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Now, I don't like to do this because I don't want my friends to think that I'm depressed or anything like that. But the truth is that blogging is a sort of therapy for me. I want to document what I'm feeling, when I'm feeling it. And right now, I'm absolutely, undoubtedly scared.
Let me start where it all began - freshman year. As a freshman in high school, I finally figured out what I wanted to do with my life: medicine. I could go on and on about how the medical profession fits me like a glove, but neither of us have the time for that. Regardless, when I realized that I wanted to go into such a challenging, demanding field, it became very clear that I needed to step up to the plate. My parents have always told me that freshman year was the year that changed me. I wholeheartedly agree- my motivation to do well in school skyrocketed and I became a stellar student (if I do say so myself). I began to volunteer at hospitals, shadow doctors, and gain every bit of healthcare experience that I could before it was time for me to apply to college. Even my course schedule was picked out for me to have the most rigorous, challenging academic experience. I made great standardized test scores. Overall, things seemed to be looking up for me.
During my freshman year, I also learned about specialized programs known as 'BS-MDs' which give students the opportunity to be accepted into both medical school and undergraduate school at the same time. Because I wanted to do medicine, these programs seemed perfect for me. I love the cohort environment and the strong sense of purpose associated with BS-MDs. As a senior, I applied to as many of them as I could find.
Throughout this whole process, I've considered myself as an average-to-strong candidate. I have a lot of unique experiences and I'm not one of those people who does things to check off boxes on a resume. That's just not who I am. Some of my BS-MD seeking peers do little outside of academics and school but I have completely different sides to myself- I love dance, photography, writing, and robotics. I'm not one-dimensional.
Until mid-February, I was still receiving interview invites. At first, I was excited. I had gotten interviews to schools where none of my peers, past and present, had the chance to interview at. To me, this was a great sign. Of course, I faced rejection now and then. But these were from schools that I didn't care as much about. Besides one major upset in January, the schools that I had gotten rejections from were out of state and in many ways, out of mind. Don't get me wrong, I would have gone to one of these schools if given the chance, but I wasn't broken up about not getting into them. Furthermore, I had supportive friends telling me that 'if they knew my personality, I'd be in for sure!'
I found solace in these words. After all, I still had a couple of interviews. My first went very well. I thought that it was a great program and I felt a sense of connection with the university because it was my dad's alma mater. Not to mention, I had a full ride, which was an obvious perk.
Then came my second interview. Although I don't want to mention any details here, the truth is that my interviewer asked me some very unprofessional and inappropriate questions regarding my stature. But that's another blog post of its own.
On Friday, I was soundly rejected from both programs.
In some ways, I think this weekend was the straw that broke the camel's back. Too many negative things were happening in too short a period of time. My immediate coping mechanism was to lie in my bed and cry, but after 20 minutes of that, I was done. I was not going to wallow in sadness- instead, I evolved into an incarnation that I call 'bitter Mal'.
Bitter Mal did not care about other's feelings. All she could do was talk about herself, her sadness, her pity, her her HER. She angrily snapped back at everyone who tried to reach out a helping hand to her. I pushed away people that were just trying to make me feel better and I can't tell you how much I regret that.
At this point, I don't know where I will be next year and that is very, very scary. Of course, I have a top choice program, but I haven't received word yet about an acceptance or a rejection. No information at all. And that feeling, a lack of knowing, is what scares me most of all.
The irony of all of this is that I just recently wrote a post called 'Rejection'. In some ways, I guess I should take notes from my own past self. She knew what she was talking about. It's interesting how easily we are able to advise others when we've not been in their shoes ourselves. If past me knew the status of future me's life, maybe she would reconsider the way she worded that particular piece.
I guess the point of this post is to somewhat identify where my head is at right now. I'm coming to terms with the idea that my future is not in my hands. I have to believe that where I end up going to university is where I'm meant to be. Time will tell.
Love and light,
Mal
UPDATE (3/16/16): Just got rejected from 1 of the two programs I have left. No explanation; no reasoning why. My interviews went great, too. Guess I wasn't meant to go there. We're down to 1. I didn't mention this earlier, but I have 2 Ivy league university BS-MDs that I haven't heard back from yet. At this point, it might be nice to just know.
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