When I was applying for college during my undergrad, there was a section of the application that asked for a personal statement/essay. The other day, I stumbled upon the file that I had hidden for years and read it for the first time in seven years. I wrote about how my biggest fear was time—the fear that I would never have enough time to be great. I talked about how I could achieve greatness if I was ever given enough time. I’ll let you see:
“My biggest fear is time. We can’t see it or physically touch it yet we revolve our whole life around time. I fear that time will get the best of me. I fear that no matter how far I go or how hard I try all the time in the world would never be enough to accomplish the greatness I wish to achieve.
I want to be brilliant, make a change, be better than I could ever possibly fathom. I know I am capable. I know I can strive to reach my fullest potential. I can push past my limitations in order to attain my wildest ambitions. I just don’t know if time will allow me. I know, whole heartedly, that I can and I will do everything in my power to make it a reality.”
Ugh… she was so full of hope, yet miserable. I was eighteen, thinking all the time would pass me by. I was worried that I would never have enough time, and the truth is, I won’t.
I remember that girl who wrote that essay. I remember that “greatness” she was talking about only had to do with money and becoming a doctor. So, no, I will never have enough time in the world to achieve “greatness.”
The person I am now would never deem “greatness” as money or intelligence. My past definition was what society fed me to believe would make me happy, and I was well-fed. Yet for years, I felt so starved. Starving for any feeling of fulfillment. I was young, so very lost. I wish I could go back and hug her, tell her that no amount of money in our bank account nor how many patients we help in a hospital would ever bring us any bit of happiness. That path to happiness would be unattainable and would actually become our own personal hell.
But I wouldn’t go back and change it for the world. Sometimes spending years miserable and lost is what you need to give yourself a chance to find yourself again. I had to fall back in love with life. I had to hug a fucking tree and see that the world is much bigger than what society deems it to be.
I had to learn that a career will always be secondary to me. I don’t care what my job is, as long as it gives me enough money to love my life. I want to live.
I want to sit on top of a mountain and eat lukewarm chili. I want to write silly little poems while swaying in a hammock in the middle of spring. I want to lay in the sun for hours at a time on a kayak, going slowly downstream. I want to spend hours tending to one loaf of bread that I stretch and fold every thirty minutes. I want to love my life. I don’t care what my job is, as long as it gives me enough money to love my life.
So, at twenty-five and with a fully developed frontal lobe, I can tell you that your greatness is what you define it to be. I achieve greatness every day in the mundane, and so can you.