Welcome to The Heart Song, a publication and movement sharing stories of hope from humanity. Here you will witness voices from around the world sharing their voice through story - their heart’s song. Today, we hear from Louh on walking the road less traveled. Thank you for being here. Thank you for your vulnerability. Thank you for supporting this movement. Take it away, Louh.
As I sit on the couch, writing this piece, watching the rain outside, I can't help but feel a sense of heaviness settling in. The weather is dreary, the air cold and humid, and the atmosphere dense. I must admit, rain has never been my favorite companion; it triggers a cocoon-like state within me, an urge to retreat into the comfort of my bed and lose myself in the nothingness of my room's ceiling.
And in these moments of silence, thoughts that were once hidden in the depths of my subconscious emerge, like curious children seeking my undivided attention. They beg to be acknowledged, to be brought to the surface, and to be explored.
It's a strange feeling, this simultaneous desire to hide away and confront my innermost thoughts. But perhaps that's the magic of the rain - it invites me to dive into my own depths, to discover what lies beneath the surface, and to ultimately find a deeper understanding of what I’m about to write right now…
It has been approximately six months since I graduated from college, and in that time, I have found myself retreating from social media (from my personal accounts to be exact), from the constant barrage of questions and expectations that seem to follow me like shadows.
I have become conscious, perhaps even unconsciously, of my desire to withdraw from the people I once knew, from the expectations that weighed upon my shoulders like a heavy cloak. Who wants to respond to messages that demand to know one's plans, one's goals, one's next steps?
The prospect of answering questions about my journey toward medical school, about my dreams and aspirations, still triggers something within me, a reminder of the naivety of youth, of the certainty with which I once declared my future.
I had believed, with all the hope and optimism of a dreamer, that my path was set in stone, that I would be a doctor by 2028. How could I have known then what I know now, that the future is not a straight path, but a winding road that can lead us in unexpected directions?
I see now that my dreams were not solely my own, but were shaped by the expectations of my family, by the pressures of an Asian family dynamic that equates success with specific occupations, with logic-based jobs that fit within a narrow definition of achievement.
And in this realization, I find myself questioning the assumptions that have guided me for so long, the beliefs that have bound my sense of self to the approval of others, to the expectations of those around me. Are logic-based jobs truly the only path to success? Or is success, perhaps, a more complex concept, one that encompasses not only professional achievement, but also personal fulfillment, emotional well-being, and the freedom to define one's own path?
As I watch my classmates begin their medical journeys and others have embarked on careers outside of the medical field, I find myself wrestling with a mixture of emotions. There is joy, certainly, in seeing their accomplishments, in celebrating their growth and evolution. But there is also a twinge of doubt, a questioning of my own path, my own decisions.
"Why did I take a gap year?" I ask myself, wondering if I should have followed in their footsteps, if I should have allowed myself to be swayed by the pressure of my family, of my classmates. But upon further reflection, I realize that succumbing to external pressures from them could have led to an unfruitful outcome. Had I not taken the time to evaluate my readiness, I might have struggled to cope with the demands of medical school, potentially leading to burnout or a negative impact on my mental health.
Despite my rational understanding, I find myself grappling with the all-too-human tendency to compare my situation to others. It is an easy trap to fall into, this "comparison is the thief of joy" mindset, where feelings of inferiority can arise in the face of the accomplishments of those around me.
Yet, I remind myself that comparison is not solely a thief of joy. It is also a reminder that each of us walks a unique path. My journey is not theirs, and theirs is not mine. As I continue down this road less traveled, I am reminded of the wisdom of Robert Frost: "Two roads diverged in a wood, and I - I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference."
And so, this divergence, this path less traveled, is a journey of redefinition. It is me turning my attention back to the Source, to the greatest teacher of all: life and nature itself. It is me surrendering to the currents, rather than resisting them, allowing myself to be carried along on the ebb and flow of existence.
And in this surrender, in this embrace of the journey, I find a sense of purpose, of acceptance. I commit to living and loving myself wholly, to embracing all that has been, all that is, all that will be.
I am so so so grateful for the opportunity to share my story and to have my voice heard. Writing this piece was deeply personal, as it required me to delve into hidden aspects of my mind. I hope that my story can provide comfort and inspiration to others who may be going through similar experiences. Thank you Kaitlyn for holding the space for me to share my truth and for allowing me to connect with a wider community of individuals who understand the power of vulnerability and authenticity :)
Louh's words brought me to tears, both in joy for her, and nostalgia for myself. I was brought back to a time when I was beginning my own journey. It always begins at this crossroads, this choice point in our lives that asks us to begin to honor the truth and compass of our hearts. It is such a courageous path, and I'm honoring you today and everyday, Louh.