On a gloomy September morning, I sat in General Chemistry for the last time. 

I watched my professor drag his finger down the seating chart and call on students randomly to see if they knew the answer. Although he gave a tiny candy to those who knew the right answer, the prospect of being called on — and being wrong — terrified me.

I quit the pre-medicine track two weeks into college. I saw enough faces contorted with confusion and sympathy to know that this decision may sound baffling because I called it quits after two weeks instead of pushing forward. After dropping chemistry, I came back to my dorm’s common room and announced to the world that I was done with pre-med. My friends’ eyes widened at my words and one floormate even said, “That was quick.” They’re not wrong; we were all recently accepted into one of the nation’s most prestigious universities dreaming of pursuing medicine, and I just quit. 

I believe it was the best decision I have made since arriving at Vanderbilt. 

I could no longer handle the stress and pressure of my chosen path, and I am okay with admitting that. Before I dropped out of chemistry, it felt so taboo to struggle and to feel that I was the only one who wasn’t okay. When I considered staying on the course, I panicked thinking about spending the rest of my life in medicine. The idea of taking rigorous science and math classes with no confidence that I would pass and lacking any passion for the subject material felt defeating. I worried about graduating and applying to medical school while facing the possibility that I wasn’t dedicated, smart or passionate enough for a rigorous program. I woke up with feelings of despair. I went to bed early for fear of starting the next day. Above all, I was terrified I would be stuck doing this routine for the next four years.

Throughout my first semester at Vanderbilt, I looked around and saw students doing extraordinary things: ground-breaking research, leadership positions and prestigious internships. They seemed to finish the work faster than I could, understanding the TA even when all they said to me felt complicated. I immediately realized I might not receive sufficient tutoring or clear answers from my TAs. In my first college lab, I dropped my container of salt more times than I could count. I couldn’t stop shaking. By the end, I was the last to leave because I had a million questions and never understood any of the answers. Even struggling felt wrong. I dreaded walking into class and felt like it was all my fault that I couldn’t seem to understand anything. 

Now, I realize that I’m allowed to vocalize the struggles I experience and I am allowed to say, “I cannot do this anymore.” There is no life worth living without the happiness of living it. I have come to learn that there is success in closing the door that is hurting you and reassessing your options. There is always another opportunity to take advantage of, so say, “I can’t do this anymore,” and move on to something better for you. 

I understand wanting to be successful. I am from a low-income family and have always instilled in myself that I would make it in life. My parents have taught me my entire life to work hard and I know that one day, I want to be able to take care of them. I have a paralyzing fear of failure. I have always believed that failure in a class or career path meant I was a failure as a person. After all, how can I make my family proud if I fail? 

 My desire to support my family doesn’t mean I should suffer in the process. We are told that the American dream — the idea that you can attain your version of success and experience upward mobility on your own merit — is achievable as long as you work hard. We see people around us in classes and on social media flouting their perfect grades, stunning looks, exotic travels and full bank accounts, so we push ourselves too hard to be like them.

If, like me, you find yourself neglecting your mental and physical health to chase perfection, that’s a sign that it is time to make a change.

I quit and my world didn’t end. I am still a capable and hard-working first-generation student with a bright future ahead of me. Quitting pre-med does not make me less of an outstanding student and it does not make me incapable of accomplishing a good life. Quitting doesn’t make me less of a human.

Many of my classmates came from schools that could afford AP programs and never had to worry about whether they would have a science or math teacher that year. I always had to worry about whether I would have an adequate teacher. Would my teachers teach me what I needed to know? When I needed educational security, I didn’t have it. I continuously fell behind. When I came to Vanderbilt, I felt like I was the dumbest one in all of my classes. I was starting from scratch with no fundamentals while others may have had years of rigorous preparation for the rigor of college-level education. 

Sometimes, quitting is the answer. Yes, there are times when it’s important to persevere through something to determine whether it is worth your time and energy or not. However, there is no reason to wait three months or three years to let go of something that is not worth it. If it does not feel right internally, it will never feel right externally. There are situations where we need to let go of the major or job that makes us feel miserable in favor of something that will benefit us down the line. 

When I let go of a dream I realized I didn’t want, I didn’t suddenly become a failure or lose my worth. I found more admiration for myself when I decided to let go. I learned that there was no reason for me to withstand every tough battle when it felt impossible. 

Quitting allowed me to breathe. The pit in my stomach that had been there since the first day of school vanished when I dropped Gen Chem and switched to Gender and the City. I have fallen in love with learning how cities are not designed to prioritize women’s safety and gaining a better understanding of gender theories in this class. I feel confident, self-assured and comfortable speaking up in class. Focus on something that makes you excited to learn and stop just hoping it will get better. 

If you find yourself pursuing a path that is not worth it or feels too mentally draining, quit. Look towards your advisors, siblings and close friends, or pull out a whiteboard and jot down a pros and cons list. Take it from someone who quit two weeks in and is getting closer and closer to where they want to be. It’s important to know when to preserve, but also to know when it’s okay just to quit.