I was living my life on fast forward. Then I crashed headfirst into burnout

I come from a family of fighters.

There’s my maternal grandfather, the sole survivor of his family. We grew up with stories of hiding in attics, basements, forests. I knew the narrative well, and already as a little girl, trained myself in the art of invisibility.

I figured out the best places in my home in case Nazis ever invaded again; I imagined myself running to the “forest” next to our home — a narrow path between two rows of evergreen trees. I was certain bears prowled there at night, yet I knew animals were safer than those barbaric Nazis. I’d blast cold water on myself during showers, preparing myself for horrific punishments that would surely be meted out. It would take a long time before I realized my “preparations” were laughable. And yet the fighting spirit burned.

On my father’s side, my grandfather rose from poverty by opening a successful cleaning business. In those days preceding Pampers, he would pick up and launder cloth diapers. As family lore has it, a businessman once approached him, inviting him to join as partner of a new, up-and-coming industry: disposable diapers. Prideful and fiercely independent, he kicked the man out of his store, insistent such an outlandish idea would never succeed.

I don’t believe Grandpa ever regretted his decision. He’d fought to build his business, he would continue to fight.

Then there was Daddy himself, a spiritual fighter. He left his hometown, a secular wasteland to travel to Ner Israel in Baltimore to explore his Yiddishkeit. His parents refused to speak to him for years, and they only reconciled towards the end of their lives.

Throughout his life, Daddy continued to fight for what he believed in and to pursue his dreams, even when seemingly insurmountable obstacles faced him. When he was rejected from medical school, he immediately explored other options. He ended up attending a prestigious medical school in Mexico. So what if he didn’t speak a word of Spanish? So what if he didn’t know a soul living there? So what if they once gave a final on Shabbos, and he was forced to retake the semester-long course to attain credits? He dreamed of becoming a doctor, and a doctor he would become.

My mother’s a fighter too. She was orphaned of her own mother at the age of 12, within three weeks of her mother’s cancer diagnosis. Overnight, Mommy went from being a carefree young girl to the housekeeper, the cook, and the only female at home, naturally shifting into a maternal role. Yet she graduated school top of her class, and then juggled full-time college and a job. And she speaks of those days fondly, remembering the crazy schedule she kept, the all-nighters she pulled, her Danish-and-soda breakfasts. She fought for herself, for her family.