We’re so obsessed with knowing. Knowing who we are. Knowing where we’re going. Knowing how the future will play out, or who we will fall in love with. Knowing what we’re meant to do or where we’re supposed to end up. Knowing the person we should be, the person we are, the person we will become.

We want to know everything.

And so much of my life has been lived that way – searching, looking, wanting.

I’ve been on a constant loop – a record on repeat – scratching the vinyl, droning on and on in seamless static. I keep thinking that if I try hard enough, if I push myself a little more, I’ll figure this whole thing out. I’ll understand what path I’m supposed to be walking on, what steps I’m supposed to take.

I’ve always been one to plan, to lay out the map before me and plot out a route. When it comes to the unknown, I’ve struggled.

I want to know.
I want to understand.
I want to choose.

But what I’ve realized is I don’t have any control.

***

Doctors spend a lot of time focused on the future, planning it, working towards it. But at some point you start to realize your life is happening now. Not after med school, not after housemanship, right now. 

This is it.

It's here.

Blink and you'll miss it.

We spend our whole lives worrying about the future, planning for the future, trying to predict the future. As if figuring it out will somehow cushion the blow. But the future is always changing. The future is the home of our deepest fears and our wildest hopes.

But one thing is certain: When it finally reveals itself, the future is never the way we imagined it.