School vs Sleep: A Struggle of Self-Worth

Definitely still a work in progress.

It’s 2am, and although I vow to never drink caffeine after 3pm because it wrecks my sleep, I have a matcha in hand. I’m only on my fourteenth lecture slide out of seventy. It feels like everything—from Cyathostomins, Strongyloides, to Ascarids —has blurred into one big mess, all sharing the same hosts, the same infective stages, the same life cycle. My brain, at this point, cannot tell the difference.

Then my phone lights up. A meme from my brother, who is probably strapped to a desk at McMaster University (JHE or Thode library, specifically), also awake, also behind, and convinced this next exam will finally break him. We talk about school constantly, but we’ve never talked about it being a problem.

He’s a third-year in Electrical Engineering, so school is doing him some critical damage, too (probably even worse than the hits he took in League of Legends). Even when school is the only thing on his plate, he still lets it take over his entire headspace, looming like a giant dark cloud of anxiety and frustration, threatening to burst at any moment. We’ve both been there—staring at our grades and feeling like we could have done better, yet everything we try still lands us at a less-than-ideal average. Is it because we set the bar too high, putting too much weight on our grades? Or are we wasting time dreading the doom, when that same precious time could be spent outdoors, refreshing our minds, moving our bodies, and recharging ourselves so that our actual study time could be more efficient?

I think my brother and I share the “lost-in-the-sauce” genes, where we let whatever is in front of us slowly consume everything. We fixate on it, making it bigger and more threatening day by day, until we forget there was ever anything else. And then we wonder why we’re so exhausted.

My brother Jake and I, positively alive, in a rare moment when we didn’t have to worry about school.

If three of my personal life aspects walk into a bar (call it the S-tiered trio): Sleep, Social Life, and School—the bartender would say, “Sorry, we only serve two of you at a time. Actually, it’s April, so only one of you can stay.” And we all know who’s staying until 3am, drowning in caffeine and her own tears.

But fortunately, not all veterinary students share this self-destructive mentality (and if you don’t, consider yourself lucky for already having life figured out. Kudos!). I really admire one of my classmates, Chang, for it. After a tough exam, we talked about our plans for the rest of the day. Mine was to go home and nap. His was to go to the gym. He mentioned he had been gymming every single day and sleeping nine hours every night. When I asked him how he found time to study for exams, he said, "I just study whatever I get to, and whatever I can." That stuck with me. School simply cannot matter more to him than his health. I now picture Chang with a full glowing halo around his body. Bro is 25 and has already reached enlightenment.

Chang, on the left, and Dharma, on the right. These two dorks brighten up my vet school days in ways they probably don't even know. We made our first pot of Bun Bo Hue together with our partners that day!

To be completely honest, I’m still struggling to balance and prioritize my health over school. So many questions, so many fears. Can I get things done if I stop studying when I’m tired? What if I only dedicate one hour instead of three? Will I still remember what I need to? Or am I not studying effectively and losing 40% of my time to doomscrolling and distractions?

The deeper issue, though, is that I often tie my self-worth to my grades. In first year, vet school was all exciting and new. I was eager to learn about anatomy, surgery, and how to physically examine animals. In second year, things quickly ramped up. Courses got heavier, with names that were hard to remember and even harder to pronounce (remember Levetiracetam?). I started seeing 70s and 60s and got so negative, so wound up in those marks. I spent my entire second year just trying to keep my average from dropping (I was taking it so seriously that it actually got a tiny bit better than first year. Progress, I guess?).

Then third year came, and I was just tired. Tired of that mentality, of associating my identity with a number on a screen. So I made a conscious decision to let go. Instead of getting upset over every mark or obsessing over every fine detail in the material, I spent time focusing on my mental health. I journaled, wrote, played music, and spent lots of quality time with family, friends, and myself. It truly helped.

But I still can’t get the physical health right! I still can’t push myself to go to the gym, or to sleep before midnight, or to consistently get eight hours. We’re almost halfway through 2026, and I’m still not hitting 2 out of 3 of my New Year’s health resolutions (I did manage 1 out of 3, which was to be more reflective and look inward rather than outward. More on that another day).

I haven’t stopped writing since, either in my journal or on here. And I love that my thoughts are finally being heard, whether by myself or by you all!

At least now, with every minor inconvenience, I’ve learned to bring myself back down instead of having a full meltdown (breakdance over breakdown, amirite?). I look at life a little happier and lighter than I did in 2025 (it was a struggle year). I smile more at the little things. Maybe I shouldn’t be so hard on myself. Maybe I should just give myself a pat on the back for climbing out of the hole that 2025 dug. Congratulations: you are still alive, a bit more yourself, and positively, slightly perkier.

Either way, this next chapter looks completely different from anything before it. Lectures are done, proctored exams are done, and late-night cramming is hopefully done too. The one exam that matters right now is the NAVLE. Most of my days from here on out will be spent in clinics, working with real animals and real people, applying what actually matters after three years of vet school. And it’s definitely not what kind of teeth a crocodile has (I apologize to my Comparative Anatomy professor, whom I truly adore).

Nervous? Absolutely.

Excited? More than I know how to say.

Whether I’ve finally left the grade-chasing behind, or just traded it for a different kind of dread? I guess we’ll find out.