I hug my pink stuffed bear, Marcy, to my chest as the doctor talks to my parents about the restrictions I have for the next month. A few hours have passed since my heart ablation and my head is slightly groggy from the anesthesia. I listen to the doctor prescribe medicines for the next few weeks and instruct my parents on what I can and cannot do.

Two days pass and I’m finally allowed to go home. The doctor performs one last check up and says my heart is finally in good shape. Even though there is still an extra pathway in my heart, it won’t cause as much damage as it did before the ablation.

Not even three months after my 10th birthday, I’m back at the hospital, but this time it’s not because of my heart condition. My doctor admits me and my parents and I are required to stay here for three days. My mom’s eyes are red and puffy. I ask her what’s wrong, but all she does is give me a smile, tells me she is alright and tells me to get better.

I’m clueless to what is going on.

Am I sick?

When dawn breaks, the doctor comes into my room and I am frightened for what she is about to say. She begins by talking to my parents and the suspense starts to kill me. I take a deep breath and begin to think she will announce I am dying. But I can’t be any more wrong. Finally, she looks me in the eye and breaks the ice.

I have diabetes.

At that moment, I enter the dark. 

What did I do to deserve this?

My depression with diabetes lasts until the end of middle school. I feel ashamed because of my condition and blame myself daily. But with the help of my family and friends, I work hard throughout the years to come back into the light.

I’m grateful for everything my doctors did for me, from treating my heart condition to helping me treat my diabetes. I begin to think long and hard about what career I want to pursue when I get older, except there is no doubt to what I want to be.

Both my parents are nurses, and the majority of my family is in the medical field. I feel a great need to follow in their footsteps. I don’t just want to be a nurse, but a nurse practitioner who interacts with patients instead of only checking vitals and waiting for the doctors’ orders. Most of all, I aspire to work at the very hospital that helped me one day as a way to thank them for everything they did for me.

During the summer before my sophomore year, I hit a new type of low. I begin a relationship with my first-ever boyfriend and as the summer goes on, I feel a sense of despair. We fight nearly every day about anything and everything. I feel like I am stuck in a box.

After numerous fights with him, I talk to my mom about it and she attempts to give me the best advice for my situation. But it doesn’t help. I spiral down in a depression to the point I have to see a psychologist to vent out my feelings. I talk to my psychologist about all the fights we’re having and how it’s affecting me negatively.

After months of appointments to my psychologist’s office, I’m ready to leave the toxic situation I’m in. Not only did I mature, I came into a new realization about what I want to do in my life. I realize I still want to help people out and guide them in the right direction, but not in a strictly medical way.

The next two years pass and I’m keen on my career choice. I take a sociology class during my junior year and my love for helping people increases. The majority of my friends come to me for advice and I start to gain a mother’s instinct.

At this point, I feel the pressure from my parents to enter the medical field higher than ever. Since telling them about my decision, my parents attempt in every way possible to convince me to become a nurse instead of a psychologist. They use reasons such as the salary a nurse receives compared to a psychologist and all the hard work I’ll have to put in to obtain a bachelors and working my way up to getting a doctorate. But no matter what they tell me, my mind is set on becoming a psychologist.

After taking a psychology class my senior year, I know it is the right choice. I can’t imagine doing anything else with my life. With that, I begin to apply to colleges for a Bachelor of Science in Psychology.

Looking back, I realize I can create a difference no matter what career I choose. Whether in psychology or nursing, I am responsible for choosing my destiny. Just like my family, I’ll still be able to help others and follow in their footsteps. Even if I don’t end up working at the hospital that treated me, I know I will be doing something I’m truly passionate about.