When Plan A Evolves
A few years ago, I’d have told you my future was set in stone: medical school, residency, clinical practice. My Instagram was a shrine to #FutureDoctor posts, my Google searches a mix of “MCAT study schedules” and “how to survive organic chemistry.” But here’s the truth: My aspirations have shifted—slowly, quietly, and in ways I never expected.
It started in high school when family members developed dementia and increased in my freshman year of college when a psychology class that lit up my brain like nothing else. Then some time spent volunteering in a cognitive rehab center, where I watched stroke survivors rebuild their minds through language exercises. Suddenly, medicine felt too narrow. I wanted to understand the how behind healing, not just the what. Now, my end goal isn’t a white coat—it’s cognitive research for therapies, blending neuroscience, psychology, and innovation.
But this pivot didn’t happen in a vacuum. It took a friend’s radical career rebellion to make me realize: It’s okay to outgrow your own plans.
The Catalyst: When My Friend Ditched Dental School for Plants
My friend Sam (name changed to protect her from my envy) was accepted to every top dental school in the country. She’d done everything “right”: shadowing, research, killer grades. Then, she dropped dentistry to launch a plant business. Not as a side hustle—as her life’s work.
At first, I was baffled. Why walk away from prestige? From security? But watching her thrive—designing terrariums, teaching workshops, radiating joy—shook me. It forced me to ask: What am I clinging to out of fear, rather than passion?
My Own Evolution: From Clinician to Cognitive Researcher
I hadn’t realized how much I’d been gaslighting myself. Sure, I love parts of pre-health: the problem-solving, the human connection. But the closer I’m getting towards college graduation, the more I crave deeper questions:
How do memories physically reshape the brain after trauma?
Can we harness neuroplasticity to design better therapies?
What role does art or language play in cognitive recovery?
Turns out, I’m not sure if I want to treat patients as much as I wanted to reimagine how we approach healing altogether.
Why College Advice Stays Pre-Health (For Now)
I still mentor pre-health students. Why? Because the skills—critical thinking, resilience, scientific literacy—are universal. Dissecting a frog taught me precision. Endless lab reports honed my ability to communicate complex ideas. Those lessons matter, whether you’re suturing wounds or studying synaptic pathways.
But I’ve started whispering a caveat: “Your dreams might change… and that’s okay.”
The “What-Ifs” That Keep Me Up at Night
Sam’s pivot didn’t just make me question my path—it made me play with alternatives. What if I merged my loves?
1. Cognitive Research + Art Therapy
Could creative expression rewire the brain post-injury? Studies say yes. Imagine designing therapies that use painting or music to rebuild neural connections.
2. Neurotech Startups
Companies like Neuralink interest me. What if I helped develop tech to restore speech in aphasia patients?
3. Science Communication
Translating research into digestible content—TED Talks, podcasts, interactive exhibits—to make cognitive science accessible.
None of these fit the traditional pre-health mold. All of them light me up.
The Scary Part: Letting Go of “Expected”
Admitting I no longer 100% sure I want to be a clinician felt like betrayal—to my past self, my mentors, the version of me that once thought “doctor” was the only valid title. But Sam’s courage taught me: Changing your mind isn’t failure: it’s fidelity to your growth.
I’m still pre-health adjacent. I tutor biochemistry, volunteer in a cancer clinic, fundraise, and geek out over fMRI studies. But now, I’m also taking coding classes in my freetime, lurking in AI ethics forums, and cold-emailing researchers who blend art and neuroscience.
My Takeaway
Sam’s plant business isn’t a cautionary tale—it’s a permission slip. Permission to evolve, to hybridize, to chase curiosity even when it terrifies you.
To anyone else quietly rethinking their path:
Your past goals aren’t wasted. Every pre-health late-nighter taught you grit.
Interdisciplinary fields need you. Cognitive research, bioethics, neurotech—they thrive on diverse perspectives.
It’s okay to be a work in progress.
I don’t have it all figured out. Some days, I panic that I’ve strayed too far. Others, I scribble ideas for a study merging poetry and memory recall. But I’m learning to trust the pivot.