Medical school is often described as drinking from a firehose—and I found that description painfully accurate. Before starting, I was eager and motivated but uncertain about how I would balance the demanding workload with taking care of myself. After almost three gap years, the thought of becoming a student again—and facing the “firehose”—made me nervous. I scoured online med student forums for advice to ease my anxiety. Spoiler: this didn’t help much. But I reminded myself there was a reason I got accepted: I can do this. I just hadn’t realized that making time for myself would become crucial to not only surviving, but thriving during my first year.
That pressure to keep pushing, to give everything without stopping for rest or reflection, wasn’t new to me. Growing up, I watched my mom—a dedicated family physician—spend long days seeing patients, with evenings and weekends used to catch up on charting and administrative tasks. And any free time was devoted entirely to her kids and family. Rarely did she ever take moments just for herself. This “selfless” mindset was deeply ingrained in me from an early age. I know this sentiment is pervasive throughout medicine, where the culture often glorifies sacrifice and self-denial.
Once classes began, I quickly realized that the endless studying, volunteering, and other responsibilities left little time or energy for self-care. Unlike a typical 9-to-5 job, being a student means there’s always something more to learn or do. The perfectionist in me convinced myself that any time spent away from studying was time wasted, and guilt followed every break. This brute-force mindset helped me scrape a pass on my first graded exam. But at what cost? My relationship with my partner began to feel the strain. I stopped cooking, something I really enjoy, and relied more on frozen and processed foods to save time. I felt physically stagnant, and noticed my focus slipping. Something needed to change.
After feeling increasingly drained and stressed, I knew I had to prioritize my health and wellbeing. I drew motivation from wellness events held at my school, where I learned the importance of a balanced diet, regular exercise, and adequate sleep. I shifted my mindset about school, making peace with the infinite to-do list and choosing to celebrate what I accomplished rather than dwell on what I couldn’t finish.
To support these changes, I began meal planning and tracking my nutrition, using a health-insurance-sponsored app paired with a continuous glucose monitor and a virtual coach. I also started an exercise routine, gradually going to the gym a few times a week for cardio before adding resistance training. As my understanding of nutrition deepened, I began incorporating more vegetables and protein and cutting back on starches and ultra-processed foods, connecting these habits with the biochemical pathways I was studying in class.
Over time, my body felt stronger, my focus sharpened, and my mental health improved. Planning quality time with my partner also became an essential part of my self-care, providing emotional support and something to look forward to each week. Volunteering at a student-run clinic reinforced the importance of these habits. Many patients struggled with chronic conditions like hypertension and diabetes, and I empathized with the challenge of managing disease through diet and lifestyle changes. These tangible experiences strengthened my commitment to maintaining my own health while pursuing a demanding academic path.
Beyond the biochemical pathways, disease mechanisms, and anatomy and physiology I’ve had the honor to study this past year, one lesson has impacted me the most. Building sustainable habits changed how I structure my time and meet the demands of medical school: with clarity and resilience. I’ve learned that setting aside time for myself isn’t something to feel guilty about; it’s a necessary and productive outlet for stress and burnout prevention. Starting my day with one healthy decision—a workout, a balanced meal, or even just mindful breathing—often sparks a domino effect of positive, proactive choices throughout the day.
Looking ahead, I’m excited to explore how nutrition, movement, and intentional living can support both patient care and my own growth as a future physician. While the firehose of medical training may not slow down, I’ve learned that I can. Choosing to pause and care for myself has helped me stay present. I hope more of us come to see that tending to our own well-being is essential to sustaining the care we give to others.
