Little boxes and not being stuck in them

The news of a boy prepping for his NEET committing suicide broke my heart.

Simply because it does feel personal. I did aspire to become a doctor. But being the terrible student that I was, I couldn’t crack the entrance exams. No surprises there. My parents did wrangle up a paid seat, but it just didn’t feel right. So I declined. A lifetime of being a terrible student had left me with a lack of conviction in how I’d fare in college.

So, like James McAvoy in The Last King of Scotland, I threw a dart at a bundle of prospectuses and picked the biotechnology science program at VIT. I hated it but I got through it. Predictably, I was a middling student who passed the courses and learnt something. In first year college, I did ask my mom if I could drop out and just do my thing. I didn’t know what the thing was. She said get a degree. It leaves your options open. So I stuck around and got it done.

But there was no way in hell I could pursue a masters in science. So between 2007 and 2008 I read, travelled and worked out for a year. I made my first piece of gym equipment that year too. I spent time with my dog, who I hadn’t been around for seven years.

In 2008, I took the GMAT and scored like 600 or something. A fairly shit score. I felt terrible. I remember feeling incredibly lost and confused. The tragedy was I was still looking for an institution to give me direction in life. An MBA can give me direction, I told myself. I was wrong. But I knew a terrible MBA wouldn’t count for much. I have no clue who suggested ACJ. But it worked out. Did well in the entrance and interviews. And I studied journalism. I picked broadcast journalism. Spoke clearly enough. But sucked at telling stories and presenting the plight of the everyday man. I got through the television assignments with some help from a friend. But I did ace the business journalism programs. And the teacher thought I had aptitude for it. So he offered me a position I was not qualified for.

Aided by a supportive boss, I did well enough at the job for three years. But again the office thing was draining my soul. I remember feeling incredibly restless. Like there was something else I needed or wanted to do. But I didn’t know what it was. And it would keep me up at night. Literally. I wrote some fun things. But again, I wasn’t a natural journalist. Mostly because the markets didn’t really give me a kick or joy. My colleagues enjoyed this stuff. The irrationality of it drove me wild. Stock markets, in my opinion, tend to amplify the worst human tendencies. To exaggerate a good story, freak out over any bad news, or look for precision and certainty where none exists. And grappling with this made me go crazy. And you had to take at face value people who were obvious hucksters, scamsters and liars.

I had to bail but didn’t know what next. I ran into The Quad in 2012. I started as a client. I loved what they were doing. 3 months later, I asked them if they were hiring. They said yes. I joined them. Worked there for 2 years. Before realising I loved the industry but hated being an employee. But I still didn’t have the confidence in what I could do by myself. Again, my head went back to an MBA. My now-wife told me it’s best I figure out what I could best do in life wearing a pair of shorts and a tee. Suits and shirts were not for me. So I quit in May 2014. Travelled with her for a month. And started coaching in July 2014. Opened the gym in December 2014.

And nearly 12 years later, I plug away, read, learn and help people. Not the way doctors do. But keep people from having to go to doctors as much. There’s poetic justice to that.

Nothing in my institutional experiences, college courses or the mentors I had could have guided me to doing what I do. It was a combination of trying things, being desperate, reading a little, not losing hope that I was capable of learning, getting lucky with upper-middle class parents and a terrific wife (and her family).

There’s a parallel universe (maybe) where the gym failed and I’m hustling to pay the bills. Odd jobs, coaching juggled with other things. Maybe a family business. I don’t know. I think about failing a lot. About getting screwed by others. It hasn’t stopped me from trying things. Often to my detriment. But it’s worked out more often than it hasn’t.

I wish I could tell that kid he should just try things. Go out there. If you want to help people, study physiotherapy, anatomy, physiology, nursing. Anything really. And just help people. Intern somewhere. Start something. Coach family and friends. Aim to become an incredibly knowledgeable and effective physiotherapist. There are options aplenty.

But the noise around him convinced him that the only way to help or make a living is through this one exam. On one day. And the degree that follows. And that overwhelming noise made him crack. It’s heartbreaking. That he didn’t have enough voices around him telling him there are other options. There are ways to make a living and for what you do to matter. But the environment he was stuck in shut out everything else. Failing that day made him feel like a failure. And that’s tragic.