I still remember the hot summer afternoon that started my journey as a science major. I was tan from my best friend’s week long birthday trip to the beach, toting several suitcases, waving goodbye to my parents as they dropped me off at what would turn out to be the first of my many college experiences. I was fifteen years old. It was the summer after my sophomore year of high school and the first day of a ten-day summer camp for aspiring young doctors. I had always been that student who took all of the advanced science courses I could get my hands on, who went on field trips to the labs for fun instead of to get out of class, who read the articles our teachers emailed us and ended up spending hours reading more about the topics. So, naturally, medicine became my dream and my parents couldn’t have been more on board.

I had everything figured out. I would attend a college that had a six-year accelerated medical program, so I wouldn’t have to stress over the MCAT. I would meet my husband in undergrad, but he would be a business major, obviously doctor/doctor divorce rates are just through the roof. I would do my residency in a medical examiner’s office and end up as a Forensic Pathologist, living out my dreams. During those ten days at med camp, my friends and I would spend our time talking about our futures like that, our plans to travel the world, our thoughts on love. Just like any other fifteen-year-old kids, we thought we had all the answers. Imagine my surprise when I learned that, plot twist, I didn’t know it all.

I chose the college I attend because graduating with a Forensic Science degree from the University of New Haven would have federal labs, grad schools, and med schools knocking down my door. I was expecting opportunities left and right, but I never expected to get so much more out of school than my academics. I discovered the world of student activities and it changed my life. I became a tour guide, I joined a sorority, I was an orientation leader, the list went on and on. Somewhere along the way, I changed my mind. My passion for student activities grew and, with it, my stress levels. How was I going to spend forty hours a week for the rest of my life working in a lab when just four hours in general chemistry was killing me now? There was no way my parents would understand why I didn’t want to be a doctor anymore.

The funny thing about worrying about what other people think is that the ones who matter actually won’t care what you do, as long as they know you’re happy. As soon as I realized that I was okay with being on board a train taking an entirely different direction than I planned, so was everyone else in my life. For those ten days at med camp, I was surrounded by people who were as passionate about science as I was, people who would sit in the green with me and talk about what we thought were our first heartbreaks, people who I still keep in touch with to this day. Like some of those people, I have since lost that passion for science. I found my passion in working with people, in helping college students find what they love just like I did, and it turns out, I didn’t give up on my dream. I just found a new one.