When I was younger, I thought I could control the wind. 

I would try to open the door, wanting to prove that my small hands could control a force much bigger than me. As a senior, I now realize how the child inside me has long fought for control. 

Throughout my life, I’ve had little control over my circumstances. From rainy Seattle to sunny Texas, my life was constantly flipped upside down. It was Texas that started my venture to many different communities, churches and schools — eight of them in total — to find a place we called home. It also meant becoming a disjointed mosaic of those who passed through my life. 

A huge aspect of my identity was being an older sister to three siblings, two of whom are younger than 5. Juggling the responsibility of being a good daughter, sister, student and friend felt like trying to wrestle with a beast that kept spiraling out of my control. It was as if I couldn’t be a person who existed on my own without the presence of others and their definitions of me.

Trying to find my identity led to me taking on many personas. In my teenage years, I got mixed up with both the best and worst students in school. I passed tests with perfect scores, and completely bombed others. I fought with my family and loved them simultaneously. I suffered from anxiety because I was in a chasm of all these clashing versions of myself and was unable to find the middle ground. 

It was this year, during my trip to Korea, that I was finally able to find inner peace. One of the cornerstones of this discovery was listening to the choir at my grandmother’s church. Seeing the unity of white-clad singers joined together in praise opened my eyes. Small experiences within the movement of the city, the culture and the ridges of the mountains broadened my small scope of life. I was able to see myself and the world in another light. 

I am not just one thing. 

I am a unity of a lot of things — a jack of all trades. My experiences being an older sister made me caring and able to look after people younger than me. Being a daughter taught me respect and responsibility. Being a friend taught me laughter and loyalty. Being a Christian taught me compassion and joy. 

Being able to see myself in so many places is why choosing my college major this year was hard. I’m adaptable to various people and hobbies, but I had to figure out what I could live my life doing. 

What I eventually decided on was medicine. The nature of the medical field was stable, explorative and allowed me to pursue my passions of the human body. My experiences with my grandmother’s illness, my uncle’s accident and my own health issues have built an ability to confront pain with love and comfort. Additionally, I found a desire to dive deep into the shared experiences of humans: our anatomical makeup and blueprint. 

Senior year became the culmination of all the highs and lows of my life. That little girl who thought she could control the wind grew up and learned it’s not possible to control everything — I’m thankful it isn’t. This difficult journey of life gave me the satisfaction that I wasn’t in control, because although I can’t control the wind, I can control where it takes me.