“And I told myself that it was justified, because one day it would all be worth it”.

 

Stu: How many times had I uttered these words to myself, unaware that in my pursuit of something greater I was actually selling myself short? Much like Jared during his gap years, by November 2018 I had hit a wall. Commuting to Manhattan, working a full-time research job, teaching the night lab at Hunter College, and attempting to study for the MCAT, I was slowly losing track of my own self. As Jared writes so poignantly, I felt like I was “doing what was necessary” to become a doctor without thinking critically about the sacrifices I was making. I put my family and friendships on hold to say “yes” to any and every opportunity that arose, because they were just “too good” to pass up. I distinctly remember walking from 42nd street station to Port Authority to catch the midnight bus home, winter wind tearing at my face, and when I finally sat down to sip some water I found that my proverbial well of happiness came up dry – because that gushing stream was two years away, traversed only through a desert and forest of essays and applications.

 

Eventually, my dark winter turned into a blossoming New York spring. While my perspective changed, I never fully appreciated the importance of mental health until I arrived at medical school here at UCLA. This was my dream school – the months and years of sacrifice I’d put in over the past few years were supposed to pay off in huge dividends once I stepped foot on campus, but sometimes life gets in the way. COVID changed the very fabric of our society, and I was confronted with the cliché yet simple truth: life and medicine is about the journey, not the destination. Just like Jared’s aquatic friends, after a seemingly endless odyssey of four gap years I realized that simply arriving at a destination will not instantaneously improve the conditions around you. If you feel like your plate is full, it’s okay to say “No” to things that will come at the expense of your mental health. That one research job, or volunteer work, or XYZ won’t make or break your application. There is no other time for prioritizing your happiness and mental health than the here and now – heck, in four years I’ll be in residency. Don’t let the prospect of the destination blind you from the joys of the journey; and who knows, you might just discover something about yourself in the process that you never imagined.

 

Jared: Much of what I’ve learned over the past couple of months regarding this journey can be boiled down by what Stu has described - “in four years I’ll be in residency” - meaning, there will always be another hill to climb. I’ve gotten caught up in the granularity of the present and forgotten this undeniable fact way too often. Although popular medical dramas or some users on reddit might suggest the contrary, we are human. We need and deserve rest, rejuvenation, and an escape from the stressors inherent in the pursuit of the medical field. It’s no secret that the medical field itself is unwell. Physician dissatisfaction, burnout and suicide are at unacceptably high rates - and that was before the unparalleled trauma wrought by the COVID-19 pandemic. While there has been a notable paradigm shift on an institutional level across the country dedicated to improving the mental health of medical students and physicians alike, it is equally important to internalize the prioritization of mental health on an individual level. For me, this has meant the normalization of taking time to myself, the prioritization of my friends and family, and becoming comfortable with taking breaks that genuinely take my mind off of medicine. While this will look different for different people, it’s essential that we each find out what allows us to decompress and recharge. It might not feel like it at the time, but relatively small actions such as these are vital in creating a sustainable and healthy relationship with your journey to and through the medical field.