On "that" year

Kingaroy, QLD

2006. I was 24 still. I was a child still. But before I tell you about that year, I’ll give you a speedy run-down on my life until then. Age -9 months: my mummy meets my daddy. Age -6 months: my mummy finds out the father of her daughter is also father to 14 other children before her. Ages 0-9 years: growing up in El Salvador, a country with low literacy amongst those of my social class, and in a single-parent family where no-one has ever finished high school even. Age 6: I “decide” to become a doctor like the “cool” guy my mum works for as a cleaner/nurse. Ages 6-22: still stubborn about wanting to be like that cool guy. Age 23: finally start medical school. Ages 23-24: study, study, study. And then 2006 came along…

Things got tough for me in 2006 and my second so-called “depressive” episode happened. I lost the joy in everything, study was a hassle, I became morbidly preoccupied with my own mortality, a great solitude and loneliness came over me, and I wanted nothing because simply wanting anything required effort. The social withdrawal and pathological shyness again set inside me. Then I got into a situation where a false accusation was made against me. I was feeling pressure from my religious peers and my internalized God concept. In essence, I felt deficient. I felt lacking. And I felt dead inside – and then the feeling to externalize what I felt inside came over me. I lacked the motivation, the energy and willpower to do even that. Fearing my own internal monsters, I chose instead to go again in search of Vanessa.

Once I left everything, I felt both a great freedom and a complete hatred and fear of that freedom. There were no friends, no company on my journey, I had some advice but which felt more like orders. I had no allies – and I didn’t want anything or anyone even if there had been such people there. At first the numbness overwhelmed me and I was as a ghost walking around (which I recognized because this was not the first time in my life I have had these “episodes”). Gradually, over the next few weeks, reality and the mundane started to creep in. I needed to eat, pay bills, move, reply to the questions that were being asked of me. I started then to formulate my own questions. Who is Vanessa? And yet, not so much who is she but who does she want to be? Why does she want to be that? Does she really want to be that? What does being that entail, the practicality of it? And what of everything else? What is important? Who is important? Who, if anyone, is my friend? And what do I do with these things I love but won’t make me any income? And what should I do about these things that keep pestering me, these things others call conscience? You’ll often hear me diss and complain about the ‘white man’s stupid concept of “finding themselves”’, but you could say that that is what I set out to do.

Specifically I had some questions to answer and that was my quest in this time without commitment to study to answer. Formulating the questions was the easy part. Even finding the answers while on the quest wasn’t that hard. Finding what you’re looking for is easier when you know what it is you’re looking for. The hardest part was making the decision to take a break from my study, my big commitment at that time, to go on my quest. I risked a lot. I risked losing my friends, my family’s belief in me, jeopardising potentially years and years of prior education (and money), and losing my credibility. But I made the choice and I then had to go exploring my questions, myself, trying out different scenarios and risk finding out that my whole life had been a sham. But sometimes not knowing is as deleterious as finding out an unpleasant truth.

The second part of my task, after walking away from it all, was easy: I had the question that needed to be answered. Did I really want to do medicine as a career or was it a childhood dream of mine that I expressed and no-one ever had the courage to shut me down about it despite all the odds being stacked against me? I was a poor kid in a third world country where tertiary education costs more than entire families need to survive. It was a nice fantasy that they let me believe for a long time – until fate and relocation made my dream a possibility. But I was always a stubborn person, did I want to go into medicine purely as a whim? To prove people wrong and that I could do it? They were questions, and I answered them fairly quickly, actually. I think that giving yourself the space to not feel judged is very empowering. People may still be judging you, and I remember a lot of “friends” and even family members discounting me as a drop-out, as someone with no stamina, as a loser. But me, I gave myself the space I needed, I didn’t need anyone’s permission to explore my own life and motivations.

Like I said, the process of answering my questions took a remarkably quick time after I let go of the restraints I allowed to be placed on me by society, by other people’s expectations, by my own pride, and by my pessimism and distorted view of ‘reality’. And in the process, I learnt not only who I in fact was, but also to no longer despise myself for not being what was ‘expected’ of me. The answer to my questions were:  yes, medicine is what I, Vanessa, want to work in; and this will be a job like any other. I came to this conclusion by considering the things I enjoy (writing, visual arts, and film and theatre) and the things that I could bear to do for income. I could not bear to do anything other than medicine as income, and I’d perhaps do it even without income if something else where somehow feeding me. At the same time I was able to explore many aspects of the medical profession, and I had no grand illusions about it like a lot of people do, illusions of ‘saving’ people or of ‘making a difference’. I came to understand a lot of the industrial and organisational psychology of the business. And I became comfortable with what I learnt.

The rest came easy. The friends elected themselves by being the only ones standing when everyone else had gone. I bit the bullet and made a religious commitment. I got a “money” job because I was already planning for my future and my dream to see the wild condors in the Andes in South America. I in fact spent the remaining months of that year killing time by working and entertaining myself until my return to uni and getting on with my task of achieving the next task on the journey. So guess what I do now for work? Medicine. And guess what I do for passion? Write. And I can now unashamedly say that my name is Vanessa and I know exactly who Vanessa is.

Condor! Colca Canyon - Arequipa, Peru