LOBSTER. 🦞

The lobster is a soft, squishy animal, but a few times a year, it secretes a new shell which rapidly hardens into the mottled carapace we’re familiar with. In a way, we too create hard outer shells in response to our external circumstances. But instead of chitin, our shells are made of adaptations in thoughts and behaviors that define the boundaries of our everyday interactions. This exoskeleton is a necessary byproduct of our desire to navigate the present plot of our lives in a way that is safe and contained. Without it, we couldn’t possibly weather the torrent of information, philosophies, and goals that we swim through every single day.

A few times a year, lobsters begin to outgrow their own armor. At a certain point, the pressure of its internal growth is so much that it has to shed its outer protection to accommodate its continued development. We too, should shed our past defenses once they prevent us from continuing to grow into the next chapter of our lives. Otherwise, we’ll suffocate within the very constructs we created to previously allow ourselves to live and breathe. In other words, what worked for us yesterday, may not necessarily work tomorrow.

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”. Ironic, considering that I only ever did “just enough”. It was a knee-jerk reaction for me to stop when I thought I’d done enough of whatever I’m doing to scratch the surface of the results that I wanted. Honestly, I clung to the aforementioned mantra about trying my best because I only ever did the bare minimum. Essentially, the reality of my lackadaisical attitude was so much more acceptable to myself when it was covered up with wisdoms about persistence. Sure, for people who overwork themselves, knowing when to slow down can be a virtue. But for me, I was still stuck at preventing myself from manifesting what I could truly accomplish. You know those late nights when you’re staring at the ceiling, sifting through 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 bit harder.

For being someone who hates overexerting themselves, I somehow decided to go to medical school after graduation. I’ll say that it was definitely not the only life path I envisioned for myself and absolutely not the one I thought I’d choose. For good reason, people are surprised when I tell them I’m going to be a doctor because my hobbies and personality are anything but. And honestly, I 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’ve been sticking through the grueling process of medical education because I want to prove to myself that I can 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.

In the spirit of faking it till I make it, I’ve been trying my best to survive in medical school. But as suspected, 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 alongside 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 my interests, my youth and, most painfully, all the other lives I could have lived. Trying to grow into a new version of myself - or in lobster terms, a new exoskeleton - is so painful because it simultaneously requires tearing away the old shell of who I used to be.

For all my waxing and waning in the beginning of this article about crustaceans and growing out of old selves, I don’t think the story of my own life has gotten yet to the point where I reap the benefits of accepting change. Honestly, I spend more time asking myself if the sacrifices were worth it than feeling grateful that the sacrifices were made. But surely these tradeoffs will be worth it in the end? I have no idea. I also have no idea if I’m making the right sacrifices or growing in the right direction. All I know for now is that I’m finally able to be intentional about growing in some direction… and for that, I guess I am grateful.