Growing up I loved to play make-believe. These childhood adventures always involved one of two scenarios.
One was set in a pearly white doctor's office.
“Can you tell me where your arm hurts?” I would ask my best friend/patient, Kate, who was propped up on our couch made examination table covered in crisp white sheets.
The second was set in a glamorous newsrooms I'd only seen on the television.
“I'm Brooke Porter and this is your nightly news.” I would calmly say into my microphone (actually a hairbrush) with my three younger brothers playing the camera crew.
Little did I know as an eight-year-old that my two imaginary worlds would set the stage for the next eleven years of my life.
Once high school hit I continued trying to take both roads. One road was participating as a member of my high school debate team. I had a passion for public speaking. There was no greater feeling than the moment I was able to shared that passion with the audience. After many long nights of crafting, writing and re-writing I was able to give them a small piece of myself. I came alive the moment I took the stage.
The second road I found myself traveling was a love for the medical field. I idolized my dad growing up and wanted to be just like him. So naturally, seeing him at work and hearing him talk about his experiences as an Emergency Room Physician, I gained a love for all things medical. I ate it up. Over dinner I drilled him about his day at work and the patients he'd seen. I couldn't get enough. I dreamt about being a nurse someday, finally able to put on my own pair of scrubs.
Near the end of my Senior year of high school I had the incredible opportunity to travel to Ghana, Africa with my mom. Throughout the school year she and I worked on raising enough funds to build a Kindergarten in the impoverished community of Ekorso. After many stressful days and a lot of hard work we were able to raise enough money and see the school dedicated. I watched as the children celebrated their new school house. I watched as community leaders and parents sacrificed what little they had to give us gifts of sincere thanks. I will never forget that day or those people. I believe they did more for me in their example and expressions of love than I did for them. This experience made me realize that whatever direction I chose in life, I wanted it to be one that made a difference. I wanted to have a positive impact. However, this realization didn't help in my predicament. I felt that both career choices were a worthy cause.
Once again I was torn with what seemed to be an endless battle inside myself. Which road should I choose? What world do I belong in? I felt a pull and undeniable passion towards each. Following graduation I came to Brigham Young University, the battlefield just got bigger and more intimidating. I couldn't continue hopping between paths. I had come to the fork in the road, and I was forced to decide. But still I couldn’t make my decision. Freshman year I continued trying to jump from one to the next but the distance between the two was getting larger and the jump more and more difficult.
Sophomore year came and I thought I had made my decision, the final jump. I had chosen my love of public speaking and creating. The first day of classes I was ready to take-off on this path, fully committed. I sat through my two communications courses fully engaged, yet slowly I began to panic. This isn’t what I had wanted. Did I make the right choice? After many discussions with parents that night and and much heartfelt prayer I was assured I had made the right decision. I’d chosen the right path. I realized that the pull to the medical field was what felt practical and what was expected of me rather than what I truly wanted. I had to choose for me. Not what made the most sense or what others thought I should do but I wanted, what I felt was right. I am now an officially declared Communications major with an emphasis in Broadcast Journalism and a minor in International Development and it feels oh so good.
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