When we are born, there is such a presence about us. We need physical caring and nurturing to tend to our needs, as we are unable to provide them for ourselves. As we grow, as any parent would attest, the little one’s personality begins to emerge, and certain qualities are brought out into the world, unique to that person in the way they express them. These are brought out so very naturally, but begin to be overshadowed – at first by that time we call the “terrible twos” and through parental attempts to control such behaviour, but if not then, certainly by the time we start school.

School begins in us the process of learning (if not at home) to face the front, to listen when adults are talking, to sit when you are told to sit, not to speak without raising your hand, not to touch this, don’t play with that; we are instructed not to do certain things that may be deemed unacceptable. Some of these things may curb our natural expression. Because, on the whole, this way is accepted as societally necessary for the education of children, it is a process that creates square pegs of these marvellous spherical beings that come into the world.

As we grow, we are often asked a seemingly innocuous question: What do you want to be when you grow up? Unfortunately, this is no innocent question: it comes laced with the expectations of the person who is asking, and as young people, we are able to clock this and deliver a response in the realm of acceptability – unless we are reacting and want to shock them, of course. This contributes to shaving more off our natural self, helping to shape a person who is not entirely true to who they are, but conforms to the way the world outside seeks us to be.

The further problem with this question that is a curse is it assumes we are unable to be ourselves when we “grow up”. The WHAT part of the question is a blank to be filled with the career/job/role we identify, either as best fits our modified self as we come to know, to fit the societal expectations upon us, or otherwise to deliver us some form of recognition, some accolade, fame, fortune or other desired outcome. We go about taking steps in the world to bring about if not prove our determination to make this “being” come about. None more obvious when we hit high school, we make subject choices that seem at the time to be the making or otherwise of what you are ever going to be able to do in life. This comes at the expense of the loveliness we knew as children and when delivered, never fails to fall short of the mark, when we had so hoped it would provide for us the answer to that increasing sense of loss inside of us.

For me, my early personal traits made nursing an obvious choice. Then as I grew and I saw what roles women played in the world, I thought hairdressing would be fun, as I loved to play with images and innocently loved that intimacy of touch. I grew up even further, so my height and looks often attracted comments about being a flight attendant: I could easily reach the overhead lockers. I dismissed this at age 16, when I found an airline carrier at the time had a height limit, and I was already over it!

However, from the age of 8 I had been enrolled in the local dance school. When our ballet teacher allowed us ‘free’ dance, I loved closing my eyes and seeing a kaleidoscope of colours and shapes from nature, which translated in some way into the real world when I moved my body to the music. This then HAD to become some part of my future adult life, as I enjoyed it so much (and was so good at it).

My parents were keen for me to ‘get a profession’, and over time, this connection with dance was conglomerated with ideas of studying the human body, of doing massage; eventually articulating this convoluted arrangement as: “I want to be a physiotherapist for a dance company”. It was perfect. Unable to perform to the high standards I saw in the professional dance world, and with a height over 2m en pointe, I could not see my way clear for a future in my beloved ballet. Massage training at the time was associated with the suggestion of prostitution, and could not be considered ‘professional’. So, at the age of 15-16, in Grade 10, having received the careers guide booklet, I chose physiotherapy as my way to achieve the ultimate future job: working with fit young bodies, watching ballet from the wings and travelling the world.

I thought it was perfect. I had never been to a physiotherapist, much less talked to one. There were no true role models for me and there was such a pressure to know what you wanted, and I really thought I did!

After a year in B. Nursing (QUT), I upgraded to physiotherapy at University of Queensland. Notoriously hard to get into, I felt I did not fit. I was not overly keen on sport; I had by then stopped dance classes and did not really look after my body or exercise. Ironically, I had taken up smoking while studying nursing, and by then legally able to buy alcohol, continued to party through weekends. I pursued a relationship too – a musician at the Queensland Conservatorium – and together we descended further into a world of late nights, sex and drugs.

This led me into a particular troublesome period of my life. I dropped out of uni and into the workforce, taking an admin position at one of the local hospitals at the age of 20. I was in a typing role for the Allied Health Department, so I worked alongside physiotherapists, occupational therapists, nutritionist-dieticians and social workers. The work itself was enjoyable enough, but I felt very let down, because my ‘dream’ job was no longer accessible and it seemed I had failed.

To cope with this pain, I medicated myself regularly with alcohol and drugs. From within this haze, together with the well-meaning encouragement from the staff I worked with, I tried to reclaim what it was I had been looking for in the ‘physiotherapist for a dance company’ job. I had tried and failed with the physiotherapy part, so thought: let’s try the dance! Influenced by the drug-induced haze I was unaware surrounded me daily, I successfully applied for B. Creative Industries (Dance) at QUT, then a new course, with the intent to become a dance therapist.

After five years’ break from training, daily dance classes were gruelling and performed in the context of my lifestyle at the time – late nights partying and enough substances that really did not support my optimal function – it was never going to succeed. I came off worse for wear a very short time later. It was a dark time, but it began the much-needed shake-up I required to stop mucking around with my life, my body and my health.

Slowly I began the task of extracting myself from a circle of friends that had encouraged me in all things party. I was deeply hurting as a young woman and needed little push to get into substances that seemingly took the pain away, altering my behaviour in the process, of course. In truth, they never removed the pain, merely burying it deeply out of my conscious awareness. I did not like who I became when I took drugs, and these were the first things to go, not least because they pose such a threat to mental health.

Over the years, while this personal process was going on, I completed a B. Creative Industries (Interdisciplinary) with Distinction, transferring to creative writing, where I began share these recent life experiences that had made me so very vulnerable. I worked in medical administration, in roles behind computers, not having to deal with people too much, where I honed my typing speed and spelling skills, learning the terminology required to transcribe doctors’ letters. I had several relationships that helped me grow, but I continued to feel a deep dissatisfaction.

Some nine years later, in 2011, this came to a head. I was living interstate with my then partner of four years, engaged and on the cusp of buying the lovely house we had been renting. We had a large circle of friends, yet I felt isolated. I had some health problems – the reproductive ones were recognised and the mental ones were not. I sought support from local health practitioners but very arrogantly thought I knew the answers. At the personal level though, on a daily basis I was struggling. The work situation became untenable and I did not want to be there. Despite fighting a sense of panic and depression over some time, it was when my psychologist-partner told me he would no longer ‘help’ me by listening to my unending stories any longer, that I snapped.

The support that was there for me in this space was enormous. I describe it as face-planting rock bottom – it was a very difficult time. My partner had offered me his ear and his counsel over the years and I had grown reliant on him. It took me more than a year living alone, returning to my workplace and looking after myself more and more each day to understand that I could in fact deliver to myself the care that I had expected he offer me.

Through this process, building the necessary techniques for health and wellbeing with daily dedication and consistency, I have not only recovered, but have rediscovered my sense of self, lost to me since early high school. I have reignited the spark within me that knew joy every day as a child and live this now, every day, as an adult.

My partner and I broke up, I broke down and left my job, moved away, came back, returned to work and a while later, the opportunity to study medicine was presented to me. Well into my recovery at the time, I had to develop more trust in myself and in the idea that medicine was true for me. Since that moment, as I have walked every step towards getting accepted into medical school, I have confirmed my natural aptitudes, abilities and acknowledged the challenges laying before me in learning how to be with people and to serve their health in every way.

In the miracle that is my life, my true vocation came to me just 12 short months after my breakdown. After all the devastation of becoming something I am not and was never going to be – simply because it (or any career) does not encompass one’s entire being, I am blessed to have been given the ultimate of second chances. Everything about me as a human being is absolutely perfect for the study, research, practice and expression of medicine, yet none of these things actually define me. I certainly don’t know everything I need to know but I am open and willing to learn. I hold myself precious, whole, delicate, tender, and this sacredness sustains me; I don’t need to perform to perfection in exams or elsewhere, because the joy within is holding in its quality and is a definition of myself far beyond that I ever knew.

To encourage you to reconnect to that own deep sense of your self, contemplate the following questions:

WHO? You!

WHAT? A role/job title/expectation to live up to OR
something that encourages you to bring your inborn qualities to the world…?

WHEN? Do you have a timeframe – by the end of school, as soon as you graduate, by the age of 30 and if you don’t “make it” you will feel as if you have failed OR
as soon as you are ready, willing and able, in your own time, with neither push nor delay…?

WHERE? A specific part of the world/group of people because you want to live there/only work with them for whatever reason OR
a demographic or geographic region that calls for your services through which you can learn more about life in return…?

WHY? For your own personal gain/any other self-serving justification OR
because you can see a way to contribute to society to offer love and true care through how you do what you do…?

And the all important HOW? To check the boxes in life (and in so doing leave who you truly are behind) OR
do you prefer to take next most required, practical step to realise your potential, seeking support along the way?

We all receive an even greater level of all-encompassing support when we offer our services for the truth of others. None of the pathways I had tried so hard to make viable, were ever a full occupation of the all I can bring to the world when each of my talents, skills, and aptitudes are employed. Because of this, they constantly fell short of the mark. They failed my expectations and lead me to one disappointment after the next, such that I gave up on life. But life did not give up on me. I have learned that it is not what we do; it is how we do what we do that determines the outcome. It is the way we pursue our lives that determines the successful outcome; that being measured not by money, recognition or applause from others, but by the deep joy, vitality, natural abundance and wellbeing that comes from looking after ourselves, delivering all of ourselves to the service of humanity, and is confirmed by appreciation of what you bring, every single day.”

Stephanie Pommerel is a first year medical student based in Queensland.

More articles on My Health Career:

• Thriving vs only just surviving medical school – by Stephanie Pommerel
• Become a doctor – pathway infographics
• A career in medicine – the best and worst
• Doctor burnout begins younger than we think – by Dr Maxine Szramka
• Medical students go rural to get a professional edge

Images:

• Boy with stethoscope – photostock – freedigitalphotos.net
• Girl checking teddy – Stuart Miles – freedigitalphotos.net