If you’ve known me for more than 2 years, you’ve probably noticed that my life has looked quite different lately.
After leaving The Mission at the end of 2020, I went to Ensenada, a place I hadn't really lived in since I was six years old. I brought my piano and made my parents' empty house on the family ranch livable again while studying for a medical exam. This test was the first of several that would enable me to validate my studies and become a physician in the US. During this time, I hosted a few worship nights with friends and waited for the pandemic to end.
Photo by Chris Aragon
When I ran out of money, I applied for a job at Hospital Excel, a private hospital in Tijuana, working night shifts on weekends and studying during the week. After nearly a year of preparation, I couldn't wait any longer. I decided to fly to Mexico City, then to Los Angeles, and finally head down to San Diego. The US border was closed to non-residents by land, so flying was my only option. In September of 2021, I took the USMLE STEP 1. The night before the exam, sleep eluded me. My brain buzzed with information, interspersed with random songs. At 3 a.m., 1 mg of clonazepam finally brought sleep. Waking up to my alarm, I felt drowsy and a bit disoriented. By noon, during the 8-hour-long exam, my focus began to wane. When the results came back a couple of weeks later, I found out I had missed passing by about two questions. I felt both disappointed and oddly relieved.
I continued working at the hospital and managing social media for American companies as a side hustle. At the beginning of 2022, I decided to visit Mexico City for the first time. While in Mexico City, I began to consider this a good place to move to. I met someone who was developing medical software, and I got involved in the project. Because of that project, I returned to Mexico City in March and then went to visit my friend in Costa Rica. As I shared that I was considering the digital nomad lifestyle for a while and taking a break from medicine, he asked, "Why don’t you come to Costa Rica for a while?" So I kept all these ideas in my head and went back home to Baja California. I continued to consider those options, but I didn't feel quite at peace about any of those ideas. Later, I considered, "Okay, I'll get my car, and my surfboard, and continue working remotely while staying in monthly Airbnbs along the coast of Mexico, attempting to get better at surfing." However, as exciting as these ideas were, they still didn’t feel right.
One day, I was doing my evening rounds at the hospital when I came into the room of a retired doctor recovering from Covid. I don't remember exactly how, but we ended up talking about music, specifically about pianos. This doctor wanted to buy a piano; then he wanted to buy MY piano. I told him it wasn’t for sale. He suddenly paused, turned his head, looked at his wife, and said, "Honey, the doctor is an artist, but medicine's got him trapped." That sentence got stuck in my head. In my mind, I looked up and asked, "God, was that you?". Either that or the convalescent doctor was delusional after spending a long time in the hospital.
One day, I was doing my evening rounds at the hospital when I came into the room of a retired doctor recovering from Covid. I don't remember exactly how, but we ended up talking about music, specifically about pianos. This doctor wanted to buy a piano; then he wanted to buy MY piano. I told him it wasn’t for sale. He suddenly paused, turned his head, looked at his wife, and said, "Honey, the doctor is an artist, but medicine's got him trapped." That sentence got stuck in my head. In my mind, I looked up and asked, "God, was that you?". Either that or the convalescent doctor was delusional after spending a long time in the hospital.
One day, almost as if taking matters into my own hands, I prayed what felt like a very significant prayer, and with a serious tone, I asked God, "Do you want me to go North or South? If you want me to go North, you’ll have to open a door, because I just can’t. If not, I'll just go South." During that prayer, all I could perceive was this verse:
my ways are higher than your ways
my thoughts are higher than your thoughts
my thoughts are higher than your thoughts
As the heavens are higher than the earth,
so are my ways higher than your ways
and my thoughts than your thoughts. Isaiah 55:9
Photo by Abdias Avalos
I remember the exact day I prayed this prayer because I posted the picture above on Instagram. The VERY next day, I got a text from a friend. He said, "Let's have a business meeting because I just met some people who need marketing services." This text intrigued me, as it felt like the beginning of the answer to the prayer from the day before. A couple of months earlier, I had met this friend before a worship night in San Diego. That day, I told him that I wanted to start a digital marketing agency, and he took that home with him. Between that meeting and his text, I had already filed for a company. Not long after, Sonoma came into the picture, I began managing social media accounts for several businesses there. While it didn't turn out to be what I expected, in a special way, it became more than what I expected (I might speak more on that later). This experience helped give way to a new direction in my life.
It's been more than a year since I've practiced medicine full-time. During this time, I've not introduced myself as a physician. Although, it always seems to come up when conversations go beyond small talk. I've had all sorts of reactions when people find out I "left medicine for social media". The questions I always get are: "Can you still go back to medicine? Are you leaving medicine for good? Will you take the exam again? Why social media over medicine? What do your parents think about you not practicing medicine?"
There's a lot to unpack there, but to answer some of those questions here: Yes, I can still go back to medicine; I am still licensed in Mexico. Will I take the exam again? I don't think so. Am I leaving medicine for good? No, that is not my desire. What about my parents? They are fine with it now; at first, they were hesitant, but they understood it when I told them that while I worked night shifts at the hospital, I began to feel that I didn't want to live anymore. Not that I hate medicine; I love the time with patients, but I can see how the lack of a healthy or normal sleep pattern affected my mental health. Also, general medicine is severely underpaid in Mexico. There is a part of medicine that I enjoy; I feel like my heart has always been in medical missions.
So, during the time I spent considering my options and what I really wanted, my thought process was, "If I want to do humanitarian work, I don't want to rely solely on donations." I thought to myself, "When I have a family, I want to be able to take them on a nice vacation to Hawaii and not worry about people thinking that I am misusing their money." I want freedom.
In an era where there is increasing cynicism when it comes to donating money to non-profits or humanitarian causes, I believe we need to get creative with sustainability so that the good work keeps going. In summary, that's what I am trying to achieve: I am trying to create profitable systems that allow me and others to do what we love, live good lives, and create opportunities for others along the way. Now, building a business is not easy, I am still learning that.
I am aware that I might be writing this prematurely, as I haven't yet reached my goals. However, writing is one of the ways I hold myself accountable, and also, I don't know if I am living tomorrow, I believe in telling my story today, while I am alive.
Some may find my aspirations unrealistic. I think that as I mature, I'm becoming less afraid of taking risks and less afraid of failure. Maybe, ask me if I still feel the same, once I have a family.
When I received my exam results, my friend who hosted me in San Diego, who by the way, has all the access to challenge and question me, asked me, 'Have you ever failed at anything?' To which I replied, 'Well, nothing as significant as this exam.' The more I think about it, the more I find my response amusing.
I've always been afraid of falling into the category of the man who is 'like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind' (James 1:6). I've always desired stability; I even told a friend recently, 'I wish my life were more linear,' and he said, 'None of ours are.'
I am on a lifelong journey toward becoming the man I was designed to be. This journey feels less like a paved road and more like choppy waters.
Sometimes, I feel like the entrepreneurial spirit hit me a bit too late, although my friends in their fifties and sixties would argue otherwise. Medical school taught me just that—medicine. I didn't learn about business. But it's never too late, and perhaps that's the biggest takeaway for you who are still reading this.
What's that thing that's tickling your heart, that you want to do but are afraid of taking action on?
Wherever you are in your journey, remember that life rarely follows a linear path. Confusion, setbacks, and redirections aren't roadblocks; they're course adjustments. If you're searching for the wind that'll move your sails, start by calming the storm within. And then, listen. You'd be amazed at what you'll hear when you're truly silent. My journey continues, and so does yours.
May your sails find their wind.