Dear Family and Friends,
The other day I was listening to a Death Sex and Money podcast about different people’s experience with being near death. One woman was in an airplane accident. Another woman was holding her sister’s hand as she took her last breath. Another woman had been diagnosed with terminal cancer. The host of the show asked her guest all of the big questions. “Do you fear death?” “Is it scary knowing you are going to die?” “Do you have any regrets?” “Does it change you?”
You asked, if it changes you. And for me, it definitely did. And not always for the better. I’d say for me, it’s made me more impatient. Every moment has to matter, but then it doesn’t.
Something about the line ‘every moment has to matter, but then it doesn’t” stuck with me. I think it’s because of the timing. I recently applied for a national fellowship that I thought I was a great fit for and would have been a tremendous opportunity for me. And I didn’t get it. It didn’t feel like the world was over, but it really, really, really sucked. It sucks just as much today as when I first got the denial letter. It really sucks now. Being rejected from this opportunity only conjures up all of the feelings in which I feel rejected from so many other things. But this letter isn’t about that.
I was thinking about the last time something sucky to this magnitude happened to me. I had just gotten the last of several rejection letters from multiple nursing schools and I was stuck at a abusive dead-end job.
Every moment has to matter… I don’t believe in wasted time; how you spend your time is either beneficial or not. I don’t believe that life has a waiting period before you get to the important part. There is no magic age to when you have to act like an adult and get yourself together. Today matters. Nothing just gets better simply by waiting for time to pass.
…but then it doesn’t. You already know the end of the story. I no longer work at that sucky job (I have an infinitely better one now that reflects my values of being part of the community and serving people who need it the most) and I’m now working on my third graduation from the same nursing school (that is 50x better than the ones that originally rejected me).
I think why that quote has profoundly impacted me is because you can simultaneously encompass a single space with two very opposing viewpoints. I guess it’s because big things and small things are equally important. They can equally shift the projection your life at any moment. I think I (or maybe we) put more value and weight on the big changes and opportunities and overlook the small things. I placed a lot of value on getting the fellowship because, in actuality, it is a prestigious organization that is offering a unique opportunity that very few people qualify for. The intention is to create a think tank of doctoral students from minority backgrounds to help create innovative solutions for alleviating the health disparities in our communities. Apparently they didn’t want me, but whatever. What I don’t appreciate is that my friends and I do that all the time. Not to the same level as the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation, but we are still doing the same thing.
Every moment has to matter, but it doesn’t.
It has been all of the little things that have gotten me to where I am. It’s the little things, the relationships, the volunteering, the friendships, the consistency, the places you show up, the impression that you leave on people, the things you do in your spare time and your reputation that matter. And to some degree, none of that matters. They add up and they subtract. They open and close doors.
The big things matter, too. We all know that. But the big things are rarely the end all, be all. Big things matter, but they don’t, because there is this thing call the future that eventually equalizes things out (or at least puts things in perspective).
In conclusion, just keep it pushing. This is what life’s all about. You win some, you lose some. Ebbs and flow. Mountains and valleys. There is really no point in over analyzing everything and writing it down in a monthly letter and sending it out to not so random people. I’ll probably keep doing this until I find a therapist who will listen to my first world problems.