Hear ye, hear ye: You shall all practice healthy life balance. #rollseyes

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Image: Buddha subduing mara (a demon that attempted to lure Buddha away from the path of enlightenment). Photo taken on a holiday in Bangkok, which, incidentally, didn’t cure my mental health issues.

“Healthy life balance”: those well worn words. We repeat them to struggling colleagues. We pronounce them as a cure-all to depressed patients. The words adorn powerpoints and manifestos on curing the mental health epidemic in medicine. Yet how helpful is it? Let’s ignore the fact that encouraging a healthy life balance is useless when the structure of medical training makes that almost impossible. Sure, a person might add a bit of exercise or a getaway here or there, but it’s never enough to achieve “well rounded human”. Rather, I would like to share my personal experience with the three words. Being obsessive and perfectionist (like many of us) I am very good at writing lists and ticking boxes. When I went to my GP or talked to my supervisors about my low mood, they would recommend exercise, taking a break – in other words, healthy life balance. “Do you even know who I am,” I would scoff. From high school I had been obsessed with my schedule. Monday morning – rpm class. Tuesday morning – swimming. Wednesday morning – sleep in etc. In my latter twenties I even became a yoga buff and I still endeavour to achieve “non-attachment” to my thoughts, feelings and negative judgments everyday with variable success. I faithfully scheduled in hobbies, social outings and chores, albeit infrequently (especially the chores). Yet, not only was I unhappy, I was anxious because I was a slave to my schedule!

Thankfully, I have worked with some wonderful psychologists and I like to think that age and reflection has made me wise, despite my lack of grey hairs! The key for me was not the physical feat of “healthy life balance.” Rather, it was the ability to recognize my feelings and their causes and address them. The acronym, H.A.L.T. (hungry, angry, lonely, tired), developed initially for alcoholics, has been useful. For instance, if I am feeling low I ask myself, am I hungry (or thirsty), angry, lonely or tired. If I identify that I am tired, I might sleep in the following morning instead of going to the gym. If I am lonely, I might chat to a friend or, at least, I will not despise myself for wasting an hour text-ranting and facebooking. Simple as this sounds, for me it still requires regular conscious effort. My obsessiveness meant that I trained myself to ignore my emotional needs in pursuit of the perfect balance. I had done this since I was a teenager, so I was barely conscious of my emotional needs, except as a persistent underlying misery. It is also a challenge to approach myself with kindness, rather than criticism and cycles of self hatred. Moreover, I have accepted that all the cognitive behavioral therapy in the world will not cure me of my negative cognitive style. In fact, despite popular expectation, cure should not be the goal. Rather, the ability to recognize excessive negativity, and then remind myself to be kind to myself and others is probably sufficient.

Thus, “encouraging” a healthy life balance was useless for me. Of course, my experience is not generalizable to all doctors. However, we are all highly educated individuals, who know what healthy life balance is. A little nudge might be useful now and then, but more often than not, when it is offered as a solution to genuine distress the proponent(s) appear patronizing and insensitive. We need to address the causes of distress first with loud voices and determination – don’t tell me to “HLB” when there aren’t enough staff to cover leave or ados! Don’t run token mindfulness or yoga sessions in the middle of the day, when we can’t come! And even when we achieve space for healthy life balance, don’t expect a struggling doctor to wake up the next day, cured. Recovery from mental illness is difficult and takes time. Patient listening and compassion is always better than offering easy solutions.

Girl with a negative cognitive style

It is hard for me to tell this story. A voice in me says, ‘no-one cares’, ‘what would you know anyway’ and ‘you have no right to enter this discussion.’ I am afraid of inciting personal criticism for my flaws and mistakes, of people recognizing me, of being exposed as a failure and blacklisted by potential employers. However, I am sharing my story because I think this is more important. I want to open up the dialogue to people who are struggling in silence, because arguably, these are the people we need to listen to if things are to change.

To introduce myself, I am a female doctor, who works in Sydney and did not grow up here. My social network consists entirely of associates and a few friends, who I see infrequently. There is no-one to whom I tell my secrets, except my psychologist. Through work with my psychologist, I have become conscious of how my negative cognitive style and negative core beliefs influence my experiences. I am also socially anxious and introverted. I struggle with confidence and am not a natural leader. So, stepping up to work as a registrar presented challenges in itself and these factors certainly coloured the experiences that follow.

I started as a registrar in 2015, as a green and optimistic PGY3. My first term was in a tertiary centre and went well. I hadn’t a clue what I was doing, but I felt supported. Second term I was seconded to a rural centre and the story was very different. Three days into the term, one of the trainees had to take time off due to family illness, throwing the roster into chaos. The roster changed five times during the 13 week term and in the end, one of the trainees ended up with mostly days, including a ridiculous number of weekends with no break, whilst I ended up with a disproportionate number of nights. I also worked a run of 11days, alternating 8am to 6pm and 8am to 8pm. Needless to say, I remember reaching shift 8 or 9 in an emotionally labile state. My response to a question about a catheter was bursting into tears! The consultants provided minimal support for us, very junior registrars. I remember one of the registrars was extremely stressed day two of the term, because he didn’t know what to do about a lady with a serious tachyarrhythmia, but his consultant provided no guidance!

Midway during the term, a nurse in the HDU had some difficulty inserting a nasogastric tube, so I tried to advance it further. The NG went through the patient’s diaphragm. Another weekend, a patient died on my shift due to delayed identification of hypoglycemia. Then, being tired after a night shift, I chose an unsatisfactory article for journal club. All in all, I really wasn’t a favorite. A particular consultant felt so anyway when he decided to call the intern for all communications, not me. Then when the intern broke down, I made the mistake of confronting him about it. As a result, he yelled at me and told the supervisor there were serious concerns about my competence, citing incidents above. This led to various meetings, discussing my lack of competence. Then, when I dared to take a patient to the HDU for high flow nasal prongs overnight, because I misinterpreted a multiply corrected advanced care directive I was shamed in front of the department for inappropriate management. The final straw – with a thirty patient list, I was struggling to teach my JMO prioritization skills and because of a delayed consult, another consultant started complaining about my competence. To my face I was told I needed to provide more supervision for my juniors. My end of term feedback was- if you don’t improve dramatically, you should seek a new career.

Shiftwork meant I barely saw the other registrars. I remember feeling very isolated out there, none of those fables where friendly consultants invite you to their homes for dinner or take you to see their farm. I coped, as always, by exercising, listening to audiobooks (particularly the Hitchhiker’s Guide), retail therapy and ranting at my friends over text. But I felt overwhelmed, hopeless and trapped. I didn’t see any future worth having, yet I didn’t want to burden my hard working parents with grief should I die. Instead I took 40x 25mg phenergen so I could sleep for a while and forget. When seeking help from my more senior registrar friends, they nodded knowingly; at least one term like this was to be expected. I didn’t seek help from the program director till quite late in the term. I didn’t trust them and I was ashamed, and when I did, I received no substantive support. Since there was less than a week left, it seemed, there wasn’t much use looking into it, though it took me several months to recover any confidence in my abilities, much longer to recover any self worth and the perpetrators went on to bully many another trainee. In fact, now the main bully has been promoted to director of education at the rural site, despite several complaints, and people wonder why we are cynical and silent? To be fair, the supervisors from my home hospital were kind people, who were more overworked, burnt out and exhausted than me and that is probably a large part of the problem.

Anyway, I managed to get through the following terms through the kindness and patience of my amazing colleagues and consultants back home. I went through several psychologists before finding one I gelled with (and one with flexible appointment times). Through her, I had someone to talk to, to help to process my experiences. I learnt to express myself through painting and writing. I reawakened old hobbies. Further challenges awaited me in the following year. Bullying. Exam stress. Burn out. I still struggle to get up everyday, to see a future, but I am learning to question my pervasive negativity and to seek opportunities, despite potential failure. I hope by sharing this story I am able to help somebody who is feeling alone and unsupported. I also hope that by inspiring others to do the same, we might encourage those in power to embrace the multiplicity of reasons why suicide happens (individual, systematic) instead of looking to a list of two to three tick box solutions before moving on – good, good, got rid of that mandatory reporting, put an exercise program in place etc. Perhaps that way, THIS time, we may achieve change.