Happiness in Compensations

The day I see this, I will have achieved my happiness.

Before writing this piece, I met with my therapist and we spoke about the topic that lives deep in my soul, clouds my world, and secretly serves as the motive behind any major decisions I make. Within seconds of our conversation, tears began rolling down my cheeks and I could no longer handle the topic, in fear that talking about it would emotionally flatten me. And with this, I knew I had to write.

I was sitting at the dinner table, silently chewing my food, while my father sat to my left, speaking about his latest experience on the A train. Observing my nearly empty plate, he reached over, as though on cue, and placed more curry onto my plate, urging me to take second servings. Looking at him, I shook my head. But when he didn’t notice, I raised my hand up slightly in protest, saying “No, no, no.”

“You have to eat and become big,” he said, widening his eyes playfully to emphasize the word. “How else are you going to be a doctor?” Although he was giggling, I knew he was pretty serious. Everyone in my family is pretty serious about me becoming an anesthesiologist, a surgeon or a doctor, at the least . . . everyone except me.

Behind the unceasing smile and the sweet words, my father is aged, lives a colorless life, and is strained in every way due to interminable anxiety. The pain exists, but is always hidden. He may not know, but just a glance in his direction, and I can tell. The only thing remaining on his bucket list is to be able to pay off my college loans and see me a happily graduated doctor—or in any position really, as long as it is a prosperous position in the medical field. This is his “light at the end of the tunnel;” his happiness lies in my successful future. And in short, my happiness lies in his happiness. I half-smiled back at him and continued to chew the rest of the food. With it, I chewed down the desires I had for myself. I chuckled in my head and pushed aside all the hopes I had of becoming an educator, a writer, or a non-profit entrepreneur. Throughout the rest of dinner, my father spoke about all kinds of things, but I quickly lost interest and found myself drifting away with thoughts of my future.

“Where did I want to be in ten years? Would I even be able to become a doctor? And if by a miracle I did, would I truly be happy?” I questioned myself. After we finished eating, I took on the job of washing the dishes. As I scrubbed grease off of plates and played with lukewarm water, I allowed myself to think of and compare two different lifestyles: one of a doctor and the other of the woman I wanted to be. I already knew the answer, but for the sake of reconsidering, I asked myself again, “Which would make me happier?”

I didn’t want to reconsider. I wanted to go with my gut feeling and blindly decide. I wanted to live my life by doing the things I love and feel passionate about. But if I do, my father will be hurt for eternity. He’ll never show it or speak of it, but he is my hero, and I know this would break his heart. I am everything he has. I am his dream, his prize child. If I don’t fulfill his dreams, who will?

As any parent, he has expectations and hopes for me. And who was I to break them like this? I would never be happy if I did.

After all, whatever I think my passions are, they aren’t nearly as valuable as the passion I have to see my father’s smile—one filled with sincere glee and pride. The day I see this, I will have achieved my happiness.