Not the Same Girl Who Started: A Year of Growth

If you’ve spoken to me at any point over the last few months, chances are you’ve heard me say — half-jokingly — that I think my frontal lobe has finally developed. And while I usually say it with a laugh, there’s actually some truth in it. I really do believe it.

I can’t pinpoint the exact moment it happened, but something in me changed. I just feel... different. Different in the way I think. Different in the way I move through life.

I used to be the kind of person who did whatever I was told — no questions asked. I never challenged anything, never doubted anyone’s judgment. I just assumed everyone knew better than me. I thought that’s how life worked.

But over the past year — maybe it was the stress, the tough calls, the unexpected situations I somehow survived — something shifted. My perspective evolved.
I started asking questions without worrying how I’d be perceived.
I stopped being afraid to speak up.
I began trusting my own instincts more than blind authority.
I learned how to put myself first — not in a selfish way, but in a necessary one. I realized that if you don’t advocate for yourself, no one else will. And if you keep pouring from an empty cup, you’re the one who ends up drained.

I also stopped letting unnecessary things take up space in my mind. The noise, the pressure, the people-pleasing — I’ve started filtering it all out. I’ve started thinking about what really matters. I’ve started thinking long-term. And for the first time, I’m not just dreaming about the future — I’m making actual plans to bring it to life.

I am so glad I did house job here. It really built me and made me grow as a person. It taught me more about myself than I feel I ever would’ve discovered if I hadn’t been thrown into this exact situation.

There’s something about being in a system that constantly tests your patience, your resilience, your boundaries — it forces you to look inward. To confront parts of yourself you didn’t know needed work. I was put in rooms that overwhelmed me, faced cases that terrified me, worked under pressure I didn’t think I could handle — and yet, I did. Day after day.

I learned how to make decisions with confidence, even when I wasn’t 100% sure. I learned how to take initiative without waiting for someone else to lead. I learned how to speak up for what’s right, even when my voice was shaky. And I learned how to say, “I don’t know,” without shame — but with a willingness to learn.

House job made me stronger. Not just as a clinician, but as a person. It taught me that growth isn’t always loud or obvious. Sometimes it looks like showing up tired and still doing your best. Sometimes it looks like failing quietly, learning from it, and trying again. It’s the little things that build you — the things no one claps for, but that change you anyway.

Looking back on this past year, I don’t think anything could’ve truly prepared me for it. Not school, not textbooks, not even the stories from seniors who had “warned” me about what to expect. The truth is, you only understand house job when you live it — when you’re the one staying late, second-guessing yourself, navigating tough patients, getting called in at odd hours, and somehow still showing up the next day.

It wasn’t always graceful. It definitely wasn’t always enjoyable. But it was real. And it stretched me in the exact ways I needed.

I’m walking away from this year with more clarity about who I am, more confidence in who I’m becoming, and more compassion — for patients, for colleagues, and for myself. I’ve learned how to stand up for myself, how to sit with discomfort, and how to move forward even when I’m unsure.

House job didn’t just teach me clinical skills. It gave me a thicker skin, a louder voice, and a softer heart. And for that, I’ll always be grateful.

Here’s to the next chapter — whatever it looks like, wherever it leads. I’m not the same girl who started, and that’s the best part.