How one moment changed everything I thought I knew about career and my place in the world.
I always loved clothing and style. This love began early, when as a child my mom would let my sister and I choose and new dress to wear on Christmas Eve. I would spend an indecent amount of time pouring over catalogs to find the right dress. And when it finally came in the mail, I would stash it in my closet with the same reverence as a priest with church icons, taking it out daily to admire the fabric and the stitching (I admit that I sometimes still do this. Who can relate? Haha).
But fashion wasn’t for me. I was always studious, a bit nerdy, that girl that everyone cozied up to before big exams in school. My family is full of doctors, nurses, and psychologists. I was always inspired by the dedication and passion that my parents, aunts, and uncles brought to their work and their love of people. They had dignified, serious careers that demanded years of study and dedication. My personality can be a bit intense, so it’s understandable that those types of jobs would appeal to me.
I never doubted how I would leave my mark on the world (a fact which I fully realizes exposes the outrageous size of my ego). I was intent on making a Difference (yes, with a capital D), and even after so much time has passed and there has been so much pain and growth, I still have that same goal.
When a goal becomes a calling
I was going to be a reconstructive surgeon for burn victims. That was my big Purpose in life. I came to this decision at 17 years old, during service work in a rural hospital in Malawi in Southeast Africa. There I saw a burned baby who was scheduled for a triple amputation the very next day. The injustice of it marked me so strongly that it became part of the fabric of who I was. The fact that a person without a voice living in a society that wasn’t prepared to meet their needs incensed me, opening my eyes to the fact that it’s not just ‘over there’ in Malawi, but everywhere that we as people need to be better equipped to support each other.
Coming home to the San Francisco Bay Area, and seeing that the disparity I saw abroad was alive here as well sharpened my goal of helping people in some capacity.
here; Tommy Hilfiger slip-ons, similar here; and because my rack wouldn’t be as bubbly without it, Victoria’s Secret strapless bra here
And so, what to do? I loved listening to my dad, a doctor, talk about science and medicine. I loved working with my hands, with my mind, and above everything else, challenging myself with a difficult task.
So I decided to be a doctor, and to be the very best I could possibly be. To be as well-rounded as possible. I chose International Relations as my major because I found it fascinating and it broadened my little world here in California. Understanding how a person such as that baby in Malawi fit into the grander scheme of things – of medicine, society, etc. seemed necessary if I were to be the best physician I could be.
It was only after I graduated in International Relations that I began studying in earnest to go to medical school. Lots of chemistry, biology, genetics, exams, hours a day for years at a time. A long haul to be sure, but I loved every second of it.
Then, the accident. Scratch that, this deserves capital letters: Then, The Accident (cue dramatic voice).
My friend and I were walking in a crosswalk near my apartment when I was hit by an SUV.
I was thrown 25 feet across the asphalt and it’s a miracle that I didn’t break any bones, or even that I survived. As my noggin had taken the brunt of the landing, I had, however, sustained a traumatic brain injury.
It happened in summer of 2015. From there, and quite without realizing it, I started on a new path, one of recuperation, frustration, mourning, blissful ignorance of the gravity of my injuries, and total rejection of the idea that my life had been permanently changed.
It took two years to understand that my brain would never go back to the books. I had lost the capacity to study, to remember simple things like where I’d put my car or that I had something burning on the stove. The ability to learn textbooks full of information, to apply concepts to real life, and a million more things, seemed to have disappeared.
A Blank Slate is Not the Same as a Lost Cause
Hard-headed as I am (pun totally intended), I insisted on believing that I hadn’t lost everything. So I decided to go back to square one – what was left after the accident?
Creativity, ability to write (albeit not as well as I used to write), passion for style – those things had all stayed with me. Sometimes I would lose myself for hours or entire days in writing or analyzing fashion. My heart told me that those abilities formed the only path I had to move forward, but my logic (or what remained of it) contradicted me at each step. How could style and creativity help the world, spread joy and improve people’s lives? Isn’t it all a bit frivolous?
The truth is that we can never decide exactly what our path is in life. The only thing life asks us to do is to move forward with passion, integrity, and joy. If I can do this, then that damned Difference-making will come hand in hand. It takes faith, but it’ll come.
Do I think a blog will solve the world’s problems? Probably not. But hopefully it can provide comfort, joy, inspiration, fun, and connection for people.
My intention here is to provide a bit of joy, to remind us (let’s be real, mainly to remind myself) that life doesn’t always have to be serious – because joy is never frivolous. I hope this place can be one of compassion, transparency, and true caring for the well-being of you lovely readers.
So, welcome to my blog. I promise to be authentic, honest, to listen to you guys, and present you all with interesting, fun, and inspiring fashion!
How about you? Any moments or events in your life that changed your perspective?
Love,
Stig
