🩺 Scrub In: The Motivated Med Life

I have recently learned to enjoy doing something small but consistently, and to look forward to the effects over a longer period of time: six months, a year, or more. In the past, I made goals with the mindset of achieving results as quickly as possible. If I wanted to lose weight, I planned to shed all of it in a year and calculated exactly how many calories I’d need to cut daily. If I wanted to pass Step 1, I went to UWorld and calculated how many questions I’d need to finish each day to complete all 4,000 before my exam date. In theory, these plans were good.

During my first year of medical school, I wanted to learn medical Spanish. I planned to start in the summer and see results by the beginning of second-year rotations. My motivation was strong, and I believed that seeing results in less than a year was proof that my plans were solid. But just because you make a plan does not mean it’s a good one. Just because you do your best does not mean you will finish it. What I didn’t realize was that as my plans grew more ambitious, I often failed to plan for failure and setbacks.

I wonder what my Step 1 preparation would have looked like if I had been more forgiving of myself earlier. What if I had built in days for burnout and fatigue? What if I had planned for rest as full, intentional rest days instead of half days or rushed make-up days? What if I had exercised simply to feel better, instead of trying to also become fitter while studying for Step 1? I don’t know. Maybe I would have learned to be kinder to myself sooner, and to build plans around my strengths rather than constantly seeing my tendencies as weaknesses to fight against.

It’s hard to switch gears, but it’s a lifelong lesson for me as a lifelong planner. Planning was one of the few things in my control. It became my quiet strength, my way to overcome not being the fastest memorizer or the best crammer. I planned, I paced myself, and usually things worked out. Until they didn’t, in the form of Step 1. That failure taught me that overplanning doesn’t always work.

Now, I’ve learned to tone down the severity of how much I plan. Instead of rushing to lose weight, master a new language, or pass an exam as soon as possible, I’m learning that some goals simply take time. Giving myself that time isn’t a failure in discipline—it’s actually a strength.

Here are some examples:

I’ve always felt like I was terrible at writing. But through these short blog posts (with help from tools like Grammarly and ChatGPT), I’ve been able to express my thoughts regularly. I’m not in a rush to become a popular blogger. I’m simply taking it one post at a time, hoping that my reflections can help others on their own journeys. In some ways, this blog has been very therapeutic.

I’ve tried so many diets: keto, vegan, vegetarian, fasting, smoothies, and vitamins. Every time, I felt like I was failing. I’d lose a little weight, then gain it back once the plan became too hard to maintain. This time, I looked for the smallest, most sustainable change. Is it perfect? No. Will I lose a ton of weight this year? Probably not. But I’m seeing small daily results. I’m less likely to eat a whole bag of chips or a tray of cake. I recognize cravings sooner and find healthier swaps. I’ve reframed success: maintaining my weight is a win, and losing half a pound is progress. I’m more thankful for my body’s signals, and I’m slowly learning to appreciate it rather than punish it.

I’m also using Duolingo to learn Spanish, and I’m enjoying it. Can I hold a fluent conversation? Not yet. But I don’t get as frustrated when I lose all my Duolingo hearts. I enjoy revisiting old words, learning new ones, and realizing how far I’ve come. I may not be able to interpret medical Spanish soon, but being able to say hello or a few welcoming words could mean a lot to future patients.

And then there’s Step 1. It’s been almost a year since I last took it, and after meeting with an advisor, I’ve reflected on how much this journey has taught me. I’ve realized I’m a morning person, so I need to structure my test day around that; finishing more blocks before noon so I can take more breaks when I’m fatigued in the afternoon. I’ve also learned that I’m a conceptual thinker. Instead of forcing myself to memorize disconnected facts, I work best when I tie details to broader concepts. That may be why I’m starting to notice patterns in UWorld and NBME questions; they often test the same key concepts. Making sure I deeply understand those diseases, their symptoms, treatments, and side effects will earn me more points than cramming flashcards ever did.

I’ve grown a lot this past year, even without passing Step 1 yet. I’ve learned to see myself as a lifelong learner and thinker. My growth isn’t invalid just because it hasn’t yet translated into the passing score I want.

When we make plans, we have to be careful not to let them dictate how we grow. Like plants, people don’t always thrive in rigid outlines. Plans may provide structure, but they need real-world experience to grow and adapt.