There is comfort in having a perfectly crafted plan—bonus points if you can organize it all on a color-coded spreadsheet. And yet, sometimes life doesn’t follow your plans. Letting go of a plan that no longer serves you is scary, but absolutely necessary in finding your own unique path.
As a freshman at UCLA, I was confident that I would pursue a major in the humanities. I had considered turning my love of poetry and journaling into a career as a writer, using my passion for foreign language and diplomacy to fuel a career in immigration law, or becoming a legal advocate for individuals with intellectual and developmental disabilities. I switched my major from global studies to public affairs to international development, hoping to find the perfect fit that would turn my world inside out the way I imagined college courses would.
The summer after my freshman year, I went back to square one and asked myself what I would be most excited to learn about for the next three years, regardless of what I did afterwards. I was most passionate about working to promote inclusion of people with disabilities through my involvement in Best Buddies and Special Olympics, and I was interested in further exploring neurodiversity in order to better inform my advocacy efforts. I didn’t consider myself a STEM person, but after spending hours researching the neuroscience major and designing a four-year plan that would allow me to switch my major while keeping my double minors, I decided to switch my major to neuroscience. I enrolled in the first prerequisite courses for the neuroscience major, unsure if I would be able to succeed in STEM, but determined to give it my all.
As I made my way through the life science curriculum, I found myself feeling intellectually stimulated by and excited about everything that I was learning in my STEM classes while still exploring my love for the humanities through my minor classes. It wasn’t easy, but I knew that I had found the right fit for me. I recognized that in order to succeed on this path, I needed to be intentional about where I invested my time and energy. The most meaningful experiences are not the ones you think you should do to check a box, but the experiences that you are genuinely interested in and excited about.
That summer, I joined a neuroscience research lab on campus, where I fell in love with the nature of scientific inquiry, the beautiful complexity of the brain and everything we don’t yet know about how it works. With the mentorship of my PI, I learned more about the path of a physician-scientist and what it means to balance research and medicine in practice. My academic and extracurricular interests converged as I moved deeper into the neuroscience major; my exploration of neuroscience research complemented my involvement in Best Buddies and Special Olympics and strengthened my commitment to serving individuals with disabilities through advocacy and research.
It can be scary to realize that the plan you’ve created for yourself is no longer what you want—but it is freeing to realize that you can always change your mind. Looking back, I’m so glad that I didn’t let this idea that I “wasn’t a STEM person” define my path. The decision to pivot to neuroscience after my freshman year of college took courage and forced me to believe in myself, and I learned that it is never too late to follow your heart and find your passion.
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