What Was I Made For?

{dropcap text="W color=AF2234}hat’s your purpose in life?”

“Claudette” was one of the first people I met at Harvard and the first peer to ever ask me this question. I smiled and answered plainly. “To make other people happy.”

Claudette reminded me of my answer over a phone call just before our senior year. In her eyes, I seemed like a caring and pure person. But facing my past answer, I could have thrown up. I regretted it — how it made me sound naïve, like someone who could easily be taken advantage of.

I was raised in a strict Pentecostal household where my parents often quoted verses to me. I recall Psalms 118:24, “This is the day the Lord has made; We will rejoice and be glad in it,” and Psalms 23:4, “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.”

These verses were meant to provide instruction and comfort. However, while reading them, I often felt afraid to admit when I felt anything other than happy. This was exacerbated by parents who claimed sharing any familial issues with others was an act of betrayal — embarrassing the family.

As the eldest daughter of an immigrant household, I became our family’s emotional caretaker from an early age. For a long time, I believed it would be selfish to ask the same from others. There was hardly any room in our house to dwell in sadness. And eventually, I grew to feel burnt out from managing my parents’ emotions and grievances with one another.

In friendships, I was eager to be a confidant to friends but felt lonely when I needed the same care. I was and often still am terrible at being vulnerable.

When a former friend was concerned about her mother’s upcoming medical appointment, I routinely checked in with her on how she was feeling and called her when she unexpectedly had to go home. However, when I told that same friend I had a difficult time during my sophomore spring because of my own mother’s health, they visibly became irritated – stopping the conversation before it started. How come I always fell into the role of making others happy when I was feeling miserable?

I avoided visiting my hometown during my earlier college years to avoid the chaos between my divorcing parents and to make enough money to support myself by working overtime at campus jobs. I wanted to share this with my childhood or college friends, but I couldn’t get the words out — I didn’t want to be a “downer.” Instead, I’d tell them that I was staying on campus to continue lab work, which was only partially true. That semester was the first of many where my peers called me a “workaholic” who needed to take a break. If only I could have afforded it.

One time, a classmate asked if I was ever not happy. My smile was a shield that gave others comfort and reason to poke fun at me: “Adedoyin’s so innocent.” One classmate laughed when I feigned ignorance in response to a personal question. I listen, but I never divulge.

When Claudette asked me the same question over the phone, I gave her a new answer — one I only formed long after my freshman year.

I almost dropped out of college right before my junior year. I can count on my right hand how many people I’ve told. During the previous spring, I chose my fall term housing, planned my summer research project, and registered to take the MCAT. But my focus was elsewhere. I feared the last day of summer break would be my last day in Boston.

After my family home caught on fire during my sophomore year, my mom was arrested for trespassing charges that she accrued while she was experiencing psychosis. While she was incarcerated, I phoned legal aid organizations for advice on how to best support her. I learned that, through guardianship, I could represent my mom’s interests in court hearings and access her medical information to care for her after her release. I spoke with a volunteer who had moved her own mom into her house after she was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.

More than anything, I wished that I, too, could provide a home for my mom.

Unfortunately, like most college students, I did not have the financial means to care for a parent full-time. However, I thought securing full-time employment during a gap year would let me at least rent an apartment. After all, my mom had taken on debt for nursing school to secure a better life for my brother and me. She collected coins in an empty Utz cheese ball jar to buy us pizza and moved us into a house in a better school district.

After a divorce and being laid off from her nursing job during my freshman year of college, my mom began to have psychotic episodes that eventually led to us losing our home and her freedom. For the first time, I saw my mom — my lifelong source of wisdom and humor — not as someone who was invincible but as someone who needed support from me. It was my first experience being responsible for someone other than myself while navigating the challenges of the medical system.

Fortunately, my mom was transferred to a psychiatric hospital and released in time for my brother’s high school graduation. We secured temporary housing in a hotel. I recall watching “The Twilight Zone” in bed before my brother walked across the stage.

My mom reconnected with her sister, who helped her find a nursing job in a different state. By then, it was the fall semester of my junior year, and I was finally confident that I could stay in school. This came as a relief — despite working multiple jobs during the school year, I hadn’t saved enough money to pay for the security deposit, two months’ rent, and broker fees required to secure housing. With this burden lifted, it was easier for me to focus in class and dedicate more time to reintegrate myself into campus life.

Becoming my mother’s guardian taught me two things about myself. One: I find a strong sense of personal fulfillment and empowerment in the service of others. Two: I need other people just like they need me. Reconnecting with extended family saved my mom and I from a terrible situation of housing insecurity and continued unemployment.

“A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones,” says Proverbs 17:22. I am slowly but surely warming up to the idea of being vulnerable with others. As said in Galatians 6:2, “Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.”

When Claudette asked me again about my purpose, my new answer was: “To make others happy. And to find my own happiness too.”