Closer to 50 Nowadays

Okay. I know I procrastinated to literally the last moments. I started writing this at 9:45PM. November 14. I promise I won’t write in stream of consciousness form again. Next time will be a lot more structured. But I need to get this off my chest.

The first day of my fiftieth year is closer than the first day of my life.

So, so deep. I’m a modern-day poet. No.

I needed to have a thought. Something to capstone 25. For the past few weeks my mind has settled on this being my thought — so there you have it my faux-introspective analysis on current life.

And…well, let’s just tinker with this thought why don’t we? That thought, it sounds so daunting. It sounds like, “well the fun’s over, it’s all about the business now.” It sounds like, “well, f — k”

I would’ve been the latter if I was the same person I was two years ago. Well, I don’t think I would’ve been hitting 26 if I was the same person I was two years ago.

The Drop.

I’m the happy one right? I’m the one you see on the street, in class, or at a party with a smile. A real genuine, toothy smile? I’m happy, right?

I had this innocence with my smile in freshman and sophomore year. That smile was real, I think, but it was my nature. I smiled because I thought it was the best response for any college situation.

This made post-sophomore year a lot harder. I did not get or make a lot of good news during my junior and senior year. Most of what I was seeing was bad news. Some terrible news. My smiles were completely instinctual, not a single ounce of genuineness. I couldn’t let people know I was suffering or freaking out.

Why? I was so self-conscious. I had no idea what I was doing in college.That major that I majored in was definitely not gonna make me money. But I couldn’t quit or my parents would’ve looked at me funny.

I felt like I was falling in a bottomless hole throughout the last two years of college. But I had this stupid optimism that made me believe that things would get better soon enough.

They don’t.

Nothing was going my way. The closer I got to graduation, the more my worries started affecting me. I shared some of my worries, but they were purely societal (hopefully I’m using this word right, ah well), not personal. I told others I was worried about being so far away from my friends after college — our friendships would suffer. I would never come out of my facade though. I never said I was freaking about my lack of a future. I didn’t want people to worry about me — things get better.

“What’s your plan?”
“How’s the progress to Med School”

Oh, I would just nod along to questions like that. Everyone was asking me that (parents, uncles, aunts, cousins, siblings, and friends). “Don’t let them freak out to your freak outs! Don’t go down that rabbit hole!” I said to myself.

Graduation happened. I tried to ride that milestone as a source of happiness and momentum to my next goal — that wasn’t happening

I took the MCATs — I figured the relief would make me go on to the ambitions I made myself. Nope.

I’m purposefully making this one part vague because I think it’s selfish to try to rout out my depression from another’s event of sadness.

The pivotal moment happened sometime near the end of 2013. I finally figured out that I was sad. As I watched others suffering, I started to think about my own problems. I was not happy. I was not going to ever be happy. I will never be the same happy I was in college. I don’t have applicable job skills. I’m a freeloading sack of shit.

I wouldn’t say it. No, I’m not that. I’m the happy kid.

Bedrock.

I don’t remember most of my interactions between November 2013 until March 2015. My brain went into autopilot so it wouldn’t have to face the obvious problems.

I was living with my parents, basically unemployed. I spent days in bed, not ever getting out of it (maybe a few times to eat a stack of oreos [stack = 10 oreos]). I knew one thing: there was nothing worthwhile of life after I get up.

At least I could dream of a good life.

I have a few recurring memories of those days. Sometimes it was me cursing at God for bringing me to rock bottom. Sometimes it was me cursing at me for bringing me to rock bottom.

I definitely entertained the thought of death. There was no way of winning this game. I played my best cards too early and now all that’s left is this bad hand. If I die, maybe I can start over (that’d be nice). If I die, I won’t have to deal with this crap anymore. I never cried physically— but my soul was weary.

Every day, I had the same dark thoughts. I was gaining weight, mostly off oreos; I kept being more and more jealous of everyone else, who all seemed to be having the best lives ever; I was so tired of being a loser.

I remember that Sunday in March where I finally cracked and told my mom how I felt.

I’m so sad of my life. This isn’t where I want to be. I’m so sad that I’ve disappointed you and dad. I’m so sad I’m nowhere equal to what my friends are doing. I lost all my ambition months ago and I don’t know what to do.

That must be something, to hear that from your kid. She was kind and understanding, and tried to help me get out of the rut. She asked me what do I want to do now (since… medicine is off the table).

I told her that I was in love with medicine since I was 12 but somewhere in college, I lost that passion. I told her I care more about technology. Icare about how people use phones and computers and everything in that sphere. I told her I wanted to go to classes to become a developer. I wanted to be able to build out my ambition.

Somewhere in this conversation I fessed up to my mom that I would skip classes to watch Apple and Google events that would be happening during or around (give or take 3 hours) classes. Got the stern brow for that :|

Climbing Up

I committed to it. I was going to learn everything I needed to be a star developer. I was finally having genuine fun again. I was remembering things again (if you know me, you know my memory is really really good). I was being the old me again. I was in a classroom, just taking notes, just smiling, just throwing random musings at my teacher (I’m pretty sure he loved me for that, and I loved him for letting me do that).

The confidence I built up after those classes helped me. I was able to pick up a job pretty quickly. I found a company that synced with my passions and skills. I finally had the chance to meet new people and help every one of them. I finally had the chance to do my real dream job — just tinker with things until they worked for me. I finally had the chance to have an amazing perk: visiting places all over the world (my passport has never been this popping).

And Now We’re Here

So the first day of my fiftieth year. That’s not daunting. Oh, I know I’ll be stellar. It’s going to be one exciting challenge that I’ll definitely overcome.

I’ve been at it for a year. I’ve been in repair for a year and half. I didn’t think I’d ever get here. I never thought I would ever be happy again. I never thought I would have genuine smile on my face.

I’ll reach my aspirations. I’ll get to my ambitions (don’t ask — they almost don’t make sense). I haven’t had a bad day in the past year and half. I’m happy. And I’m going to have a whole lot of fun getting there. I’m 26 but my brain has been trying to be 19 again for the past couple of months.

Quick shoutout to my friends. All of you mean so much to me, and all of you who were with me even at my worst: Thank you again.

No. I’m not thinking of a last day yet. I’ll be fine until the first day of my hundredth year.

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