Things I wish I could tell my younger self

Living up to a certain age, you’ll think that there are things you’d tell your younger self if you could go back in time. As I realized that no one could possibly return to the past, it also dawned upon me at the same time that my younger personas come in the form of my beautiful children. So here we go. Kids, I hope these help you in your journey of finding yourself.

1) Don’t get angry at other people. They're not your problem.

2) Get angry at yourself when you screw up.

3) Be graceful with yourself when you screw up.

4) Don’t be afraid of spending money. It's just paper that you exchange for experiences.

5) Spend less than you earn. Then you'll always have enough.

6) Save more than you spend. Then you'll always have enough.

7) Don’t stop working. The moment you stop moving, you stop living.

8) Know when to stop working. There'll always be time for work. Take some time for yourself every now and then.

9) Achievements take time; hours of planning, learning, executing, failing, re-learning, and eventually being a master of your craft through relentless (and boring) repetition. Be patient with the process. Be patient with yourself.

10) Success is maximizing whatever potential you have at any one point of your life, given your particular situation and resources at the time. Success is not an endpoint. It’s a perpetual journey, a culmination birthed from the series of achievements you've attained through past experiences. It's a marathon, not a race. It doesn't matter how fast you can run, but how long you can last.

Homesick

In about a month's time, I would be in government service for seven years.

It's been an incredible experience, but it's also been heart-wrenching.

I sacrificed many things that were dear to me. Time with my wife. My children. My own hobbies. There were many sleepless nights. If you weren't on call, you were up reading some book. There's always something to read. You can't afford to be uninformed.

In chasing what I thought was my dream to become an internist, I missed out on my son growing up. I missed out on bringing my wife to that romantic dinner that she deserves. I missed out on the transition of my prematurely delivered daughter into the beautiful princess that she is today. I hope she knows that her father loves her more than any other pubescent boy with oily acne-prone skin ever could.

I missed out on discovering my own life, finding my purpose for whatever finite time I have left on this earth. We all die some day. Some go in peace, knowing they've done and achieved all they wanted. Not all are as privileged.

I've been away from home for almost two years. The missus makes the house a home. The children smile when they see my face on a screen. Things seem okay on the surface, but I know that I'm not the only one who feels this burden. The absence of a husband and father must be tangible somehow.

Was it all worth it? I'd like to believe that it was. Sometimes it doesn't feel that way. Surely no job or career advancement is worth breaking your heart and trading away what brings meaning to life. At least not perpetually.

It's just one of those days. Wistful rumination stirred by a strong yearning for home. No one to talk to as I contemplate on what really is best for myself and my loved ones. The only reasonable course of action is to chew on whole meal bread and sob myself to sleep.