becoming a truth rather than a fun exaggeration. When I step back, I rationally know that it’s unhealthy to have such a powerful reaction to something so trivial in the grand scheme of life. But emotionally, I can’t let go of that fact that it was so much more than that. Doing well in medical school is beyond studying efficiently, especially when the challenge is not the difficulty of the content but the quantity. You have to be disciplined with healthy habits in every area of your life (sleep, diet, exercise, and mental health), and failing to upkeep any axis of your life can easily have a snowball effect on your overall health and performance. More than anything, I felt defeated after this exam because I put in 200% of myself to be the best version of myself that I could be. I’ve finally learned to try my hardest, but what happens when even your hardest is not enough? I never expected it would be so difficult to truly understand my mother’s advice about learning to be satisfied with trying my best regardless of the outcome. To bring back the lobster metaphor, I was so excited about shedding my old shell of “calculated laziness”, I didn’t realize I’d continue to grow and eventually have to grow out of the next shell as well. I’ve succeeded in pushing myself past my limits, but I’ve failed to recognize the next chapter of growth that life demands from me.

I guess this journal entry doesn't have a proper hero’s ending, but it’s probably because the story isn’t over yet. Beyond breaking through old shells and coming to terms with the next shell of accepting defeat, I know that there will be more layers of armor to let go of since I can’t possibly imagine what I do not yet know.