Chapter 1 The dream I thought was mine.
Chapter 1: The Dream I Thought Was Mine
It all began when I was in sixth or seventh grade.
Like every ordinary child, I spent my childhood dreaming of becoming someone different every few months. Sometimes I wanted to be a teacher because I admired the way teachers shaped young minds. Sometimes I dreamed of becoming a dancer because performing on stage filled me with excitement. At other times, I imagined myself as an actress, living a life that seemed glamorous and extraordinary.
As children, our dreams are innocent. They are not limited by reality, money, or society. We simply dream because dreaming is beautiful.
But somewhere along the way, I slowly began to understand that life does not always encourage those dreams. Society has a way of deciding which careers deserve respect and which do not. People judge your choices, your ambitions, and sometimes even your worth based on the profession you choose. Eventually, I realized that people rarely stop judging. No matter what path you take, someone will always have an opinion.
Around that time, I met a woman who would unknowingly change the direction of my life. She was a friend of my mother and worked as a psychiatrist. She became my very first role model.
I was fascinated by her. She was confident, passionate, intelligent, and carried herself with remarkable grace. She always appeared well-dressed, elegant, and full of life. To my younger self, she seemed to have everything I admired. She was successful, independent, and deeply respected for her work.
For the first time, I saw a profession that inspired me beyond childhood fantasies.
That day, a new dream was born.
"I want to become a doctor."
From that moment onwards, the dream stayed with me for years.
Looking back today, I realize something important. My parents never forced me to choose a particular career or stream. They trusted me completely and believed I should decide my own future. I will always be grateful for that freedom.
However, there is one question that has stayed with me ever since:
How can a fifteen- or sixteen-year-old truly know what they want to do for the rest of their life?
At that age, I didn't question my decision. I believed I had already figured everything out.
I chose the PCB stream because Biology fascinated me, while Mathematics never really did. Maths had always been one of my weaker subjects, so the choice seemed obvious. Surprisingly, I never seriously considered Commerce. It simply never crossed my mind. Humanities was another option, and I personally had nothing against it. Unfortunately, our society often treats Humanities as a "less successful" choice, despite the countless opportunities it offers.
Since I had scored good marks in my Class 10 examinations, getting admission into the PCB stream wasn't difficult. I filled out the form without much hesitation.
At that point, becoming a doctor seemed like the perfect plan.
Or at least, that's what I believed.
Everything changed the moment I entered Class 11.
For the first time, I wasn't just dreaming about becoming a doctor—I was learning what it actually meant.
I began discovering the reality behind the white coat.
I learned about the intense competition of NEET, the pressure of coaching institutes, the uncertainty of entrance examinations, the emotional exhaustion of drop years, and the countless sacrifices students make long before they even enter medical college.
Then I discovered what came after NEET.
Five and a half years of MBBS, demanding internships, sleepless nights, overwhelming workloads, and years of continuous examinations. If someone wishes to specialize further, there are postgraduate entrance exams, residency, and often super-specialization—adding several more years to an already exhausting journey.
As I read more and spoke to medical students and doctors, I began to understand that medicine is not just a profession; it is a lifelong commitment that demands extraordinary patience, resilience, and sacrifice.
I also found myself worrying about issues that many students rarely think about while choosing their stream—personal safety, especially for women working long hours, financial independence, work-life balance, and the uncertainty that comes even after years of education.
These thoughts didn't make me respect doctors any less.
In fact, they made me admire them even more.
But they also left me wondering whether a sixteen-year-old can truly understand the magnitude of such a decision.
Medical education can take ten to twelve years—or even longer—before one feels professionally settled. During those years, many students remain financially dependent on their families while their friends in other professions begin earning, exploring life, and building careers.
Of course, medicine remains one of the noblest professions in the world. Many doctors eventually build successful careers, earn well, and positively transform countless lives.
But success is never guaranteed in any profession.
The question that troubled me was never whether becoming a doctor was worth it.
The real question was this:
Should a child be expected to make such a life-changing decision before truly understanding what that decision demands?
That was the first time I realized that perhaps the problem wasn't my dream.
Perhaps the problem was how early we are expected to choose one.
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🌷 End Note
Thank you for reading the first chapter of Too Young to Decide.
If these words felt familiar, then this journey was written for someone like you.
This is only the beginning.
📖 The complete book will soon be available for purchase.
For updates, behind-the-scenes content, quotes from the book, and the official release, follow me on Instagram:
🌷 @tulipc.author
I'd also love to hear your thoughts. If this chapter resonated with you, feel free to leave a comment or share your experience.
See you in the next chapter.
— Tulip C.
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