If you are reluctant to ask the way, you will be lost. 

Malay proverb

When I was struggling with burnout during training, I did not seek help.

Even when called into the office of the revered, stately, totally intimidating Chair of the department, because he’d “heard I was having trouble coping.”

Nope. I saw that as a sign that I needed to do a better job of hiding my lack of coping.

When I contemplated leaving clinical practice a few years later, I did not seek help. No mentor, coach, or understanding colleague. I figured there was no helping me, that finding a path to a career that didn’t consume one’s personal life might be possible for others, but not for me. I was reluctant to ask the way.

I love the work I do today and don’t regret the journey, but I believe my clinical career could have been saved if I had asked the way.

Why are we so adverse to help in medicine? When do we acquire the belief that we can’t show any needs, that only our patients can be vulnerable that way? And, whatever the cause, how do we dismantle this limiting belief?

These questions have always been important, and they are even more important today, when physicians in droves are cutting back on their clinical hours, leaving for nonclinical careers, and retiring early.

I am certain that a large portion of those making the choice to cut back or leave would stay if they were able to access strategic, targeted, compassionate help. I’ve seen that turn-around happen for my clients over and over again.

When I say “help,” I’m not talking about handholding or “resilience” training. I’m talking about tactical support to implement effective changes in how they think, approach work, separate from work, prioritize their time, and communicate with patients, coworkers, and leaders.

People who become physicians have many strengths, including being detail-oriented, altruistic, persevering, capable of self-sacrifice, and willing to delay gratification for long periods of time. These strengths are rewarded in training and by employers. But they hold within them the seeds of our destruction, because they ask us to be superhuman, never revealing our needs, including our need for occasional help and direction.

If this sounds familiar, don’t cut back or leave clinical practice until you’ve accessed whatever help you need to find the places where you have the power to do things differently. You won’t regret it. 

 Ping me if you’d like some ideas on how.