While shopping at the supermarket, I unexpectedly encountered a receptionist from the medical practice where I worked before experiencing burnout. We enjoyed a pleasant conversation amid the grocery aisles, and during our chat, she mentioned several times how much I adored being a general practitioner.
‘Claire, you absolutely love your job,’ she said warmly.
‘I know just how passionate you were about it,’ she added with a smile.
I responded with a polite smile and nod, but inside, I felt a sudden chill of realization.
The truth is, I no longer love that job.
There—I’ve finally admitted it out loud.
The pre-burnout version of myself would have been devastated by this acknowledgment. Coming to terms with this shift has involved navigating intense waves of emotional pain, deep-seated guilt, internalized shame, and profound sadness.
From the perspective of the receptionist I bumped into, her comments were entirely logical. She only knew the version of me from before burnout struck, with no knowledge of the events that unfolded afterward. She had no clue that the very role I once thrived in had caused me significant harm.
In an era marked by economic instability and widespread uncertainty, I recognize my good fortune in holding a position that offers a solid salary and stable employment. I fully appreciate the substantial privilege associated with being a physician in today’s world.
However, do I truly wish to persist in a career that, since my burnout, I can only manage in limited doses? Do I want to continue in a role that feels overwhelmingly challenging amid current shortages of resources and escalating patient demands? What occurs when the passion for your work completely fades? These are critical questions that both pre-burnout and post-burnout individuals must grapple with during these challenging periods.
It’s essential for everyone to maintain realistic expectations regarding what our professional lives can provide. I firmly believe it’s perfectly acceptable not to be passionately in love with your job. As long as it covers your essential expenses and supports the lifestyle you desire, it doesn’t need to ignite your spirit every day. If your work does energize you and sparks deep passion, that’s wonderful—but such intensity isn’t always feasible or sustainable. Particularly in vocations like medicine, most professionals enter their fields fully aware of the commitments involved, understanding that difficulties are part of the package. We often cling to the hope that the inherent rewards of a calling will help us endure the tough moments. Challenges can be navigated if they come in manageable portions, provided they are counterbalanced by periods of ease and genuine enjoyment. The real issue arises when the job begins to cause ongoing, unrelenting, and irreversible damage to your well-being, yet it’s incredibly hard to accept this reality if you once cherished the work deeply.
Much like long-term personal relationships that can deteriorate and eventually end, it’s sometimes necessary—and okay—to let go of a job that no longer serves you.
This breakdown isn’t necessarily a reflection of your shortcomings.
You’ve likely invested tremendous effort into making it viable for yourself.
Yet, if the struggle yields minimal returns, it may be time to explore alternative paths for living and working.
You deserve a psychologically safe environment at work as the absolute baseline, and if your current role fails to deliver that, consider this your encouragement to seek fulfillment in other arenas. Your skills and expertise are highly transferable, opening doors across various industries. No matter your field, your professional journey will span many years. As a doctor, I’m acutely aware that life is far too brief to endure constant misery. Ultimately, our jobs are just jobs—they should never come at the expense of your mental health. Full stop.
Personally, I’m now embarking on a thrilling new career path that builds directly on the 15 years of rigorous training and clinical experience I’ve accumulated. The emotions mirror those from my medical school days: excitement mixed with a touch of apprehension, full awareness of the intense effort ahead, yet propelled forward by genuine passion and a clear sense of purpose. Even when the affection for a damaging job has vanished, it’s entirely possible to rediscover that spark in a different direction.
