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     Looking back, my relationship with writing was always a distant one. I regarded my writing self as a side note to my real personality. It was an escape from the stresses of my real life in the sciences. Even as a college student beginning my Minor in Writing, I still brushed it off as a leisurely pastime. In my Why I Write essay, I described my relationship with writing as something that “could always be done while on the comfort of my dorm futon, or a cozy chair in a coffee shop. It was relaxing, refreshing and exactly what I needed.” Writing was only necessary in my life so that I could become refreshed and replenished for my more important work as a pre-medical student. In fact, every reason I had for writing was in regards to my left-brained self. In that same essay—written sophomore year—I wrote:

 

 

“What I never realized was that writing is also organized, analytical and logical, just like me. Every word, phrase and sentence is carefully constructed with a purpose, and every piece of grammar sensibly calculated to make everything fit together perfectly. A page of written word, in total, is organized and linear.”

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            While I still agree with that statement, I would no longer consider it a reason for why I write. Now it seems more like an arbitrary fact than a reason to put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard). Even as I began to embark on my journey as a minor in writing, I still held my identity as a writer at arm’s length and defined it in terms of who I was as a pre-medical student. And while I thought that I could only analyze why I wrote through a scientific lens—a metaphoric microscope you could say—now I understand that I was starting to connect my two selves and grow as a more well rounded individual.  

As a graduating senior, I have finally realized that writing has been so much more than just an escape for me. It has served as a way for me to grow from an aspiring physician to an independent young adult who has actually made that dream happen. For example, during my freshmen year—long before I even started to connect with who I am now as a writer—I began to use my writing to help me navigate difficult experiences. As the oldest of three daughters, I was the first to move away from home. This was uncharted territory and I had a difficult time grasping how I felt about my newfound independence. In an essay for my first-year writing course, I wrote:

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“I couldn’t watch [my family] leave, so I turned into my room and I closed the heavy blue door, peering into the newly hung full-length mirror. I looked like the same person I had been twenty-four hours earlier, only I wasn’t. I turned around, taking in all of the features of my new home for the following eight or so months, and realized that I was on my own.”

 

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Writing about this experience gave me the motivation to take on more responsibility and understand that my decisions, my actions and how I navigated my undergraduate career would ultimately determine if I made it to medical school or not. Writing was not simply something to distract me from this stressful revelation; it started to become a means of achieving my goal.

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            From there, I was able to develop my relationship with writing. I took writing courses in cultural anthropology, biological anthropology and even did academic research to produce a scientific paper. While broadening my writing skills, I was also becoming a stronger medical school candidate. I was growing into a better listener, communicator and interpreter. In an upper-level anthropology course—titled, Culture, Thought and Meaning—I was forced to think about abstract concepts in a way that I never had before. For example, my science background had always forced me to think about Sigmund Freud as a psychologist—one who performed scientific experiments to learn more about the human brain and how it functions. In this particular anthropology course, however, we considered him a philosopher. His scientific findings were nothing more than simply theories about life. In an essay exploring the idea of “human freedom,” I was pushed to analyze how Freud’s theories of the unconscious mind can be applied to limitations of human freedom.

 

“Freud strongly believes in unconscious motivation, which means individuals have desires and motivations to do things that they are unaware of. This leads to the question of how free humans really are. If unconscious motivators drive actions, then humans are acting without the knowledge of why.”

 

This thought process goes well beyond what I learned about Freud in my neuroscience psychology courses. My understanding of Freud’s research grew from a simple memorization of his claims to a well-rounded analysis of what those claims meant in an anthropological context. Being able to connect scientific concepts to other aspects of life is an extremely important skill to have as a physician—and writing made that possible for me.

 

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            When it finally came time to apply to medical school, I was forced to ponder my qualifications, who I was as a medical school hopeful and even my identity as a writer. As I was typing application essay after application essay, I realized that my relationship with writing had changed. It had transformed from a way to escape my science-self into a valuable skillset that actually made me a stronger medical school candidate. My writing skills gave me an edge over other candidates who may not have had as much experience writing essays. Being a writer has helped me excel in my academics and in many other intricacies of my life; it has given me an advantage in both educational and professional settings—as these skills are crucial for fostering better inter- and intrapersonal competencies. My new appreciation for the Minor in Writing community and the writing skills that I have developed in my courses that expand beyond the science realm have been the main inspirations for my capstone project.

            Throughout my four years at the University of Michigan, I have turned to university resources to help guide me through the stringent requirements of a pre-medical student. At times, I have felt lost and confused about which path to take and whether that path should even include a Minor in Writing. I was often worried that dedicating time to non-healthcare related activities would distract me from my goals. Looking back, I am grateful that I stuck with writing because it has helped prepare me for life as a medical student and beyond. I hope that my capstone project—an educational website—will inspire other students at the University of Michigan to experience the multitude of opportunities that this school offers. I hope they will learn and grow as individuals just as I have. And I hope that, above all, they will build a “self” that they are proud of.

 

After forging this new relationship with writing, I will be entering medical school as both a writer and a woman of the sciences.