Issue 30

Because I am scared of grocery stores, I find comfort in grocery lists. Whenever I enter a grocery store, my anxiety peaks, looking at the chaos of all the shoppers trying to get out of the store as fast as possible. Avoiding the hoards of people that crowd sale items is like navigating a labyrinth, unsure of which aisle will leave me trapped in a dead-end of owner-less carts. As I try to get through this jungle, I cling to my only solace: the list of items I came here to retrieve. A direct plan amidst all of the disorder and disarray, a sliver of certainty that encases me in a blanket of comfort. As I grow older, I realize that life is kind of like a grocery store, filled with people, opportunities (to save big), endless distractions. The difference between a grocery store and real life, however, is that life is infinitely more complex.

In the 8th grade, I had my whole life planned out: I would get into a good college, then a good medical school, then a good residency, and ultimately be a successful doctor. I dedicated myself to this, like it was as easy as walking down the aisle picking between apples or oranges. I made to-do lists for everything: projects, homework, summer plans, weekend plans. These lists flooded my notebooks and calendars. Every time something new popped up, it would be added to a list and later checked off. I began to rely on lists for everything, and felt helpless without them. I began setting unrealistic expectations of myself, and when I was unable to check things off my list, I felt unaccomplished, losing sight of reality. As my mental health and motivation deteriorated as a result of these unrealistic expectations, I began questioning the point of lists in the first place.

Reality came crashing down when my older sister was first diagnosed with primary sclerosing cholangitis. The news temporarily cleared the fog I was experiencing as a result of my mental health deterioration, and I was forced to learn to grapple with the scary truth. The odds of getting primary sclerosing cholangitis, also known as PSC, at a young age are extremely slim. On top of that, because autoimmune disease is so rare, there are very few research and treatment options for PSC.

All of these factors made me realize that my lists could never take into account all of the obstacles life presented, and that not everything was a matter of checking off a box to symbolize completion. Though lists may be helpful tools while grocery shopping, it is impossible to organize the chaos of life in such a way. The scary truth is that there are much larger obstacles than crowds of shoppers or grocery carts between you and your goals, and sometimes there are things that you can’t expect to complete.

So instead of focusing on the things I couldn’t control, I began putting passion and effort into other areas of interest, like STEM. Like a grocery list, many STEM problems can be solved through a routine checklist. They have predictable outcomes, but also strive to predict obstacles. In fact, scientists are taught to expect obstacles during an experiment. They are taught to take these into account and record the same data at different times to minimize error. Through STEM, I have learned how to manage my expectations, allowing room for problem and error, which are essential aspects of experimenting and learning.

The world is as chaotic and evolving as a grocery store. Many shoppers are all striving for the same item on sale, pushing their way toward the product they want the most. Instead of only focusing on the items on your list, learning to take your time to explore other options can lead you to new items you never considered before. Grocery stores used to scare me, but now they’ve become just another place for me to discover something new.

Lyndsey Kim attends the Academy for Allied Sciences in New Jersey. In her free time she enjoys writing and swimming. She hopes to study medicine and become a psychiatrist in the future.