Four Hard-Earned Lessons for Preventing Burnout in Vet Med

Veterinary medicine has a way of becoming all-consuming. The doctor title has been your dream for years and required a serious uphill slog to get there, and by all means take time to flex what you’ve earned. 

Burnout is a real (and preventable) risk for veterinarians new and old

If you’re a veterinary student or early-career veterinarian, burnout probably isn’t a distant concept. It’s discussed openly now in CE and vet school lectures, wellness panels, social media posts, and orientation sessions.

It’s discussed privately in psychotherapy sessions as well. In my opinion, it’s the tip of the mental health crisis iceberg many of us in the profession are unwittingly steered towards. 

True, the profession has become much better at talking about burnout. What we still struggle with is giving clear, practical guidance on how to prevent it in real life.

Burnout does not happen because veterinarians are weak, unmotivated, or insufficiently resilient. Quite the opposite, in fact. It happens because intelligent, driven people enter a profession that constantly asks for (and expects) more emotional labor, availability, and personal sacrifice than most humans can sustainably give.

Over time, that mismatch takes a toll. And if you’ve experienced its insidious stranglehold as many of my colleagues have, you know it’s an affliction best avoided. 

The following four recommendations are not theoretical. They are lessons I’ve learned and put into practice, and they are offered with the hope of helping you build a long, meaningful career without losing yourself in the process.

1. Build an identity that exists outside of veterinary medicine

Veterinary medicine has a way of becoming all-consuming. The doctor title has been your dream for years and required a serious uphill slog to get there, and by all means take time to flex what you’ve earned. 

But keep in mind that from the moment you’re accepted into vet school, your life begins to orbit around this identity. You are rightfully  praised for your grit, your sacrifice, your passion for animals, and your willingness to put the profession first. At first, it feels like you’ve attained a lifetime goal (and you have). But slowly, subtly, your sense of worth becomes tied to being “the vet.”

That’s a dangerous setup.

When your entire identity is wrapped up in your job title, every tough case, difficult client interaction, or medical outcome feels personal. Criticism hits harder. Mistakes linger longer. And when work goes poorly—as it inevitably will—there’s nowhere else to anchor your sense of value or escape and recharge. 

I’ve seen this in many of my colleagues near (or in some cases way past) retirement age. They're afraid to navigate in a world that no longer sees them as the authority and veterinarian, because that’s all they’ve ever done or enjoyed. There, I said it. 

You need passions and interests that have nothing to do with veterinary medicine. Not hobbies chosen for productivity or prestige, but pursuits that remind you that you are a whole person first and a veterinarian second. For me, it’s time spent in the field with my bird dogs and a camera or a fly rod. But you do you. Whether that’s athletics, art, music, time outdoors, community involvement, or simply being present with people you love, those outlets matter far more than you think.

Having a life outside of work doesn’t make you less committed to the profession. It makes you more resilient within it. Veterinary medicine should be something you do, not the only thing you are. And when the job gets tough (and it will), you need a reprieve that’s all your own. 

2. Practice the standard of medicine you believe in

One of the most common drivers of burnout I see is not workload alone, but morale and professional misalignment. When you are repeatedly asked to practice medicine in ways that conflict with your values, whether that’s rushing through appointments, cutting diagnostic corners, prioritizing production over patient care, or navigating ethical gray areas without support, it creates chronic stress. Shit bosses and shoddy clinics will do this to you, ask me how I know. 

Early in your career, it’s easy to assume this discomfort is just part of being new. After all, you’re no longer in the ivory tower of academia where every case gets a full diagnostic smorgasbord of rads and blood work. But listen to your gut when it tells you the type of medicine practiced around you or expected of you is out of alignment with your beliefs.  That’s your internal compass suggesting that something isn’t right.

You owe it to yourself to define what good medicine looks like to you. That includes how you communicate with clients, how much time you need for cases, how you handle uncertainty, and what compromises you are willing to accept. Not every clinic will align perfectly with your vision, and that’s okay, but keep grinding towards that ideal. Quality practices will look to new graduates for inspiration and fresh ideas, not try to cram you in a mold of profiteering or throwing pred at everything. 

This may mean walking away from a job that looks good on paper. It may mean advocating for changes within a practice. It may mean moving to a place that’s not in your top 5. It may mean acknowledging that no workplace is perfect, but that there are environments where you can practice medicine with integrity.

Burnout thrives, in part, when you repeatedly violate your own professional values. Alignment won’t eliminate stress, but misalignment will quietly drain you over time.

3. Take all of your PTO—and stop feeling guilty about it

Paid time off is not a suggestion. It is not a reward for exceptional performance. It is part of your compensation, and it exists for a reason. To show you how much our profession has valued personal time over the years, my first associate position offered ZERO vacation for the first year along with a pile of emergency call. It took near mutiny among the pool of new vets there to change that stagnant and antiquated mindset among the owners, but I assure you it’s still out there. 

And yet, veterinarians are notorious for not using PTO, even when they have it. 

We worry about burdening colleagues, disrupting schedules, or appearing less dedicated. We think our patients can’t survive without us, and we have some clients that are masters at convincing us this is so. 

Some of us fall for the trap of telling ourselves we’ll take time off “later,” once things slow down. The problem is that things rarely slow down on their own without completely walking away from the workload. 

Veterinary medicine is emotionally and cognitively demanding work. It requires sustained focus, empathy, and decision-making under pressure. Those resources are finite. If you don’t intentionally rest and recharge, burnout will eventually force the issue, often in far more disruptive ways.

Schedule your PTO. Protect it. Take it fully. Do not apologize for needing rest. The fact that the burden of your absence falls heavily on your colleagues is not your fault, it’s simply shedding light on workflow weaknesses in your practice. Time away from work does not mean you care less, rather it means you understand the demands of the profession and respect your limits. 

A rested veterinarian is not a liability to a practice. They are safer, more thoughtful, and more sustainable. Protect your investment. 

4. Guard your personal phone number and set firm boundaries around free advice

One of the fastest ways burnout sneaks up on young veterinarians is through constant, unstructured accessibility. Text messages after hours. DMs on social media asking for medical advice. Friends-of-friends, pseudo-friends, and frienemies wanting “just a quick opinion.” 

Now, I can count the number of clients with my number on one hand, but it hasn’t always been that way. 

It feels kind and empowering to respond, especially when you hit the workforce full of enthusiasm and your brain bursting with knowledge. At first it feels helpful, but over time it becomes exhausting.

You are not obligated to be on call to everyone who knows you’re a veterinarian. You are not required to diagnose animals you’ve never examined. And you are certainly not responsible for managing medical concerns without context, compensation, or legal protection. In fact, I’d now argue at this point in my career that it’s self-disrespecting to fail to set these boundaries in your life.

Please, learn from my mistakes and guard your personal cell phone number. Keep work communication on work channels. Be deliberate about how (and whether) you engage with medical questions on social media (don’t, or better yet, ask them to make an appointment). The Chat with a Vet program we built at Hunt.Vet was designed as a way to manage these inquiries. 

Be certain of this: these boundaries are not about being cold or uncaring. They are about preserving your energy, your focus, and your longevity in the profession. Those seeking free advice will go elsewhere, I promise. Sure, a few will slip through (as they do in my life still), but being available around the clock to share your skills and knowledge with the world is not part of your oath. 

As I’ve learned the hard way, being constantly available does not make you a better veterinarian. It makes you a tired one.

Playing the long game

Veterinary medicine needs good doctors who stay, not just for a few intense years, but for decades. Burnout prevention isn’t about finding relief in memes or motivational slogans. It’s about building a career that respects your humanity as much as your skill set.

You worked hard to earn your place in this profession. Protect your time, your values, and your identity. A sustainable career isn’t selfish, it’s essential.