Burnout Almost Broke Me—IndeVets Helped Me Heal

I’m exhausted.
I can’t sleep.
I jump at noises.
I snap at little things.
I make excuses to avoid people.
I can’t focus.
I don’t have energy to do anything.
I hurt.
I dread going to work.
I regret this career.
I can’t do this anymore.
I don’t know how to do anything else.
I’m stuck.

This is what burnout looked like for me—and I’d guess some of these feelings may sound all too familiar to you.

The Dream That Became a Burden

To become a veterinarian, I invested a significant amount of time and money into a program that many only dream of attending. I still remember the moment I received my first veterinary school acceptance email—officially joining the Class of 2015. I’m not usually one to show big emotions, but that day, I clapped, jumped off the couch, and ran to find my husband so I could leap into his arms.

Vet school was intense and exhausting, but I loved it—especially my final year in clinical rotations. That’s when everything came together: I was finally applying my knowledge to real animals, helping real people who loved them. I had found my calling.

So imagine my disappointment, shame and feeling of failure turning this amazing gift and accomplishment into the list of complaints above.

I kept thinking: Don’t you realize how lucky you are? Shouldn’t you be grateful?

I told myself this over and over, but it only deepened the shame. Instead of feeling fortunate, I felt unworthy. I started to believe I didn’t deserve the life I’d worked so hard for—that something must be wrong with me for resenting a career so many others dream of.

The Slow Burn

Looking back, I can see it clearly: I was completely burned out. I know now it wasn’t my fault—and it didn’t mean I was a failure. But in the moment, all I knew was that I dreaded going to work so much. Even my weekends lost their joy, Monday was always looming.

I was moody, irritable, and withdrawn—both at work and at home. I could just barely muster a smile for my clients, leaving me with nothing left for my coworkers or family. Every morning, as I drove that familiar route, my heart would race, my stomach would churn, my whole body would tense up. I was trapped – this wasn’t at all what I had envisioned.

And while I never seriously considered taking my life, I had days when I thought a serious illness or injury would have been a welcome alternative to work.

Looking back—just a year removed from that low point—I now see it wasn’t my first experience with burnout.

I spent four years at my first job as a veterinarian. It was a clinic I once imagined owning, but over time it became a grind: too many late nights wrapping up cases, too many weekends on call, too little balance. I feared that I wasn’t cut out for veterinary medicine. I was overwhelmed by the workload and felt powerless to change it—but I still had years of student loan payments ahead, the size of a mortgage. At the time, I called it burnout because that was the buzzword in the industry. But I didn’t truly understand what was fueling it—or how to build the resilience I’d need to move forward.

My second job was short-lived. It was a tiny practice, and when COVID hit in 2020, I was let go—my boss feared she couldn’t afford to keep a second doctor. There was a lot of panic in those days.

Rock Bottom in a Role That Once Felt Like Home

So when I landed my next job just a few weeks later, I felt incredibly thankful. This clinic was special to me: I had grown up there as the daughter of a veterinarian, worked as a kennel assistant during my teenage years, and some of the staff still remembered me as a kid. One of the vets had even mentored me years earlier. It felt like a full-circle moment—a homecoming.

It didn’t take long for me to feel disillusioned again.

I accepted a promotion to medical director, hoping to create positive change—for the patients, the clients, and the team. But instead, it only compounded my frustration. I was still seeing patients full-time, while also spending long hours trying to fix operational inefficiencies and address deep-rooted culture issues. I became the emotional catch-all for complaints from—and about—the six other doctors. And in this corporate clinic, “being a leader and team player” often meant defending tone-deaf policies and making excuses for broken promises.

After two years of carrying that extra weight, the exhaustion and pessimism caught up with me. One day, I lost my cool at my practice manager. Thankfully, she saw through the outburst—she knew it wasn’t about her. With compassion and insight, she immediately pulled some responsibilities off my plate and I took a month to formally step down as medical director.

I’ll always be grateful for her response. It was the first time in a long while that I could finally take a breath.

Though I remained a full-time associate, that small shift gave me just enough mental space to acknowledge how unhappy I was—and to begin exploring the possibility of a different path.

Finding a Lifeline with IndeVets

Around that time, I remembered an email I’d received months earlier from IndeVets. I dug through my inbox and started reading more about them—I was immediately intrigued.

Their mission was to transform veterinary medicine by putting mental health and well-being at the center of everything they do. I was hooked.

I showed the email to my husband and said, “It’s like they’re writing about me.” After nearly a decade as a small animal GP, I knew I needed a change.

Understanding Burnout to Heal From It

To reflect on how this career transition changed my life, the diagnostician in me knows it’s important to have a true understanding of the definition and drivers of burnout – not just the buzzword I used leaving my first job.

When I joined IndeVets, I took the medical-personnel version of a survey called the Maslach Burnout Inventory (MBI), a well-established tool for quantifying burnout. The World Health Organization defines burnout as a “workplace phenomenon,” not a medical diagnosis, so the focus is on mental health specifically in relation to one’s job.

That was the first big shift in my thinking: burnout wasn’t about me—it was about where, and how, I was working.

The MBI assesses three core symptoms of burnout—exhaustion, cynicism, and reduced personal accomplishment—in the context of six key areas of worklife: workload, control, reward, community, fairness, and values. It identifies mismatches between a person’s needs and what their job environment provides.

My results? High exhaustion. High cynicism. Moderate personal accomplishment. And significant mismatches in five of the six areas. It was textbook burnout.

While this may not sound like good news, my results gave me hope.

They validated something I had started to suspect: maybe I wasn’t the problem. Maybe I could enjoy this work again—if I just found a better fit. Maybe I wasn’t broken after all.

What Recovery Looks Like

Even before my first shift, joining IndeVets felt like a breath of fresh air.

I got to choose my schedule—what days I wanted to work, how far I was willing to drive, and what kind of shifts I preferred. My onboarding team was kind, communicative, and genuinely happy to help me.

Wellness and support were woven into every part of the organization—from employing a Veterinary Social Worker to building in true flexibility for doctors.

I’ll admit I was still skeptical. After years of hearing empty promises about “prioritizing mental health,” I had learned to keep my guard up. But everywhere I looked, this company was actually doing it—treating veterinarians like humans.

After six months with IndeVets, I repeated the MBI survey —and the results were dramatically different.

I showed marked improvement in all three core areas: less exhaustion, less cynicism, and a renewed sense of accomplishment. Even more encouraging, I now had a “good fit” in five of the six key work life areas—with the sixth rated as “average.” (There’s always room to grow.)

According to the MBI, this pattern indicates engagement. So what does engagement look like for me?

1. Workload: I often choose to work more than the minimum required hours—but I also regularly block out weekdays to rest, recharge, pursue continuing education, tend to my own health, or cheer on my nieces at their softball games.
2. Control: I select my own shifts, giving me the flexibility to return to hospitals where I feel most aligned with the medical approach and team culture.
3. Reward: When I stay late to accommodate extra appointments, finish documentation, or return client calls, I’m compensated for that time. My extra effort is recognized—and valued.
4. Community: I stay connected with fellow IndeVets and HQ teammates through webinars, email, Teams chats, and occasional in-person meetups. There’s a real sense of belonging.
5. Fairness: Organizational decisions are made transparently, with space for employee feedback and respect for differing perspectives.
6. Values: I’m practicing medicine in a way that feels right to me. Working across a range of hospitals has helped me identify what truly matters to me in both clinical care and workplace culture.

Full Circle—Finding Myself Again

Like most people in care-taking careers, my identity is closely tied to my profession. So when I burned out, it didn’t just affect my job—it impacted my entire life: my relationships, my sense of self, my humanity.

Recovering from burnout has changed me in all the best ways. I’m more outgoing, more gracious, and more present. I’m a better wife, friend, daughter, and aunt. I no longer walk through life as a raw nerve, constantly stuck in survival mode.

I’m easier to live with, more fun to be around, and a more grounded teammate. For the first time in a decade—since vet school—I feel like myself again. I feel human.

I have a clearer sense of who I am as a veterinarian—and that clarity has made me a more confident, dedicated clinician.

Of course, the work is still hard. There are still days when I’m overbooked, understaffed, and overwhelmed. It’s never easy to move from end-of-life consults to new puppy exams to discussions about the financial realities of care. And yes—my back still aches after a long day bent over dogs in a middle-aged body.

But now, I enjoy it. And I know I’m good at it.

I’ve found my calling again.