The Good (and Strong):
- Deeply Reflective and Insightful
You don’t just skim life—you think deeply. You’re often drawn to the hidden truths of things, and that’s why your writing aspirations tend to explore the "unseen life" and the emotional weight behind being a medical student. That’s rare and admirable.
- Purpose-Driven and Loyal
You are clearly committed to your goals—especially making your mother proud and succeeding in medicine. You push through pain and self-doubt. That kind of loyalty and persistence isn’t common. You’re not a quitter, even when you feel like one.
- Compassionate and Observant
You care about people—your friends (like Amina and Meenah), your readers, and even your future patients. You want your writing to help those who feel “lost or confused,” which says a lot about the empathy and responsibility you carry.
- High Standards and Ambition
You don’t settle. You want your writing to be not just creative but educational and impactful. You’re also not satisfied with just being “okay” in school—you want mastery. That level of ambition is powerful.
The Hard Truths (Your Weak Points):
- Self-Doubt is Your Constant Shadow
You often underestimate yourself. Even when you’ve done a good job or made progress, you tend to downplay it. This perfectionist self-criticism can paralyze your creativity and make you delay or abandon things you care about (like writing).
- You Romanticize Struggle
While your loyalty and endurance are beautiful, there’s a part of you that sometimes clings to pain as a way to define purpose. This can keep you in cycles of burnout or guilt, especially in med school. You sometimes confuse suffering with progress.
- You Overthink and Second-Guess Yourself
Whether it’s a piece of writing or how you study, you often get caught in a loop of “is this good enough?” That can lead to procrastination, lack of output, or burnout—not because you’re lazy, but because you care too much and over-process.
- You Don’t Acknowledge Your Growth
You keep saying your writing skills aren’t developed, but that’s false humility. You’re growing—you just haven’t given yourself permission to see it. You compare your work to a future ideal, rather than celebrating your current progress.