Dr. Afoma Made Afoma the Entrepreneur Possible

A story about starting over — and what you take when you do.

Mar 29, 2026

For as long as I can remember, I’d always wanted to be a doctor.

Yes, I am the daughter of Nigerian parents for whom the only occupations that matter are medicine, law, and engineering. But also, I loved medicine for me.

White coat ceremony, St Vincent and the Grenadines

In medical school, everything I learned about the human body and its processes left me utterly fascinated, besotted with this profession that tended to one of God’s greatest miracles: human life. In Latin class, I fed my love for words, learning root words that tickled the language lover in me and in anatomy, I held real bones and peered into the bodies of cadavers, breathing in formaldehyde every day.

The best part, though, was the people.

When I started clinical rotations, I loved talking to people, investigating their ailments, soothing them while I drew blood, and reassuring relatives of their loved ones’ wellbeing. It was thrilling to watch babies be born, see patients respond positively to medications, and watch more people than not get discharged from wards. And yes, it felt gratifying to be thanked, admired, and sought out—even as a lowly medical student—for my expertise.

Medicine made my late teens and early twenties richer than I could have imagined, taking me to two continents as I studied first in Ukraine and then later in the West Indies.

But medicine was also grueling.

It was late-nights studying, all-nighters, anxiety-fueled cramming, the constant fear of saying the wrong thing when called upon during ward rounds, and a persistent dread of a life spent trying to be enough.

Writing exams, passing tests, striving for excellence.

Yet, it was my dream. The dream I’d pursued for over a decade. So when I decided to quit—and actually quit—no one was more shocked than me.

By the end of medical school, I was so burned out and tired of feeling anxious about work and my future all the time. It was like I had a permanent case of the Sunday Scaries. I wanted to have a life that allowed me to explore other sides of myself.

I’d always been a reader and a writer—even through medical school—but my desire to pursue other hobbies often cost me true excellence. I was a B+ student at best and I hated not being the best at it.

Throughout medical school, I wrote and submitted fiction pieces to magazines and picked up an ardent photography practice. I also blogged about fashion and style and often contributed to travel publications. I grew an Instagram account to almost 10,000 followers.

I wanted more.

Unfortunately, leaving meant abandoning “security.” I didn’t want more education, so a masters degree was off the table. I wanted to live and work without making my job my life. So that meant dropping the Dr. title for the most part. When it inevitably came up as people found out I was a doctor of medicine, it brought questions I was too sore to answer at the time about my past, my future career aspirations, and why in the world I would quit medicine.

Everyone, understandably, thought I had lost my marbles.

Most of my classmates admired my decision, but also thought I was a little crazy and many wished they could leave too. Several eventually found paths outside of practicing medicine. My parents were upset with me for at least a year. I think they handled things better than some parents would have, but it was hard for me as a people pleaser to feel the loss of their approval.

I felt lost. I didn’t even know what “profession” to enter on forms. It was like I’d gone from being at the top of societal prestige ladder to being… nothing.

So, I took a sort-of gap year to figure things out. I stayed one extra year in the Caribbean, thanks to issues of bureaucracy and war (long story) and that’s when things started to click into place.

To support myself, I did photography, nannying, cleaning, tutoring, and everything in between for friends and friends-of-friends. I applied to every job I could find, all the while panicking that I’d never find a job and my life was over unless I went back to practicing medicine.

While I actively avoided running into my classmates, I found myself taking on freelance writing jobs on Upwork, thanks to a nudge from my brother (who was studying to be a lawyer at the time—ahem).

To supplement my income, I tutored kids in English—having started to develop a passion for middle grade books around that time—and hosted in-person summer book clubs for kids.

Ten kids between the ages of 4 and 13, me and one friend, and plenty of books—what could go wrong? I’d wake up at 6 AM to make pizza dough and sell pizza slices, hot dogs, and sandwiches to the kids.

Then, I’d have readaloud sessions, some kids would listen to audiobooks, and others would read independently for about 3-5 hours.

By the time I was leaving the island a year later, I had a fledgling freelance writing business, a book blog receiving substantial traffic, and enough confidence to hold my own when I finally had to face my parents in person.

Now, that small book blog is my only source of income.

Press Restart is about starting over, but when you restart, what do you actually take with you?

I’m always thinking about what medicine gave me, because in more ways than one, it shaped me into the entrepreneur and person I am today.

People always ask what I took with me. Here’s what I tell them.

The discipline and work ethic of medical training made me tireless. So when I started a freelance writing business, I brought the same hustle mindset. Often, in the beginning, I worked with clients in the health industry, but even when I didn’t, I was dogged about research, learning about a wide range of things from marketing to parenting and artificial intelligence at an impressive pace.
Medicine taught me to sit with hard things. Being a doctor is seeing your patients get better, but it’s also watching people die. It’s seeing people get life-changing diagnoses, being in operating rooms where things take an unexpected turn, and learning to pivot and come to terms with hard news much quicker than you’d like. When we found out that my mom was sick, my medical knowledge was a blessing and a curse. I was quick to accept the hard facts, even though they broke my heart.
My curiosity about the human body has persisted over the years. It’s nicely balanced with my real knowledge about how the body actually works. I’m not easily drawn into health fads and “cleanses,” but I care about wellness, fitness, and what the research says. It’s why I’m always looking for ways to stay active, whether in the gym or in the pool.
The ability to think rigorously and communicate clearly is a gift that medicine honed. Doctors may have terrible handwriting but they write a lot. I was shocked at how much writing and documentation is involved in medicine—and then, the articulation required to present information to superiors. All of that, plus years of practice as a freelance writer have made me unafraid of the blank page.
The empathy developed through patient care is hard to let go of. I’ve always been highly empathetic but with medicine, you see people at their most vulnerable and it’s impossible to look away from their pain. I bring that everywhere I go still.

Life is not a straight line. Unlike what we think as kids, most people don’t just become one thing and stay there forever. Your identity is crafted over time. One doesn’t replace the other, but rather it is cumulative.

Leaving medicine behind doesn’t mean it didn’t matter; I like to think that Dr. Afoma made Afoma, the entrepreneur possible.

Now, whenever I talk to doctors, I try to share that I’m also a doctor. Most doctors want me to return to the practice but there are always a few who ask me how I left and how they can leave, too.

People ask me often whether I miss it and the answer is complicated.

I miss who I used to be in some ways. But most days, I’m so grateful I didn’t have to choose between who I was and who I was becoming.

Here are all the tabs open in my brain this week.

This was a shopping heavy week as I got some great items I’d been eyeing in the Boden sale and Land’s End sale.

This 95% wool sweater from Boden (above) is already my entire personality. I’ve worn it twice since it arrived two days ago.

I also got this dress and this one, too. I almost bought this coat but I’d hit my budget ceiling—ahh! The sale is solid with some items over 50% off, so if you’ve been eyeing anything from this brand which makes high quality clothing, it’s worth taking a look now.

My sweater jacket from Land’s End arrived this week, too. I’ve already won it once and received so many compliments! They tempted me with their BOGO sales this week, so I caved on this rugby top I’ve been eyeing and a white no-iron button down that I know will be a closet staple since I only own one white shirt right now—and it’s this fancy Sezane one.

You can see my daily outfits on Instagram or here on ShopMy, if you’d like to see what I’m wearing every day. Getting dressed is quickly becoming a fun hobby and creative outlet for me in this season.

This week, I’m listening to Lady Tremaine and feeling an interesting resistance to having a beloved fairy tale spun on its head. But let’s unpack that next week! I enjoyed this interview with the author about her desk space—she’s so stylish!

Still dreaming of this croissant BLT I had at Circles and Squares, a bakery and cafe here in Toronto, with some seriously cute decor and even more impressive pastry line-up. Yum!

💬 Your turn

What did a previous version of you—student, employee, caregiver, whatever the season—teach the person you are now? I'd genuinely love to know. Or, Is there a skill, habit, or way of thinking from a past season of your life that still shows up in who you are today? I'd love to hear about it.

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