Meghana G.
If you’re reading this, chances are you’ve felt the weight of endless lectures, sleepless nights, and that quiet voice in your head asking, “Am I really cut out for this?”
I know exactly how you feel—because I’ve been there too.
When I first visited my medical school campus, the thought of moving two hours away from my family and best friends scared me to my core. I’d lie awake wondering if I even belonged here, if I was capable enough to succeed in medical school and, one day, become a doctor. Then July rolled around and orientation week flew by in a blur of introductions and syllabi. I felt already beaten before classes even began—cramming lectures, drowning in emails, and convinced I was miles behind.
Then came August: my first exam. To my surprise, I walked out of that exam room feeling something I hadn’t expected—confidence. It was the first time I truly believed I could succeed here. That moment taught me a vital lesson: doubt is our worst enemy. In a profession built on evidence and certainty, we often forget to give ourselves the same compassion we’d extend to a patient.
Medical school is exhausting—mind, body, and soul. It’s so important to carve out time for yourself, even when it feels impossible. Schedule a FaceTime call with your best friend and let the laughter remind you who you are outside of exams. Visit your family whenever you can and let their love recharge you. Or simply slip on your headphones, hit play on your favorite playlist, and take a long walk around campus. These small acts of self‑care aren’t luxuries; they’re essential to staying balanced, resilient, and present.
We need honest conversations—finding classmates who look as frazzled as you feel, and sharing your story. You’ll be amazed how often a simple “Me too” can lift the heaviest burdens. Seek out faculty mentors who model vulnerability, those who share their own struggles with burnout, imposter syndrome, or work–life balance.
Caring for others starts with caring for ourselves and each other. We deserve a culture in medicine that values connection, compassion, and authenticity as much as clinical skill. You’re not alone in your doubts. You’re stronger than the hardest shift you’ve survived. And you are absolutely capable of becoming the kind of doctor who heals not only bodies, but hearts.
Sincerely,
Meghana G., Second Year Medical Student
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.