Keeping up with Kay

Life has a funny way of keeping us focused on what’s next. We count down the days until the weekend, the vacation we have been planning for months, or the moment we can finally cross something off our never-ending to-do list. Sometimes, in the middle of a busy day, all I can think about is when I’ll get the chance to eat the protein bar that’s been sitting in my backpack or when I’ll get five minutes to sit down. We’ve become so caught up in getting through today that we rarely stop to notice where we are. A few weeks ago, I saved a quote I randomly came across: “Younger me would be so obsessed with current me, and honestly, that’s all that matters.” At first, I smiled and saved it because I thought it was cute. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized how rarely we look at our lives through that lens.

We are so busy chasing the next goal, the next milestone, the next version of ourselves that we forget to appreciate the one we’ve already become. Maybe that’s why we so often feel like we are falling behind. We measure our lives against where we think we should be instead of remembering where we started. And maybe, every once in a while, the perspective we need isn’t from looking ahead, it is from looking back through the eyes of the little kid who dreamed about becoming us.

A Picture on a Bulletin Board

A few months ago, while my friends and I were studying for our board exams, one of them told me she had taped a childhood picture of herself to the bulletin board above her desk for a reminder of who she was doing all of this for. The second she told me, I thought it was the sweetest thing. It was such a simple idea, but it felt so genuine. During that time, our identities revolved around studying. Every day was measured by question banks and how much content we could squeeze into a few more hours.

The more I thought about it, the more meaningful it became. That picture wasn’t there to remind her how much studying she still had left to do or how much pressure was riding on these exams. It wasn’t there to make her feel guilty for taking a break or to push herself harder. It was there to remind her of the little girl who had dreamed of becoming a doctor long before she knew what board exams were, long before she understood how difficult the journey would be. It was a reminder that despite all the stress, she had already become someone that younger version of herself would’ve been incredibly proud of.

It made me realize how rarely we give ourselves that same perspective. We are constantly measuring ourselves against the “next big thing”: the next exam, promotion, paycheck, or goal. We spend so much time thinking about where we’re going that we forget to appreciate where we are. We stopped looking at our lives through the lens of the little kid who would’ve thought our ordinary Tuesday was extraordinary. Maybe that is why her picture resonated so much with me. It wasn’t really about motivation; it was about perspective.

Funny How That Happens

The more I thought about my friend’s childhood picture, the more I started thinking about my own life, and not just medical school. It made me realize how quickly we adapt to the things we once couldn’t wait for, the things we spent years dreaming about slowly become part of our everyday routine. We stop noticing them, not because they aren’t special anymore, but because they have simply become our normal. When we’re younger, we dream in snapshots. We picture driving a car, decorating our first apartment, traveling somewhere we have only seen in pictures, or finally feeling like a “real” grown-up. We don’t think about the responsibilities that come with those dreams, we just imagine how exciting they will be when we get there.

The things we once counted down the years for become things we do every day. We unlock the front door to a place we have made our own. We pack our lunches, catch flights we have saved up for, or settle into careers we once only imagined. The excitement isn’t gone; it just gets buried beneath the routines of everyday life.

The Little Girl Who Had It All Figured Out

Looking back, I don’t really remember deciding I wanted to be a doctor. I just always knew. I loved going to the doctor’s office. I loved going to the hospital. Growing up as a gymnast meant I had my fair share of injuries, but somehow, I was fascinated by them. I would stare at my X-rays trying to figure out exactly where the fracture was, asking questions and wanting to understand everything the doctors were saying. While most kids probably wanted to get out of the hospital as quickly as possible, I thought it was one of the coolest places in the world.

That fascination followed me home. I’d spend hours playing doctor with my dolls, giving them all casts and crutches, wrapping up imaginary injuries, and performing fake surgeries in my bedroom. If anyone asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, my answer never changed.

Of course, younger me had no idea what that dream actually meant. She didn’t know about chemistry exams, MCAT prep, board exams, or the moments when getting into medical school felt impossible. She didn’t know there would be days when I’d question whether I was capable enough to get here. She just believed I would. I spend my days walking into the hospital with my ID badge clipped onto my white coat, introducing myself to patients, and learning from the physicians around me. It’s become such a normal part of my routine that I barely think twice about it. I think 8-year-old Kay would have thought that ID badge was the coolest thing. She would have looked at the hospital hallways with the same excitement she always did. She would have thought getting to spend my days there was a dream come true.

A Different Perspective

As much as this post has been about medicine, it really isn’t about medicine at all. My dream just happened to involve a white coat. Yours might look completely different. Maybe your younger self dreamed of getting out of a home that never really felt safe. Maybe they dreamed of finding a relationship where they finally felt loved the way they deserved to be. Maybe they dreamed of becoming a mom or a dad, owning a home, graduating college, traveling the world, or simply finding peace after a time where life felt impossibly hard. Maybe your biggest dream wasn’t a career at all; maybe it was waking up one day and feeling happy, healthy, or hopeful again.

That’s the beauty of dreams. They don’t all look the same. As I kept thinking about all of this, I realized something else. I don’t think the white coat is what would impress younger me the most. I think she’d be surprised by the person I’ve become. She’d be amazed that I can travel by myself without thinking twice. That I’ve learned to trust myself in situations that used to scare me. That I’ve become more confident, more independent, and more comfortable with who I am. She’d probably assume I have everything figured out. The truth is, I don’t. I still have days where I doubt myself. Days when I compare myself to other people or wonder if I’m doing enough. I’m still growing into the person I want to become, just like everyone else. But maybe that’s the point.

Growing up isn’t about becoming someone who has all the answers. I think we spend so much time comparing ourselves to everyone else’s version of success that we forget to appreciate the dreams that were once uniquely our own. We focus on everything we haven’t done yet instead of noticing how much we’ve already overcome, how much we’ve learned, and how much we’ve grown.

Maybe your younger self wouldn’t be most impressed by your job title or the house you live in. Maybe they’d be proud that you found your confidence. That you learned how to love yourself. That you built a family. Whatever your story looks like, I hope you take a moment to look at yourself through younger eyes. I have a feeling they would see someone pretty incredible.

Thanks for keeping up with Kay. Please enjoy some fun pictures of baby Kay.