It’s hard to be open and kind when someone rants at you and tells you you’re useless. Here’s a way that it can become a learning experience, and even a gift. 

How the pain of criticism can wake you up

In 2007, I was working at small animal practice (as a veterinarian) in Cape Town. I’ve always been a professional wild child – in a city where everyone who can afford it has alarms, burglar bars, and high fences, we didn’t even have a door key. I lived in the richest suburb of the Cape Peninsula in an old mansion, Mount Prospect Farm. It was gorgeous.

It was also a 45-minute drive away from my practice. 

Trying to make vet med work

I’d been in therapy for about a year at the time. My homeopath/therapist said:

Don’t try to work for your career.

You have to make your career work for you.

Dr. Michael Bloch

I was doing all I could to make veterinary medicine work for me. One decision I made was that people could use the ER rooms on weekends and at night. I had come to hate my phone and desperately needed the time off to recuperate. I skipped town every weekend, rock climbing and hiking.

This particular weekend, I caught some messages on my phone from a client as I was heading out. I decided that I wouldn’t even look at them – they could wait until Monday. I was maintaining boundaries and refusing to worry about a patient until I was back at work. Nevertheless, the awareness of her request to be in contact was with me all weekend. It made me restless, irritated and feeling slightly guilty.

Being attacked

On Monday morning, the client stormed into the clinic. As I came out of the consulting room she proceeded to rant at the top of her voice. She screamed that her dog had been in intensive care all weekend long and it was all my fault. They still didn’t know if the dog was going to live or die. She said I’d given wrong advice, and that I wasn’t fit to be a vet.

I behaved exemplary. 

I asked her to step into my office. I moved her to the other side of the treatment table. I heard her out and mirrored her back. I acknowledged her anger and fear, saying I’m so sorry this happened. I promised to call the ER rooms and liaise with the doctor the moment I was done with morning appointments. I told her that I needed the time off on weekends and didn’t check my phone. 

She said she’d never come back to see me again, and I said, of course, I understand. And I thought: Good riddance. 

I’m right, and she’s out of line.

I felt I’d been in the right. The supposed wrong advice turned out to be non-compliance and misunderstood directions. It was all in the records, all fine. The dog lived. I had responded “well”.

Yet for years, the situation rankled and hurt. My mind turned in the same old circles every time I remembered. “How dare she? She was out of control! I’m so glad I never had to see her again! She’s one of those clients. Why me? It’s not my job to be her ‘emotional support vet’. She’s got no leg to stand on, saying I’m not fit to be a vet! What does she know?”

As a result, I became hyper-alert with ‘this kind of client’. Someone who wants to be ‘a friend’, wants me to acknowledge how important her animal is, how clever, how wonderful – I’d turn professional and cold. Not ever again. 

Even though I could find ample reasons why she was out of line and I was right, I couldn’t move past her accusations.

Until I found the Work. 

A way to understand the lessons

The Work of Byron Katie is a way to question our thinking about others and find out what is true for ourselves. It’s a process that holds you safe while you investigate the painful memories. Answering four questions, you can allow yourself to relive the experience. You can investigate your thinking, emotions, sensations, and body language. You get to see how these thoughts impact your whole life. You get to question their validity. In this, you learn about yourself. 

Challenging careers offer many opportunities to stretch

Every situation in our life incorporates lessons to be learned. When we are comfortable with where we are at, we don’t learn much new. Learning happens when we stretch out of comfort. Veterinary medicine – and indeed any challenging career – offers many opportunities to stretch. 

When we don’t ‘get’ the lesson, the experiences stay like a crown of thorns, digging deeper and creating more and more stress over time. Eventually, your comfort zone dwindles to nothing, leaving you burned out and depleted. 

The Work helps you make sense of these often painful lessons so that you can let them go; so that you can move on, with more intelligence, more wisdom, and more kindness for yourself and others. The beauty of the Work is that you can do the process by yourself. Until such a day as you are ready, you don’t need to expose your ‘failures’ to anyone but yourself.

She’s wrong to say that I’m not fit to be a vet

Once I knew the Work, I used it to question that old situation. I allowed myself to remember all the nuances of what I had felt, thought, said, and did. I found the ways that I’d been right, but more importantly, I found the ways that she had been right. The reason this still hurt years later was that I refused to look at my self-doubts and shortcomings. 

I found that she had been right in saying that I hadn’t been fit to be a vet that weekend. It was true in these ways:

• I hated having to even think about my phone.
• I didn’t have enough compassionate energy left to even look at the messages, never mind texting back and acknowledging her fear.
• Even if I’d been at the clinic, the depth of testing and treatment that had been needed would have been beyond my equipment and knowledge. 

This didn’t make me ‘wrong’ – but it stopped making her wrong.

I inquired into every judgment I held on her.

In the end, I not only felt in alignment with her, but I also felt grateful to her for showing me these things. She taught me how to hear criticism with an open heart. She taught me how to agree and learn, and not be driven into panic, refusal, denial, and burnout. 

She taught me how to acknowledge a client without needing to comply with their wishes. She also taught me to not look at my phone when I need rest. She taught me that it was my own guilt and resentment that drained my energy and impaired my ability to relax.

I never saw her again – Cape Town is a large city. If I did, I would be able to thank her for shouting at me. I would be able to tell her that she had been right, and that shouting at me had been a gift. I could tell her that I was truly sorry that I hadn’t been able to be there for her that weekend. That horrible situation ended up being one of the many gifts of veterinary medicine in my life. 

The end of compassion fatigue and burnout

Using the Work to inquire into my judgments was the end of compassion fatigue and burnout in my life. It didn’t happen overnight, of course, but over some years. It was the end of feeling stressed, period. The questions of the Work reveal my own power and wisdom in my life. They leave me confident in my abilities, clear on my shortcomings, and open to learning. As I learn to open myself, my clients become nicer and nicer. 

If you’re a vet and want to learn the Work, volunteer for 3 sessions to be used as part of my new book. You’ll get an introduction, facilitation in Inquiry on a situation of your choice, and a Q&A session to tie up loose ends. I’ve published my first book on the Work in 2020. This new book is about the use of inquiry to prevent burnout in veterinary medicine. If I use our material, your name and identity can be omitted.

If you are interested, dm me, text me or email me. 

If you want to create more space in your life as a vet, you can download my free guide on how to be more zen in vet med in less than 5 minutes a day here. 

Join my Facebook group Zen Vet Med for a steady stream of resources!