Playing Hide and Seek with My Future

Dreaming can take you to wonderful places. At least that was what my father told me. Eight years ago, while I sat in my room, chin on my folded up knees, I asked myself what exactly I wanted to be when I grew up. As usual, my brain came up with billions of seemingly brilliant ideas; I could be a journalist, or better yet a news host, I could be an actor, or maybe even a politician, I could be a business woman, or I could just be the doctor my parents wanted me to be. Everything came to a screeching halt.
A doctor; it is what almost every parent wants for their child. They would have knowledge that their child could save people’s lives, would be making money that could help those without healthcare, and even have the status of an intelligent individual who has done well for themselves; the doctor that would be the pride of the family.
Nine year-old me breathed out a sigh. All the things I wanted to become, all the things I wanted to do, none of them seemed conceivable, or rather, none of them seemed conceivable to my dad. A doctor was what he wanted me to be; and a doctor was what I didn’t want to be. Having high hopes for his children wasn’t wrong of my dad. I understood that he had dreams once too. He never talked about his life before coming to America and even after putting together all the pieces, all the hints, I only came up with the bare minimum, if even that.
Dad lost both his parents while growing up in the country sides of Bangladesh, long before he turned twenty. He used to be a rebellious child. He told me that once, a sad look on his face, and that he never appreciated his parents when he had them. He told me about what he wanted back then, how he used to be lazy and that what he had now wasn’t what he wanted to give us. He wanted to provide us with more, much more. He wanted us to work hard and focus and dream dreams that we would be able to achieve through all the hard work. He wanted us to be happy. He wanted us to never have regrets.
After losing his parents at a young age, my dad went through a lot of hardships, none of which he ever explained in detail. Even still, he did everything he could possibly do in his situation. Who is to say that it wasn’t enough? With everything I have now, with the life he has provided me, I wanted to show him that maybe, just maybe, I could find my own true happiness in this hectic world, even if I didn’t follow the path he wanted me to.
Back to that fateful night eight years ago, I strengthened my resolve. The pressure was constantly looming. I only had so much time before my parents knew that I was trying to find another career path for myself. Regardless of how I explained it, to them, it would be running away, a disappointment. Still, to me, it would be the deciding factor for my future. I wanted to seek out my own potential, my own suitable career. And so began the chaos that is my life.
Fifth grade saw me to win my very first of many science fairs. So a scientist? Maybe. Sixth grade saw me to drawing out my school’s garden plan. So an architect? Probably not. Seventh grade saw me to winning desktop publishing awards. Graphic designing?Just a hobby. Eighth grade saw me to being school president. A politician? That plan went out the window when I failed to win the ninth grade election at my high school. Every day was stressful, not because I was pressed for time to find a career. That wasn’t possible. I was prepared for there to be multiple failures. No, it was the fortitude, ingenuity, and endurance that made me frazzled. There was so much to do, so much I desperately wanted to do. And so I did; nothing held me back, not even the thought that all this could amount to nothing.
I spent my days drinking in every bit of knowledge I could find, through whatever ways I could find: playing the flute in the band, giving motivational speeches at large cultural events, writing poetry and articles and having them published, drawing and winning art contests, connecting with the patients at HUP while I volunteered, and even something as simple (hardly) as putting up with my brothers at home. I hadn’t found my dream career yet and the pressure had finally caught up. The constant drive was still inside me, pushing me to seek out more opportunities yet I felt helpless, at a loss of what to do with myself. Did I really want to be a doctor? I honestly didn’t have an answer.
Seven years after the fateful night of decision, another crucial moment took place. I sat in the same exact position, with my chin on my folded up knees, yet this time, my father sat across from me.
“A parent asks his child to get him the moon, so what do you do,” he asked me. I pondered the question and answered. “Get the moon for him,” I told him. “Is it for the parent to decide how to get it or the child,” he pushed. “The child to find whatever ways possible,” I replied with resignation. I knew where this was going. It was the usual lecture, the usual pressure, always the usual. My father smiled. “I am proud of you,” he said. It was like my heart stopped beating, like the weight of the world had been lifted off my shoulders, my heart squeezing in glee. “No matter what you become in the future,” he said while brushing my bangs back, “you will always be my pride and joy.” Those words are the highlight of my life. “Dreaming,” I started. “Can take you to wonderful places,” he finished. I breathed in a deep sigh.
What is my first choice of a career? No idea. What did I choose to study before I got to the point where I had to decide? Biology. It was finally a choice, no longer a requirement, no longer the child who was being pushed in the wanted direction by her parents. It was me, making the decision for myself, to do what I wanted to do, while still making my parents proud. I was finally in my own wonderful place. I was not disheartened with the fact that everything I did had almost nothing to do with my choice of what to study. Every little thing contributed to my happiness at the moment. It was every little thing that changed my father’s mind. The pressure had been lifted and the chaos had been put to order.