Just before 7 a.m. on April 11, Ao ‘Olivia’ Kong threw herself in front of a train in West Philadelphia. She was the 10th student to take her own life at the University of Pennsylvania in the last three years. In each case, the high pressure and often-cutthroat environment of the school was cited as a source of extreme stress and a potential aggravator of depression or mental illness.
These stories have deeply affected me. I feel close to the victims and their families. While I did not know any of the students personally, I feel a connection to them because I struggled with similar unhappiness and low self-worth in the same environment.
I have done a lot of self-reflection since her death, trying to make sense of the tragedy while also assessing my own current mental health. At times, I worry about myself. I worry about my classmates. Suicide is the second most common cause of death among medical students, while doctors are about twice as likely to experience clinical depression as the general population.
I ask myself the same questions again and again. I can’t shake them. What sources of support are available to me in moments of despair? How can I safely navigate stress, disappointment and failure? In my search for answers, I turn to my past.
For much of my college years, I let my ambition to make it to medical school and to one day be a successful physician consume the rest of my life. I became obsessed with exam scores, class grading curves and competing with my peers to be the busiest, most sleep-deprived, hardest-working student in the universe. This was obviously unhealthy and turned out to be counterproductive, but fellow students and faculty alike encouraged these habits all the same.
Eventually I realized that while my schedule was full, my life was a lot closer to empty. I felt increasingly stressed and discouraged and the constant comparisons with seemingly perfect classmates made me question my own abilities. Something had to give.
At the risk of academic failure, I decided to scale back my studies and make time for things that made me happy. I made a conscious decision that, in addition to my career, I wanted my life to be defined by my health, spirituality and service to others.
Two quick examples will help illustrate this change. First, during my sophomore year I joined a community service fraternity. This experience allowed me to become more engaged in my community and to experience the satisfaction of alleviating others’ suffering. I soon discovered that doing so relieved my own stress and injected my life with meaning and value.
Next I recruited a friend to join me in a competition of sorts. We recorded daily compliance with a set of goals and every two weeks the person who had accomplished fewer goals cooked dinner for the ‘winner’. I’ll admit, consistent studying was one of the goals, but the other goals — daily exercise, eating healthily, getting to bed at a reasonable hour and regular pleasure reading — were worth just as many points. Our friendly game fostered achievement and self-improvement, but did so in a fun and positive way.
By my senior year I had discovered a surprising trend: when I maintained a healthy life balance rather than devoting myself exclusively to academics, my grades actually improved. I learned that equilibrium is necessary for success in every sector of my life. Much like the body seeks to maintain homeostasis to balance many important chemical reactions in various organ systems, I found that giving attention to a range of worthy pursuits optimized my overall success. More importantly, I felt fulfilled. Relieved. Happy.
I am now a few years older and wiser, but as finals approach, and the end of my first year of medical school with them, maintaining this balance continues to require daily effort. I am still overwhelmed whenever I begin to compare myself to my brilliant, high-achieving classmates — so I do my best not to. I still let school take over now and again, but when I realize as much, I try to lose myself in a novel or go to the gym. Admittedly, sometimes the only recourse left on a crappy day is a tub of Ben & Jerry’s.
Unfortunately, some among us will continue to suffer from anguish that requires additional, sometimes professional, help. There is no panacea for mental illness. But my own journey has made me a believer in the utility of life balance and the power in prioritizing health and happiness in a world where success is defined more and more by money and influence.