Taking gap year(s) before medical school does not mean that you have failed or that you are “lesser than” as a student. These are the words I needed to hear as a resolute pre-med student who used to proudly proclaim that I was “going straight through” to med school. It was like a badge of honor—why do anything that would delay my path to becoming a physician?

The pre-med years were demanding, and at times I felt like I was living a life that I can only describe as one-dimensional: studying took top priority, and I was largely ignoring most other domains of my life, from my physical health to social connections and hobbies. The fleeting moments of goodness—shared meals with friends, heartfelt conversations, exploring my new city—were overshadowed by my singular focus on academic success and my drive to get to medical school as linearly as I could, even if it came at a great personal cost.

The short(er) and more straightforward path to medical school that I had envisioned exists in sharp contrast to my reality: the pandemic interrupting my senior year of college and complicating my ability to gain clinical experience, taking the MCAT twice, being rejected by every medical school I applied to in my first cycle, and making the difficult decision to sit out a cycle in order to strengthen my application. Not getting into medical school on the first attempt is common—according to the AAMC, in the last several years, more than half of applicants have not been accepted each cycle. Everyone’s path to medical school looks a little different, and that is OK.

Now, three gap years later and entering medical school this fall, I smile when I reflect back on the wonderfully rich opportunities and life experiences I’ve had during this time. On the practical side, I successfully strengthened my candidacy by working as a medical assistant for nearly two years and receiving another degree: an MS in medical genetics and genomics. The personal development I undertook during this time holds just as much importance. I often jokingly say that I’ve taken the time to “become a real person” before I begin medical school.

Particularly for those of us in the medical field who focus on caring for others, it is vitally important to also care for ourselves. We must, therefore, define our identities outside of medicine. Tell me about yourself. What do you like to do for fun? What are your hobbies? I genuinely used to struggle to answer these questions because I never made life outside of my studies a priority.

So, with the gift of extra time during my gap years, I threw myself head-first into exploration. Embracing the Zen notion of “Beginner’s Mind,” I began to harness the power of simply saying “yes,” welcoming change and opportunities even when it felt out of my comfort zone. I spent over three months perfecting the art of baking focaccia bread. I attended countless festivals and events in my hometown of New Orleans that I had always skipped because of the guilt I felt in taking time away from my studies. I made new friends and spent quality time with old friends and family. I presented my scholarly work at an international genetics conference. I did a deep dive into the benefits of a plant-based diet, completely changing the way I eat and feeling significant benefits. I scheduled every possible routine check-up that I had been putting off—my primary care doctor and the dentist. “When was the last time you came in?” Nervously, but in the spirit of brutal honesty, my most common answers were either “I can’t remember” or “Never.” Leaving each of these visits, I thought to myself, “That wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”

I tried countless different exercise classes, including pilates, yoga, rowing, and Barre. Stepping into these classes as a total beginner, I channeled any fears or sense of embarrassment into, instead, a sense of curiosity and accomplishment. Carrying with me the same discipline and persistence that I pride myself on as a student, I made a commitment to do some form of exercise daily. Recognizing the many benefits, with time, I found myself gravitating towards the forms of exercise that incorporate mindfulness elements.

I now attend a weekly yoga class in a beautiful, historic, deconsecrated church in New Orleans. Each yoga practice ends with Savasana (corpse pose)—lying on one’s back, facing up, for several minutes. This final resting pose looks deceivingly easy; however, I still struggle with quieting my mind and fully embracing stillness. Yoga and Barre have taught me the vital importance of carving out little pockets of each day for ourselves, however that may look for you. Drawing on my Italian culture, this is reminiscent of the saying “Dolce Far Niente,” or the “Sweetness of Doing Nothing,” which is fundamentally about slowing down and relishing in the joy of life’s simple pleasures. What is something small you can do each day for yourself that brings you joy?

The true hallmarks of my gap years were a global improvement in my well-being and learning to become comfortable with the uncomfortable. I will always be grateful for this additional time to “reset,” explore, and ultimately learn more about myself. In conversation with my physician mentors during this time, I found encouragement and support for my efforts to take a broader view of life prior to the start of my medical training.

Stories connect us. In taking the time to foster our own personal stories and knowledge of the world around us, we may, in turn, become physicians who are better attuned to the stories of our patients. Termed “narrative competence,” this capacity “to recognize, absorb, interpret, and be moved by the stories of illness” is at the heart of the practice of narrative medicine. Now, as I enter medical school with a stronger foundation and a desire to practice as a humanistically-informed physician, I feel a sense of peace knowing I have had the chance to nurture my identity outside of medicine.

As students, physicians-in-training, and life-long learners, we exist in perpetual pursuit of achievement and the coveted next step. Striving for an acceptance to medical school, a research opportunity, a residency position, an attending job, or an academic promotion, we may easily neglect the other areas of our lives. With physician burnout rates recently reaching an all-time high, it is more important than ever to prioritize our well-being and to strive to find the little pockets of goodness in our lives.

Ilaria Simeone is an incoming medical student.