Today, I was listening to a podcast featuring an attorney named Ryan, and his story struck a chord with me. His journey to law wasn’t linear—just like my path to medicine has been anything but straightforward. In fact, I’m still navigating the journey of finding my passion and purpose.

For a long time, especially during residency, I’ve struggled to feel like I fit in. Medicine has a way of isolating you from the world, particularly during your formative years, like your early 20s. While others are out exploring life and building relationships, you’re stuck in a hospital, surrounded by people who haven’t exactly had the time to grow socially. Conversations often center on complaints about rotations or attendings, which doesn’t leave much room for deep, meaningful connections.

I craved something more. I wanted to truly know people—but how could I, when so many of us were still trying to figure out who we were?

When I talked to people further along in their careers—residents ahead of me, even seasoned attendings—I realized I wasn’t alone. Many admitted that medicine had stunted their social growth. They felt like they’d missed out on important life experiences. Hearing that, I started to recognize myself heading down that same path.

At the same time, my own struggles with social anxiety began to surface. I felt like I was becoming someone I didn’t recognize, someone I didn’t want to be.

And then I heard something from attorney Ryan that truly stayed with me. He shared a story about a world-famous musician, Joshua Bell, who had performed at the White House and was celebrated across the globe. As part of a social experiment, Bell put on a baseball cap, took his violin, and played in a busy subway station with a tip jar at his feet. The expectation was that his incredible talent would attract a massive crowd.

But no one stopped. No one paid attention. Out of the hundreds who passed by, only one person recognized him.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t extraordinary—it was simply that he was in the wrong place.

That story resonated deeply with me. In many ways, that’s how I felt during residency. Maybe I wasn’t broken or lacking—I was just in the wrong place. Somewhere along the way, I lost a bit of myself.

I’m hopeful, though. With time, I believe I’ll rediscover my passions and find the people and places that recharge me. Blogging, for instance, reminds me that I am a creator. Maybe this is where I belong.

I don’t see myself writing to educate, but I do see myself writing so others can feel understood. My writing might not be the most academic, but if I can put into words what someone else is feeling—if I can give them the language to articulate their emotions to others—then I’m closer to my true purpose.

And maybe, just maybe, I won’t feel out of place anymore.