I'm finishing up this gap year now. It's been the hardest year of my life thus far, I think. It began the day after graduation, when I began studying for the MCAT. I had to say goodbye to friends and so many things I loved. We played a drinking game as we tore down the #blanketfort. Every time we cut twine or pulled out a pin that held it up, we drank. My friends sarcastically (but then also really) held me down as I did the job. It represented so much. And it created an atmosphere that I've never felt before but hope to feel again.
Then I moved back to Texas. I studied and studied. But I didn't have the six months I needed. I had two and a half. I went to pool parties with friends in Dallas and studied for the MCAT while I was there. I drank the most liquor at once that I've ever done, and consequently had the worst hangover I've ever had. But God even used that for my benefit I think, getting me out of a situation.
And in the midst of studying, I got a call. And I said "yes". I was offered the chance to replace someone who'd dropped out of a medical mission trip to South America. I didn't even know where we were headed at first, but all travel and stuff had already been paid for. And so I went a few weeks later and it was an incredible example of a doctor working in the world of medicine and in ministry. Their family was there too, teenage daughters. Such an incredible example of what my future could be. And it also gave me the chance to be useful, to have purpose, which is what I absolutely adore about being a missionary.
A week after that trip, I began working at the neurologist's office. It was an enormous privilege, and I don't think I was qualified, but they took me on just the same. An unpaid intern for a month, then (after I accidentally deceived them) I became a full-time medical assistant.
That's right. I did it. I did what my family (on my dad's side at least) had always made out to be the pinnacle of human worth: a full-time job. And I learned that I don't like it. I listened to "Making Money" by Ben Rector very frequently during my hour-long commute to remind me that the low hourly wage wasn't my reason for working there. I had the privilege of working for a very good doctor, and to have a huge amount of patient interaction. After a time, my reason for getting up in the morning (SO EARLY) wasn't to please the office manager or even the doctor. I got up because people needed help and I was essential for getting them that help in a timely manner.
The patient base grew when I joined, which I firmly believe is something beyond correlation. Things get blessed when I'm around because I'm a real Christian. Another doctor retired and did something apparently unheard of, passing on all of his patients to the doctor I worked for. And then the medical assistant who taught me most everything I knew (and was far better at it) turned in her two weeks' notice. I was part-time at this point because I had realized that working full time is the worst, but the office manager asked me if I would go full time for the sake of giving him time to hire a better replacement. And then the office manager fired the receptionist (which he was totally right to do) and all the while, the practice was growing with the number of patients to handle, so I was already working two jobs, but then had to work another. Three jobs at once at the office was happening for a time, and then when replacements came, I couldn't train anyone like I had been trained because I was working three jobs and just trying to pass one of them off so I could keep my head above water.
But one bright spot in the middle of that came when I was talking to the doctor in her office after work and she told me that she was "impressed" with how I'd been handling everything. My reply was that I was just trying to keep my head above water.
Throughout these months, I had been reading travel blogs at night before going to bed. All of these beautiful places and people writing about how much they'd learned and how much better they were from it, and here I was stuck, just helping people. I liked the job. It was mentally stimulating and seeing patients also helped my communication skills like crazy. When I interviewed for my future med school, I was fantastic on the phone 'cause a lot of my job was on the phone. But when I got home for the day, or even on the weekend, I didn't want to do anything. No editing that video from the Amazon, no creative side projects you promised yourself you'd complete after graduating from college, NOTHING. Just drink the bottle of wine you earned by taking care of patients and lose yourself in a movie and then pass out. I didn't socialize that often 'cause my friends weren't as great of people and I didn't want to get worse. I was also incredibly thrift 'cause everything was done with the idea in mind that every penny saved is a penny to use in Europe. At first, I was driving to Arkansas every other week to visit friends. But then, two things happened: it was expensive and they got used to it. So I stopped visiting for a month or two at a time, and I liked that friends appreciated my presence more. But I saw them less...
And then a beautiful thing happened. A lot of my friends graduated. I got to see them fairly frequently and things were looking up. But then I got accepted into a medical school and received enough denials from others to be sure of what was going on. I had somewhere to go now. This meant that I could finally plan my trip to Europe. So just when my friends were all moving back to the same area, when we were all excited to have a little group to hang out with all the time, I made my Europe plans. I bought the plane tickets and informed the office manager that I was leaving for Europe and probably wouldn't be coming back to work (a month and a half in advance, 'cause two weeks' notices are stupid at a doctor's office). I trained the new employees who would replace me and began the process of dreading the decision I had made. I didn't do Europe the way that people do Europe. I was going there to better myself, to face challenges and meet people and to not have money. It was a walkabout, a sabbatical. And I knew that if I did it the way I planned to do it, I wouldn't like it. So instead of dreaming about traveling, I secretly loathed it. It's like having a big test coming up, except that everyone is jealous that you get to take it because it looks more like a hand painting station. It was so much harder than hand painting.
But I did it. I ditched my friends and family and left a great many comforts behind and immersed myself in a way that I'd never been challenged to do before. I learned that real Christians are even harder to come by than I'd thought (and I wasn't exactly rounding up before). I learned that I have an almost-Canadian accent because it's so easy to understand, and that my sister's accent is far more southern. I learned what it's like to be conned and how it never settles well if you try to even things out against someone else if you've been conned. I learned to be a jerk in times of need. I learned that I am much more attractive than the average person, and learned to stop being so impressed with a girl just because she speaks/is French. Girl, I'm still way prettier than you. I learned that, at least from those I saw, there appear to be more attractive men than women in the world. I learned that there are a LOT of attractive women in Turkey, but I also learned that their culture is INCREDIBLY foreign. I learned to stop caring about looking really good every time I go outside (but I'm working on correcting that back to good standards). I learned that I'm into way too young of girls, and that it's dangerous to flirt in bars in Europe because the drinking age can be as low as 16 (and people often have fake IDs). I learned that snuggling for body heat can make a girl like you a LOT and it can be hard to shake. This reiterated the point that I'm good looking and it's a problem until I find someone whose looks will complement mine a lil' and we get hitched and all that.
I also learned that I missed my friends and the ideal time of friendship that I had left behind. I learned that I don't ever want to backpack through Europe like this again, at least not for this length of time. I learned that Europe needs Christ more than a lot of places I've been. Europe needs real Christians. I learned just how much I appreciate clean clothes and showers. I learned to appreciate having a car with good mileage, so I never, EVER have to worry about finding a place to sleep or a way to get somewhere. I learned, more than ever, that I wish I had someone to share it all with.
And then I got back. Aside from attending a friend's wedding, the first two or three weeks after my return are a blur. I slept soundly and drank wine and loudly watched movies on a tv without having to care about other people in a hostel or waking up the next day or anything else. I hung out with my brothers (usually one or the other) pretty constantly, depending on who was living at the same house as me. After working so much on keeping my accent pure, I learned to slur my speech and mess with words again, because my family gets bored of the English language and enjoys making it more difficult. I did odd jobs for my parents, moving furniture or doing chores. I went to my family's 4th of July party where my aunt and uncle laughed in my face when I told them I was underpaid and overworked when I had my job. I was quietly informed that my assessment was incorrect, though they knew nothing of the situation I had been in. And from there, I've really mostly been trying to cram as much NetFlix through my eye sockets as possible, 'cause I'll soon be without it. We'll get NetFlix on the island, but I won't be using it.
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