it’s 79 degrees during the early evening here in Puerto Rico at the moment. couldn’t help but get this off on the flight here. view and air are both nice from where I sit.

got my first tattoo a couple of months ago. something I had sat and meditated with for months before finally making the decision to make it a permanent marking on my body.

my right rib reads “humble,” and my left rib reads “hungry.”

what kept me from getting this marked on my body for such a long time was the fact that neither of these words could be used to define who I’ve been in years past. ask some of the people who have known me during previous years and words like arrogant, conceited and prideful will come up. perhaps even obnoxious. you could also hear that I’m quite passive when it comes to the things that matter. I don’t enjoy confrontation, nor do I like people seeing me during my most challenging moments. maybe because I don’t like people seeing me in my struggle when failure is a viable option. up to this point in time, I’ve been someone who has struck out looking more than I’ve struck out swinging.

then I realized that identifying who I wanted to be was a bigger reason for me to get it marked as opposed to the reasons why I was choosing not to.

I chose to get them in an area that I typically keep concealed because it’s meant more for me to be aware of it than for others to be aware. although, the warmer days will come when others can see what I permanently chose to identify with.

*know what you know, but most importantly, know what you don’t.*

humble,

it took me longer than I would have liked to realize that I’m fallible. and then when I realized, I chose to create a hyper-confident ego to be able to mask my trauma. but over time, I realized hiding things doesn’t rid you of those things - so all of my trauma (and the symptoms they came with) ended up resurfacing over time. I couldn’t quite pinpoint why I felt the way I was feeling with the things I had around me. I had all the stuff I could ask for. I had friends. I had a partner. and although I wasn’t firing on all cylinders, I was firing on most. I figured that I should have been content, you know?

but pain had a way of humbling me and it made me realize that I was only as strong as my weakest point. and that was pretty weak. so I got to work, and I confessed the things that were troubling me. really really troubling me. I began speaking my truth, letting some skeletons walk out of my closet and forcefully pulling some other skeletons out. and facing my fears and all my internal doubts head on. and it was crippling. it came with spontaneous anxiety and sadness. it forced me to sit and breathe numerous times per day. and it made me realize that my strength and my wisdom was in no way better than God’s — he has my best interest in mind.

for me, humility is making the active choice every day to realize that the praise doesn’t belong to me. it belongs to God. it also means that I don’t need to be some put together individual to be accepted. it means that God would rather see me in my transparency, with all my faults so that we can identify them and address them in recovery. and it means that I should be comfortable seeing myself in the same light that He wants to see me in.

so, now I wake up and I try to be gentle with myself. I try to listen to my soul when it speaks. and I try to act accordingly. and although it’s brought pain, it’s brought progress.

*coming for everything they said I couldn’t have.*

hungry.

it also took me longer than I would have liked to realize that complacency and comfort are the downfall of mankind… and they were certainly mine. so I began to tally my losses. especially the bigger losses. I had to — for the sake of humility, but also for the sake of hunger.

on New Year’s Eve of 2012 I got word that the girl I was seeing was locked in a bedroom with a guy who wasn’t me at some house party. and I got word from my ex girlfriend. that was humiliation at its peak.

in 2015, I watched my lady walk away from me and fell into a pit of depression after learning she had moved on so quickly. something I touched on in “concrete jungle” for those who haven’t read.

in 2016, I was graduating from William Paterson and applying to Doctor of Physical Therapy programs in hopes of pursuing a career. a few thousand dollars and 13 applications later, I was denied everywhere I had applied to.

and in 2019, I applied to medical programs after taking extra courses for years to become eligible to apply. American MD programs, American DO programs, and Caribbean programs.

and I ended up getting two offers — the two schools at the bottom of my list.

I’m enrolled in St. George’s University. It’s a Caribbean-based medical school with American accreditation. and though I’m eternally grateful for the opportunity to enter my training and become a medical doctor, I can’t help but remember all of the schools who had decided I wasn’t worth a shot. I can’t help but think of all the DPT programs that believed I wasn’t built to be a therapist. I can’t help but think of the women who chose the field over me. and although that’s how life goes… I don’t know.

I can’t help but want to give’em hell til I rest in peace.

so I keep those feelings close. I keep the feeling of failure close. I keep the dry taste in my mouth in short memory. I sometimes sit and put myself back in those situations and resurface the anxiety, the disappointment and the anger. I remain composed externally; I keep it cool. I have to — for the sake of professionalism and for the sake of the peace I’m trying to promote within myself. but I play angry, and I stay hungry.

needless to say, I’ve grown tired of coming in second because second is so unforgiving. so is third. or whatever place I was coming in. I just know I wasn’t first. as long as it’s in my control, I’m not coming up short because of passiveness or lack of effort. they’re gonna have to beat me by beating me; and I have to admit, I like my chances more than I like anybody else’s.

because my best teachers thus far have been my broken heart and my empty stomach.

if you want to be notified the next time we gather here for another (b)lesson, don’t forget to subscribe. i’ll always be looking forward to having you back. I can’t tell you what we’ll be talking about next time you’re here, but I can assure you it’ll be a good, quick read.

I’m excited to keep you updated during my journey - you’ve become a piece of my support system. all of you. but if you don’t see too much of me, don’t be alarmed - it’s all by design.

if I don’t see nobody but me, who am I gon’ lose to?

all love, love always — Eggy, MD.