I have long defined myself as ambitious; my goals were a guiding light for nearly every aspect of my life. When I started college, I knew I wanted to go to medical school and this aspiration shaped much of my undergraduate experience. It lurked in the background of long hours in the library, followed me to hospital volunteering shifts, nudged me to attend research meetings, watched me write countless secondaries, and weighed upon me heavily when I took the MCAT. When I finally received the long-awaited acceptance to medical school, it was as if my ambitious nature, and the years of effort preceding it, were finally being validated. Starting medical school was like planting my flag on the mountain peak that was my ambition’s magnum opus.
What I had failed to account for was the fact that I was entering an environment that was exclusively selective towards individuals who felt the same, or in many cases more strongly, concerning ambition. In a few short months, I was both impressed by the capacity of those around me, but also overwhelmed in a way that made me question my capabilities. My fellow students were juggling extracurriculars, research, hobbies, and social life with apparent ease. Their appetite to do more and be more never appeared to be satiated. In such an intense environment, declaring myself as ambitious felt tantamount to sinning. I started to question whether I was ever really ambitious in the first place. Had I just been playing the game at a lower level? And if I wasn’t ambitious, who was I?
When I think back to why I wanted to get into medical school, it was the same reason a lot of people wanted to become doctors – to help others. Through this, I could not only give my life meaning and satisfaction but also give patients parts of their lives back when they got lost in poor health. However, this meaning does not come without a cost. After all, our ambition is to be doctors, to be in the position to make the most crucial, life-saving decisions. Satisfaction is forever out of reach, because if we are satisfied too quickly with the care we give, what will push us to advance it?
This ambitious mindset instilled in clinicians can manifest itself in a variety of ways. On the medical student level, this might be the constant pressure to take on extracurricular activities or say yes to the latest research opportunity. Implicit in this line of thinking lies a particularly challenging thought: if I say no to doing more, is my desire to help patients less than the individual who says yes?
I wonder if these commitments feed into a mirage of sorts. Do we take on things so that we can do more in our desired residency? Or desired fellowship? Or achieve an ideal practice setup? We never truly realize our ambitions because, with each goal accomplished, there is a new goal just beyond it. We end up in a perpetual game where the goalposts are constantly being moved, and, like a carnival game, is impossible to win. And as we play the game, we rarely step away. Instead, we attempt to build a life alongside— we get married, buy a house, and have children as we continue to roll the rock up the hill. The rare times when it is accepted and perhaps even encouraged to step away from the game is when you push too hard and burn out. But of course, this doesn’t mean the game is over. Only when you risk exiting health care altogether does tempering your ambitions seem like a reasonable idea, as it is the only way you can jump back in as soon as possible.
Over the past year, my struggle to redefine my relationship with ambition was emblematic of an existential dilemma. I had difficulty understanding my life outside the framework of simply being an “ambitious person”. For the longest time, my definition of ambition meant that I was someone with lofty aspirations; I would shape my life in whatever way necessary to realize those aspirations, no matter the cost. Ambition was the driving force in my life, but I’m not sure that it needs to remain that way. Oftentimes, when we lack an understanding of our authentic self, we inadvertently end up using ambition as a surrogate to endow us with a sense of meaning. Although this can be somewhat sustaining, it is not uncommon to find oneself at a point where you begin to wonder if this is all there is; if your hard work has just been for the sake of being able to say that you work hard. I’ve come to realize that it is difficult, yet ultimately more fulfilling, to use ambition and introspection synergistically. In this way, ambition can act as a tool to bring us closer to our true selves as opposed to providing an escape from who we are.
It may be worthwhile not only for our happiness and longevity but also for that of our patients to consider a different approach– the “unambitious” approach. In the past, there have been times when I have felt an almost compulsive need to set the highest goal just for the sake of watching myself transform to meet it. But in the case of patient care, we don’t always need to walk into a room and be the best. If we treat patients while constantly ruminating about how we could have “done more”, we may be unconsciously undermining our capacity to engage fully with each clinical encounter.
So now, having liberated myself from the shackles of ambition, I find myself for the first time in somewhat uncharted territory. At times it feels uncomfortable. Finding my next goal is no longer an arbitrary process of reaching for the highest thing. Instead, what I choose to do is a product of a great deal of introspection, trial, and error, and understanding that true fulfillment does not come from how much you can change yourself to meet an external goal, but rather how much you can use what is external to you to help illuminate your authentic self.
What is your relationship with ambition in your career? Share below in the comments!
Neha Sahota is a second year medical student at USC Keck. Outside of medicine she likes to read, travel, and try new coffee shops. You can find her here on LinkedIn. Neha Sahota is a 2024–2025 Doximity Op-Med Fellow.
Image by GoodStudio / Shutterstock
