Finding Purpose at the Finish Line
Sometimes, surviving someone else’s dream teaches you more than chasing your own.
When I was a kid, I had a lot of dreams. One day, I wanted to be a businesswoman. The next day, a teacher. Sometimes, an engineer. Once, an astronaut floating through space. Another time, a lawyer arguing in court.
It shifted constantly — my imagination had no boundaries. But one weekend morning in 2011, something changed.
I was curled up on the couch in my pajamas, mindlessly flipping channels, when I landed on an episode of NCIS: Los Angeles. I didn’t know what it was. I just stopped.
Crime scenes, agents solving mysteries, the science behind the investigations — it was like my brain lit up. It felt like finding the missing puzzle piece. Like, yes, this is what I was meant to do. I wanted to chase clues, study traces, understand the science behind crime scenes. I wanted to wake up every day with that kind of purpose.
But, as you can probably guess, life had other plans.
My mother didn’t agree. Actually — she threatened me. She gave me two options: Nursing or Pharmacy. And if I didn’t choose one, I might as well drop out.
I didn’t understand it then. Honestly? I still don’t. I’ve always respected nurses. Deeply. The work they do, the strength they show, the compassion they carry every single day — it’s something I admire endlessly. But I knew myself. I wasn’t built for that. The pressure, the long hours, the emotional weight — especially in exchange for a salary that often doesn’t match the sacrifice?
It just didn’t feel like a life I could thrive in.
So, I chose Pharmacy. Not because I loved it. Not even because I liked it. But because it felt like the less straining option. The lesser resistance. The safer cage. And then I got stuck.
For years, I lived in this strange gray area of being “okay.” Not bad enough to quit. Not passionate enough to love it. Just… coasting. Floating somewhere between burnout and boredom.
I got used to being average. Mediocre grades. Mediocre effort. Mediocre dreams. The complete opposite of my once high-achiever self. I told myself it was survival. That maybe someday, something would click. But Pharmacy isn’t exactly celebrated where I live. There’s a common stereotype here — pharmacists are just sellers. Not healers. Not scientists. Just people who hand out medicine behind the counter. They’re not given the same respect as doctors. Sometimes not even the same as nurses or anyone in the medical field, really.
It’s frustrating. It’s disheartening. But I kept going. I did the work. All 960 hours of internship, split into three worlds that couldn’t be more different.
- First, the community pharmacy.
That’s where I learned people skills. How to explain without preaching. How to listen.
It taught me how essential a simple smile or tone of voice could be to someone picking up medicine. - Then the manufacturing company.
A whole new level of discipline.
Where the science behind every pill came to life — measuring, calculating, and washing beakers.
It made me see that pharmacy wasn’t just about selling. It was about precision. Responsibility. Accuracy. Integrity. - Then came the hospital.
And that was where it hit the hardest.
Real patients. Real consequences. Real pressure.
And yet, somehow, it felt fuller.
More human.
That’s where I met some of the most inspiring people. Mentors. Peers. Patients.
Each one left something in me. A story. A lesson. A reason to stay just a little longer. Still, there were nights when I wanted to drop out. So many times. I didn’t want this life. I didn’t feel seen in it. I didn’t feel proud.
It felt like surviving someone else’s dream.
But I stayed. Even when I doubted every step. Even when I didn’t feel passionate or “called.” Even when I felt invisible in a white coat that never quite fit right.
I stayed.
I finished the hours.
I passed the tests.
I sat through the stress, the tears, the mental breakdowns.
And now…
It’s April. My graduation is more than a month away.
And I’m still conflicted.
I’m not standing here saying, I’ve found my purpose!
I’m not claiming that I now love Pharmacy with my whole heart.
But I can say this:
I’ve grown.
I’ve learned.
I’ve shown up — even when I didn’t want to.
Even when no one cheered. Even when no one noticed.
Maybe that’s a kind of strength too, because not all journeys are romantic. Sometimes the path you walk is not the one you would’ve chosen — but it still teaches you. It shapes you. Still shows you things about yourself you wouldn’t have seen otherwise.
I may not have chased my dream. But I chased something — and I made it through.
So maybe I didn’t fall in love with Pharmacy. But somewhere along the way, I found respect.
For the work.
For the process.
For myself.
And maybe that’s what matters most, because passion doesn’t always greet you at the starting line.
Sometimes, it waits for you at the finish.
