Translator: Leonardo Silva Reviewer: Cristina Bufi-Pöcksteiner
Remember the first time you were ever asked the question,
"What do you want to be when you grow up?"
If you started rambling on about ten different career options,
I'm pretty sure you were told,
"Don't worry about it. You'll figure it out, eventually."
The problem is we create an intricate link between occupation and identity,
and we call it confusion and uncertainty
when someone doesn't have that one aspiration
that they're completely sold on.
I used to be that person.
When asked the question of what I wanted to be,
I would say, "A pharmacist," or, "A physiotherapist."
It's not that I really knew what these titles meant,
but being in and out of hospital because of childhood asthma
meant that I heard these words a lot and I associated them with helping people,
and that's something I knew I definitely wanted to do.
Eventually, when I could pronounce the word "pediatrician,"
I decided that's what I wanted to be,
a specialist in childhood diseases.
So, eight years ago, when my father sat me down and asked me
if I was going to start working immediately after high school
or if I was going to study further,
I knew that it was the latter.
I was going to medical school.
Getting accepted into medical school came with great joy.
I worked hard.
After my first year, my efforts were rewarded
with an invitation to join the Golden Key International Honour Society,
because I was in the top 15% of my class, academically.
I was very excited.
Three years later, I was burnt-out and disillusioned.
I wanted a way out.
I felt that there was a gap between the theoretical aspects of medicine
and the practical work that we were expected to do in the hospital.
And I was struggling to bridge this gap.
I didn't quite know how to express how I felt.
So, I found comfort in writing.
In my fourth year of medical school, my first poetry collection was published.
Two years later, I had three books, a publishing consultancy firm
and a career as a spoken-word artist and theater actress.
(Applause)
All of this while still pursuing a career in medicine.
But how did I do this?
Well, I'm going to share with you the three ways
in which I fully embraced my multiple passions.
The first thing that I did: I made time for the things that I loved.
Lao Tzu said, "Time is a created thing,
and to say 'I don't have time'
is the equivalent of saying 'I don't want to'."
So, I became a juggler,
I ran marathons,
I entered beauty pageants,
I attended spoken-word sessions.
I auditioned for plays.
And with all of this juggling,
some balls stayed in the air, some fell to the ground,
but all of those taught me very, very important lessons about myself.
The second thing that I did:
I found out where I was replaceable.
In my fifth year of medical school,
I contracted pneumonia from one of my patients.
I became very ill.
But getting time off was almost impossible.
So, I made a conscious decision to step away and focus on my healing.
I knew that I couldn't be everywhere, at once.
So, I decided to find out what demanded my immediate attention
and focus on that.
The third thing that I did: I became unapologetic.
Grace Hopper said,
"It is better to ask for forgiveness than to get permission."
So, I asked myself,
"Should I ask for permission to do the things that I want to do,
be told that they're impossible
and then be miserable for the rest of my life?
Or should I just dive head first into what I really love,
and then find out later if it works out or not?"
I chose the latter and I have never looked back.
So, let me ask you this.
If you could go back in time and be asked the question,
"What do you want to be when you grow up,"
what would the answer be, this time?
And why not everything?
(Applause)