"Take care of yourself, you don't want to burn out." A phrase I've heard many times again. That could never happen to me I thought. The cynicism, the apathy, the loss of compassion. I always believed I had an endless supply of compassion, that it was one of my strengths. But no matter how resilient you are, everyone is at risk. Everyone has a breaking point.
It can start out so subtle, sneaking up like gas prices until one day you just can't. It starts out as just feeling "more tired" than usual, despite sleeping at least seven hours. Then, you slowly stop doing things. You justify it as "I'll treat myself to take out" when in reality you've exhausted the mental reserve required to make dinner. Scotch tape atop the cracks, trying to keep them from spreading. You stop studying, telling yourself you've done enough work for the day and deserve a break. Next, you find yourself overly annoyed waiting in line at the grocery, I mean how long does it take someone to get out their debit card really. You justify it as "oh what annoying people, how are they everywhere", while behind that your subconscious is screaming the mantra of "I can't do this anymore, I can't take anymore". You stop going to the gym and spending time with friends, justifying it as "I need me time" which although true, you don't want to even give people a chance to figure out that something is wrong. You don't even want to acknowledge the downward spiral you are on.
Sleep begins to intrude into wakefulness and wakefulness intrudes into sleep. You spend the entire day trying to stay awake, coffee after coffee, and lie in bed awake at night trying to silence your forever active brain. Stifle its cries for help. You find your eyes filling up with tears randomly throughout the day - quiet rides in the elevator, making your coffee in the cafeteria. You tell yourself it's from that difficult patient interaction you had the other day, but you know it's not.
Burnout looks like smiling faces, and kindness, all the while on the inside you are rolling your eyes as the 6th patient that enters your office cannot answer basic questions like "what brought you here today?", "what medications are you taking?", and "when did the trouble start?". You begin to wonder what you could possibly do for the 3rd patient in a row who denies having diabetes and refuses to take their medication, all the while begging you to fix their diabetic neuropathy. You begin to see your patients as inconveniences, frustrations, numbers, morons. Morons? I knew something had snapped inside me the moment that crossed my mind. Never in 4 years have I ever thought of my patients as anything less than remarkable. This is not what first year me would have wanted. But frantic residency applications on top of 10-12 hour shifts, and studying...you lose yourself. Day in day out there is always someone reminding you that you may not match.
I spent the weekend in my pajamas cleaning out all my old clothes, things I didn't use anymore, trying to desperately use my physical environment as a way of grounding my mental head space. I took the time to gently trim the leaves and water my many spider plants. They aren't mad I forgot to water them, they love me just as I am.
Burnout looks different for everyone. The only commonality is you often don't know it until it's too late. Do not ignore the red flags, the warnings, the changes you see in yourself. Catch it early, because it is a nasty hole to fall into, and even more difficult to climb out.
It can start out so subtle, sneaking up like gas prices until one day you just can't. It starts out as just feeling "more tired" than usual, despite sleeping at least seven hours. Then, you slowly stop doing things. You justify it as "I'll treat myself to take out" when in reality you've exhausted the mental reserve required to make dinner. Scotch tape atop the cracks, trying to keep them from spreading. You stop studying, telling yourself you've done enough work for the day and deserve a break. Next, you find yourself overly annoyed waiting in line at the grocery, I mean how long does it take someone to get out their debit card really. You justify it as "oh what annoying people, how are they everywhere", while behind that your subconscious is screaming the mantra of "I can't do this anymore, I can't take anymore". You stop going to the gym and spending time with friends, justifying it as "I need me time" which although true, you don't want to even give people a chance to figure out that something is wrong. You don't even want to acknowledge the downward spiral you are on.
Sleep begins to intrude into wakefulness and wakefulness intrudes into sleep. You spend the entire day trying to stay awake, coffee after coffee, and lie in bed awake at night trying to silence your forever active brain. Stifle its cries for help. You find your eyes filling up with tears randomly throughout the day - quiet rides in the elevator, making your coffee in the cafeteria. You tell yourself it's from that difficult patient interaction you had the other day, but you know it's not.
Burnout looks like smiling faces, and kindness, all the while on the inside you are rolling your eyes as the 6th patient that enters your office cannot answer basic questions like "what brought you here today?", "what medications are you taking?", and "when did the trouble start?". You begin to wonder what you could possibly do for the 3rd patient in a row who denies having diabetes and refuses to take their medication, all the while begging you to fix their diabetic neuropathy. You begin to see your patients as inconveniences, frustrations, numbers, morons. Morons? I knew something had snapped inside me the moment that crossed my mind. Never in 4 years have I ever thought of my patients as anything less than remarkable. This is not what first year me would have wanted. But frantic residency applications on top of 10-12 hour shifts, and studying...you lose yourself. Day in day out there is always someone reminding you that you may not match.
I spent the weekend in my pajamas cleaning out all my old clothes, things I didn't use anymore, trying to desperately use my physical environment as a way of grounding my mental head space. I took the time to gently trim the leaves and water my many spider plants. They aren't mad I forgot to water them, they love me just as I am.
Burnout looks different for everyone. The only commonality is you often don't know it until it's too late. Do not ignore the red flags, the warnings, the changes you see in yourself. Catch it early, because it is a nasty hole to fall into, and even more difficult to climb out.
