Marissa R.

Photo provided by Marissa R.

If you’re reading this, know that what is meant for you will always be yours.

In a world that often fosters self-doubt, comparison, and an unrelenting pressure to perform, it’s only human to question your path. Medical school only magnifies those feelings. The stakes feel higher. The expectations heavier. And the moments of quiet uncertainty? They may come frequently, carrying an even greater weight.

I know I’ve felt them—wondering if I was enough, if I was on the right path, if I would ever make it through. More than once, I’ve found myself sitting with that uncomfortable silence of the unknown. But it’s in those very moments that I’ve learned to pause, step back, and return to who I am amidst it all.

Over the last decade, I’ve faced my fair share of failure. So much so that I now call it friend. Initially, it was difficult not to question, “Why me?” But in time, I began to understand that it's in life’s detours— or what I refer to as the hard left turns—that we come face-to-face with who we truly are.

I wasn’t accepted into medical school during my first application cycle. And today, I wouldn’t change that fact if I could. At the time, it felt like I was falling behind, my dreams out of reach. But in truth, I was right on course. Maybe not according to my map, but to a greater one. Looking back, I wasn’t ready. There were still lessons I needed to learn—experiences that would shape me into someone prepared to take on the lifelong oath to serve others.

Rejection cracked me open revealing parts of me I hadn’t yet met, and for that I am so grateful. When I stopped asking “Why me?”and started asking “What is this here to teach me?”—everything shifted. My setbacks became teachers. My obstacles, mirrors. Each challenge, an invitation to grow.

I learned to let go. Let go of the need to control.  Let go of needing to know all the answers. And most importantly, let go of the illusion that everything has to make sense right now.

I learned that if something leaves, we must let it. I am no stranger to the challenge I am presenting. Letting go doesn’t come easily to someone who finds comfort in control. It’s a daily practice, and some days are harder than others. But it’s only when we loosen our grip that we can create space—for what’s coming, for what’s meant to be, for what’s truly ours.

This is the essence of unexplainable certainty. Or what I identify as faith, a peace beyond understanding. If you’re being challenged right now, it’s not a sign that you’re falling behind - it’s proof you are ready to grow. Every setback, every heartbreak, every failure—it’s all guiding you closer to your purpose.

You may not be able to change your circumstances. But you can change your perspective. And that will change everything.

And if nothing else please take this reminder: What is meant for you will never miss you. And what misses you was never meant for you.

It’s easy to get caught in the loop of “Why not me?” Especially when you’re watching others move forward while you feel left behind. But comparison is a thief—it steals your joy, your peace, and your presence. Their path is not your path. Their pace is not your pace. There can be no fair comparison. You are not in competition with anyone else.

The only person you’re meant to outgrow is the one you were yesterday.

So when the next challenge arrives—and it will—don’t see it as a test of your worth. See it as a call to action. A chance to grow. A moment to trust yourself again.

Because at the end of the day, the only one who can stand in the way of what’s meant for you—is you.

Love always,

M

Q: How do/did you manage the stress of preclinical training, such as learning high volumes of detailed information and increased levels of competition?

A: While it’s easy to get swept up in the competitive and high-pressure environment of medical school, I hope this letter resonates with students and brings hope. I don’t view my classmates as competition; I truly want them to succeed just as much as I want success for myself. Their win is not my loss, there is more than enough to go around. For me, the only competition is internal—I strive each day to grow from the day before and trust that what is meant for me will never pass me by. It can be hard for me to stay focused so I tend to work privately, which to some degree also helps me avoid the distractions that come with constant comparison to my colleagues. The ability to compartmentalize is a skill I developed in college and have carried with me into medical school. With most of my friends and family outside of medicine, I’m able to step away from the academic mindset and be fully present with them. Staying connected to loved ones reminds me that life exists beyond exams and lectures. Their presence gives me space to breathe, reflect, and when I return to my studies it is often with a clearer mind.

Q: Is there a habit or practice that changed the game for you regarding your own mental health/coping?

A: The first and last hour of my day are reserved for what I call “Human Time”—an intentional pause from studying, work, research, and emails. Each morning begins with a devotional and quiet time for prayer and reflection, grounding me before the demands of the day begin. I then take care of small household tasks, which would otherwise distract me during the day.  And at the end of each day I turn to reading or writing as a way to wind down. As it's clear I thrive off routine, I’ve carried forward the habits I built as a student-athlete, prioritizing daily movement and nutrition. Carving out time for a workout, a walk outside or a home cooked meal is a way that I can show up for myself and respect my mind and body. 

Q: How do you envision incorporating self-care practices and prioritizing mental wellness into your future medical career?

A: In my future medical career, I hope to build upon the habits that have grounded me thus far. Protecting the first and last hours of my day, prioritizing nourishing meals, staying active, nurturing hobbies, and making time for loved ones are all ways I remain rooted in who I am. I have heard many physicians share the sentiment that they’re better doctors because they’re also parents, and better parents because they’re doctors for example, though the role can encompass many other passions and relationships. I believe it’s essential to remember that in caring for others, we are people first, too. Our patients don’t always want a textbook-perfect doctor; they want someone who can bond over a shared love of sailing, who remembers their grandchildren’s names, and who, even in the busiest moments, slows down to make them feel truly heard and cared for.

A love language of mine is creating playlists. This is for those who may be seeking comfort, understanding or solace. Please know that you are not alone. There are better days ahead. And what’s meant for you will always be yours.  

Several studies have revealed that medical students, physicians, and healthcare professionals experience mental health symptoms at rates significantly higher than the general population. Stethos[Cope] is a chapter of IfYoureReadingThis designed to help medical students and professionals cope with the unique stressors of medical training and change the narrative of mental health in medicine.

To read more letters and interviews from students, and to learn more about mental health in the medical community, visit the Stethos[Cope] home page.