Chapter 1: The Turning Point

Today, I made the decision to cancel my GRE. I even ventured to Barnes and Noble to return the prep book that I never opened. I hadn't taken the test prior to earning my Master’s degree since my studies were in the U.K., where it wasn’t required. Despite my initial indifference, my frustrations with the social justice landscape led me to an obsession with how trauma influences culture, and I believed the sociology program at Yale was the perfect place for that exploration.

Yale. Just saying the name fills a small part of me with delight. “Yes, I’m affiliated with Yale,” I’d boast. I wouldn’t need to show off my credentials or even wear a Yale t-shirt. Instead, I might opt for a humorous Kale-themed shirt. That little part of me craves the validation that comes with recognition. Finally, I’d have the credibility to prove that my intellect matches my self-perception.

I can feel ambition stirring within me, awakening after a long hibernation. It’s been some time since I truly felt driven. For the past few years, my primary focus has been on recovering from chronic Lyme disease and finding a stable home after numerous transient living situations. Those who have never endured chronic illness may not fully grasp how it can consume your entire being. The gap in my professional timeline? That was when I was grappling with an invisible beast that challenged me at every turn.

When your sole objective is to muster enough energy to get through the day, any thought of ambition feels irrelevant.

Yet, as the storm calms, you resurface and realize that life has continued to unfold without you. Others have advanced while you feel stuck. Once a frontrunner, you now find yourself left behind as you approach thirty.

Thus, the urge to pursue a PhD at Yale emerges. It’s time to harness my potential and reclaim the time lost; it’s time to create something meaningful. This aspiration feels vast and extraordinary. The creature within me, once a fierce lion, has transformed into an anxious kitten. Oh, how she longs to achieve greatness! We are complex beings, each with our own desires that require nurturing.

However, despite the allure of this vision, I struggle to rally the rest of myself. That kitten wishes to lead the charge, yet the other parts of me are weary and wiser. Yale? PhD? What do these accolades truly signify? Will they lead me to a place where I’d rather not be?

After years of stagnation, my ambition feels cumbersome and rusty. It clanks and squeaks with every step, shedding bits of itself along the way. The kitten is trying to lead a pack that seems indifferent. My other selves are cautious; I’ve traveled this path before, and it often leads to a paradox of prestige and despair, success intertwined with existential confusion.

I recognize that the golden path may lead to an emerald city, where the figure I once revered turns out to be a frail man behind a veil. Ambition, it seems, is an illusion.

I peel away the superficial layers of my desires to uncover something genuine beneath. I’ve learned that shallow yearnings often mask deeper needs.

The reactive ambition I held onto as a remedy for the shame I felt during my illness can only draw me backward. Reactions tend to keep us trapped in the past. Beneath the surface of this reaction lies a more sincere motivation, which becomes visible when the haze of defensiveness lifts.

My ambition is no longer tied to the desire for admiration. It has shifted from seeking approval to fostering growth: I wish to avoid stagnation. I don’t want to look back and feel that I could have accomplished more. I want to strive, with every step, to be the best version of myself.

Moreover, I refuse to confine my life to a narrow existence. I encounter individuals from both small and large towns, all ensnared in limited perspectives, grappling with trivial issues. I see people of varying heights unable to see beyond their immediate circles. It’s as if the entire world has shrunk to the size of a soccer ball.

I aspire to break free from such limitations. I want my life to encompass vast horizons and boundless opportunities for growth. I yearn to keep evolving, learning, and expanding, much like an infinite balloon. This, I realize, is the essence of my true ambition.

Thus, I’m choosing to cancel my GRE and return the untouched prep book, for I never truly desired this path. Instead, I’ll seek out Workaways and WWOOFing experiences where I can learn about herbal medicine, ecosystem restoration, and goat herding. I’m taking up sailing and diving into reading. No Yale, just kale, sails, and Ishmael.

I don’t require a PhD. In fact, I suspect few do. What I truly want is to broaden my horizons and embrace new learning experiences. My ambition will transform into something far more enriching, something that feels natural and genuinely mine.

Ambition, much like shame or guilt or anger, serves a purpose. There’s always a loving reason behind its emergence. However, it can become distorted when we attempt to fulfill our needs through misguided desires. By stripping away the superficial layers of our wants and letting go of reactivity, the right course of action will reveal itself.

When aligned with my true self, it doesn’t feel like effort at all; it simply feels like being: this is who I am—someone who is constantly moving, learning, and documenting the journey.