I Take Better Care of My Patients Than I Do Myself

You remind your patients to eat well, stay hydrated, and get enough rest.
You urge them to manage their stress, prioritize mental health, follow prescriptions, avoid smoking, and take time off when needed.
You listen attentively, care deeply, and advocate relentlessly.

But when it comes to your own life?

You skip meals.
You function on minimal sleep.
You convince yourself you're okay when you're not.
And your own wellbeing? Often an afterthought—if it even makes the list.

Because here’s a truth most physicians avoid saying out loud:
We take better care of our patients than we do ourselves.

1. The Great Irony of Medicine
We’re trained to treat, soothe, diagnose, and restore.
But that same system also teaches us:

• To suppress personal needs
  
  
• To view vulnerability as weakness
  
  
• To push through pain until it’s unbearable
  
  
• To equate value with endurance

We preach balance, but live in contradiction.
We counsel compassion, but rarely direct it inward.

2. How It Starts: The Culture of Sacrifice
From day one of medical training, the expectations are etched in stone:

• Sleep is a luxury
  
  
• Meals are rushed or skipped
  
  
• Personal life is postponed indefinitely
  
  
• Feelings are distractions, not data

Tired? Push through.
Struggling? Stay silent.
Sick? Keep working—patients come first.

It becomes so normalized that neglecting ourselves feels routine. Even virtuous.

3. Common Ways Doctors Neglect Themselves (While Advising Others)

• Advising stress management while skimming emails during a rushed lunch
  
  
• Recommending therapy while ignoring signs of your own burnout
  
  
• Telling others to exercise while you can’t recall your last gym visit
  
  
• Managing hypertension while surviving on vending machine snacks
  
  
• Discussing sleep hygiene while battling your third night shift in a row

We cite best practices in the clinic.
But live chaotic, imbalanced lives behind the curtain.

4. Why We Ignore Our Own Health
a. Time Scarcity
There’s always another chart to finish, another patient to check, another task to complete.

b. Emotional Depletion
After pouring so much into others, there’s nothing left for yourself.

c. Shame and Stigma
Medicine teaches us to be invulnerable. "Doctors don’t break" becomes a silent mantra.

d. Fear of Judgment
Being the “unwell doctor” feels professionally dangerous, even humiliating.

e. Loss of Self
So much of our identity is bound to caring for others that pausing for ourselves feels selfish—or weak.

5. The Hidden Toll of Neglecting Ourselves
The effects accumulate slowly, quietly, and dangerously. They present as:

• Irritability
  
  
• Compassion fatigue
  
  
• Detachment and numbness
  
  
• Chronic fatigue masked as resilience
  
  
• Physical symptoms brushed off as “just tired”
  
  
• Missed warning signs in our own health
  
  
• Declining mental health masked by professional performance

You start to question why life feels empty.
You miss who you were before self-neglect became a professional norm.

6. What We Tell Our Patients (But Forget Ourselves)
We often say:

• “You can’t pour from an empty cup.”
  
  
• “Your body is communicating with you—listen.”
  
  
• “Rest is not indulgence; it’s part of healing.”
  
  
• “If you don’t make time for wellness, you’ll be forced to make time for illness.”

But we don’t say it to ourselves.
We grant compassion to patients.
We assign guilt to ourselves.

7. What It Feels Like to Finally Stop and Look Inward
On those rare moments—perhaps on a brief vacation or during mandatory leave—you realize:

• You can’t remember the last time you truly laughed
  
  
• You’re surrounded by people but feel emotionally isolated
  
  
• You’re proud of your work, yet personally exhausted
  
  
• You’re a crisis expert, but emotionally avoidant

And then it hits you:
You know how to save lives.
But somewhere along the way, you forgot how to live yours.

8. Why We Must Begin to Care for Ourselves
Because if we don’t:

• We risk total burnout and leaving medicine
  
  
• We become hardened, bitter, and robotic
  
  
• We lose the empathy that made us healers
  
  
• We model dysfunction to students and peers
  
  
• We deteriorate slowly in ways no one sees—not even ourselves

Caring for yourself isn't selfish.
It's not a luxury.
It's essential. It’s clinical survival.

9. Steps to Reclaim Your Own Wellbeing
a. Set Boundaries—and Mean It
Stop celebrating the 14-hour day.
End your shift.
Protect your time like you would protect a critically ill patient.

b. Normalize Mental Health and Sick Days
You’re not invincible. You’re allowed to rest, to heal, to pause.

c. Schedule Joy, Not Just Work
Plan things that spark joy outside of medicine. Let hobbies exist. Let them matter.

d. Seek Support—Therapy, Mentorship, or Peer Groups
You don’t need to be “broken” to benefit from therapy. You just need to be carrying too much.

e. Stop Apologizing for Being Human
Your humanity is not a flaw.
It is your strength.

10. Final Thoughts: You Deserve the Care You Give
You’re a problem-solver, a decision-maker, a life-saver.
But at your core, you’re a human being.

Your value doesn’t stem from self-denial.
Your worth isn’t tallied by shifts endured or sleep lost.

You are not weak for needing rest.
You are not lesser for needing help.
You are not unworthy for feeling overwhelmed.

So the next time you tell a patient to take care of themselves, stop and ask:
Have I done that for myself today?
Maybe it’s time to treat yourself like someone truly worth healing.