Lisa overflows with stories from her childhood. She lights up when describing round-table family meals, summer campfires, or her embarrassingly drunk and quirky relatives. On the topic of her mother, however, this usually loquacious girl becomes surprisingly quiet. Sure, her mother makes regular appearances in her meandering remembrances, but in no more detail than a few words exchanged or inclusion in a list of attendees. I never noticed Lisa’s neglect to mention her mother until last year. For knowing so much about the minute details of Lisa’s life, I was surprised when she told me she was taking a year absence to care for her mother’s failing health.

Sadly, for displaying such loyalty and support for her family, Lisa received little of either from her fellow Stanford community members. It’s not that Stanford students are unsympathetic or cold-hearted — Lisa didn’t feel comfortable telling others the somewhat distressing reason for her leave of absence. She often left the justification to the imaginations of her listeners. The cost of her silence, however, was misunderstanding. When she would say she was stopping out a year, she felt other’s tacitly (and sometimes explicitly) labeling her as a lazy burnout.

Although Lisa’s acquaintances were uninformed by the truth of the situation, I think the reception of Lisa’s news reflects Stanford students’ general undervaluation of personal time.

Throughout the countless casual conversations over the years, I’ve established my own Stanford-calibrated scale of time “value.” High up on the scale are internships, social entrepreneurship, and research. Mentioning that I’m doing any of the above is received with smiles and eyebrows arched with piqued interest. Questions are asked and congratulations ensue. The middle range of the scale is filled with life-enriching, but less quantifiable experiences — including but not limited to: a solo backpacking trip through Europe, writing a novel, or volunteering to build homes in nations that require at least three vaccinations before approving entry. I find that purely personal time, such as time spent reconnecting with family or relaxing one’s over-strained psyche, is generally not considered a valuable use of time.

For instance, when faced with the possibility of doing nothing but spending my winter break relaxing with family, I didn’t even want to mention my plans to others. When I did, my own disappointment over my plans was then reaffirmed by others’ reactions to my agenda: “Oh, cool... So... what are you doing after that?” I prepared myself for being accused of the ultimate sin: wasting time.

But this break, I discovered that my value system was flawed. I discovered the same thing that Lisa discovered at home this past year, that sometimes taking care of oneself and one’s family can be more valuable than any resume booster or impoverished life saved. Personal time allows one to take a look at one’s soul, to rekindle mislaid goals, and to replace doubts with certainty. Ultimately these can lead towards improved performance in school, work, and other “valuable” activities.

Yet Lisa’s experience provides an example that many, including myself, still find it hard to weigh personal time equally with activities that possess a more defined metric of success.

Lisa knows that spending time with her family was the best choice she could have made. This past year was rough for her, and she struggles to articulate exactly what she learned from the year, she assures me she has gained “so much.” I’m not writing this column for her. I’m writing this column for the rest of us who, like me, have lost sight of the value of making time for ourselves and the people who surround us.