A Dream Part 1

Long ago and far away…okay not SO long ago, but pretty far away, I was a mere teenager who wanted to write fiction. Unfortunately, I was also a shy teenager, who didn’t want to let many people close enough to see my imagination and my feelings and my words. And I didn’t have the confidence to pursue, in my education or my profession, something as subjective as writing. I needed to be more sure I knew the right answers, more sure I was doing well, and so I chose science and medical school and residency.

Now, passing up a dream of writing to pursue a stable job is not such a bad decision. For me, too, it probably wouldn’t have been a bad idea, if I had paid more attention to what I was choosing and whether I actually liked it, rather than just whether I could do it and get a job later. I didn’t count on finding myself, driving to work one day, thinking I’d rather die in a wreck than go to my job. My very kind husband decided that he cared more about me than about our finances, so instead of taking maternity leave when my second baby was born, I quit. His job didn’t pay enough to support us, and we lived off savings until he found a better one a few months later. Now, we get by, though with much less wiggle-room in our budget than we would have had if I’d stayed in medicine, but I have the luxury to be home with my children while they’re young and to be free of a job that (while great for people who like it- I’m not criticizing medicine here) froze my soul.


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