I wake up with a jolt, worried I missed my alarm.

The clock read 5:29 a.m., a minute before my alarm was supposed to ring. Turning off my tentative wake up call, I immediately began to panic, “How could I do this to myself! Without that extra minute of sleep, I might as well have not slept at all.”

I quickly try to salvage whatever few seconds of sleep I have left, closing my eyes, pretending it would make a difference in my day while taking the risk of waking up late. More days than not, this cycle repeats on an endless loop.

Ever since I was a first-year in high school, I’ve dreamt about making it big in life, starting with getting into an Ivy League school. I compiled a list of things successful people do: wake up early, study before breakfast, exercise, join clubs, read. I tried to shape my life around these strategies, hoping to build a foundation that would propel me toward loftier aspirations.

But, in high school, things didn’t work out for me too well. One failed class, two Cs and a multitude of Bs — not to mention my own lack of focus — shot that dream. I even had some trouble getting into Pitt, though obviously I eventually made it.

There are many people just like me, who wish and hope to work hard in school, in the process becoming excessively involved in clubs, attending every semi-interesting event and befriending anyone willing. But more often than not, stretching beyond your limits ultimately demolishes any chance of succeeding in any one arena.

I started my first year at Robert Morris University, a local college in Moon Township, as a biology major on the pre-med track. I later transferred to Pitt for my second semester of college and switched to a neuroscience major. I’m not sure if it was simply the transition to a bigger school or if the academics were truly more rigorous, but my grades dropped substantially, and, over the summer, I realized I had to make a change.

Now a sophomore in college with a new major, I’ve come upon a question that I’ve been avoiding for most of my life: Do I have what it takes? Finding an answer required me to focus less on the structure of my day and consider the personal roots of my struggles.

Coming into college, I knew time management would be key if I was going to be as involved on campus as I had wanted. Just before sunrise I would begrudgingly get up to hit the gym and go for a run at 5:30 a.m. I thought this would be a good way to keep myself healthy and stay alert in my classes. After eating breakfast, I would head to the library to prepare for my classes. Typically that involved falling asleep at 9 a.m. while reading passages from John Rawls’ “A Theory of Justice” or getting distracted by a video about the presidential election.

My classes were fine. I did my best to come prepared, listened to the lectures and devoted meaningful time to preparing for exams — albeit nodding off occasionally. I felt like I worked hard. My occasional falling asleep and lack of focus coming from the side effect of waking up early and studying to no end. Nevertheless, last semester was a struggle, and I fell short again. I was unsatisfied with my grades in two of my classes and finished with Bs in most of my others.

Even with my checklist for how to be successful and my drive to fulfill my goal, there was still something missing in my efforts.

Reading my textbooks about acid-base reactions or how evolution occurred was interesting, but it didn’t spark the fire in me the way other things did. Seeing myself as a doctor always was a dream of mine but wasn’t something I could see myself actually following the path to become. My checklists, early mornings and raw effort weren’t enough.

Cliche as it may sound, I discovered that the missing component was passion, or whatever you want to call personal investment in the path to success rather than just the results.

Stress can cloud how we actually feel about the material we study, but a fundamental mismatch between professional pursuits and personal interests can undermine or even sabotage those good intentions.

Rather than working until I’m exhausted in an attempt to find a space that someone else could just as easily fill, I’ve gotten to work and volunteer in roles that make me feel like an individual with purpose surrounded by others with a common desire to make a difference. This fall, for example, I helped register voters for Hillary Clinton’s campaign. I had to throw away the blueprint I set for myself and follow what made me feel like I belonged and mattered.

I still haven’t figured out all of my problems or exactly what I want to do in my future, but I do know I feel more confident about my new starting blocks. I’m applying to Pitt’s School of Business and minoring in political science — something that drives my passion, rather than stifling it for hours of uninteresting reading.

In short, I’ve released the old pressures I used to put on myself.

It’s important to spend time discovering yourself, finding out what you truly enjoy and what makes you want to learn more. Leaving my major in medicine to pursue business with a work-in-progress focus on public service has been life-changing for me. No longer do I read the textbook just to pass a test, I do it because I often find myself wanting to go even beyond the material assigned.

The pursuit of knowledge should be our goal.

Getting out of bed in the morning becomes much easier with the knowledge that I have something exciting to look forward to: actual fulfillment.

Write to Saket Rajprohat at [email protected].