As a people pleaser in a helping profession, I’ve learned that boundaries save lives. As veterinarians, we’re constantly asked to give more—our time, energy, compassion, and skills. Yet, the world will never be fully satisfied with our contributions. This is a tough lesson, especially for new graduates already facing a steep learning curve.
How do I unblock a cat? How do I explain Cushing’s disease in layman’s terms? How do I contribute without taking on too much? How do I learn new skills while still managing to take a lunch break? The demands are endless, so knowing your limits and communicating them is crucial. Setting boundaries ensures that we don’t overextend ourselves, allowing us to provide the best care to our patients and sustain ourselves in this demanding profession.
Why Boundaries Matter
Boundaries are a hot topic, and for good reason—most of us were never taught how to set or maintain them, and many struggle to know when they’re realistic. But what exactly is a boundary? Melissa Urban, in her Book of Boundaries, defines it as “the limits of behaviors that are acceptable to you, where words or actions beyond that limit cause you harm or make you feel unsafe.” Boundaries aren’t about controlling others; they’re about managing your response to others.
So, how does this relate to being a veterinarian? In this article, I’ll share examples from my first five years in practice to illustrate how setting boundaries can benefit you. Being a veterinarian is tough—some days, you feel like you’ve made a real difference, and other days… you just want to crawl into a hole.
We often talk about work-life balance, but in a profession that demands your heart and soul, it’s even more crucial. My goal is to make veterinary medicine sustainable for me over the long haul. The key? Boundaries. It’s about knowing your limits and being confident enough to uphold them. Whether it’s bosses, clients, or coworkers, everyone will want a piece of you—but only you can decide how much you’re willing to give.
The Cost of Ignoring Boundaries
My first two years as a veterinarian at a mismanaged clinic during the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic provided me with countless examples of what happens when boundaries are not set. Combine an eager, people-pleasing attitude with a dash of perfectionism, and throw in the fact that no ER was open during the day, and you get a stressed-out, overwhelmed new vet. I routinely worked 14- to 16-hour days, squeezing emergencies in between annual exams. My “rewards” after these grueling days were a basket of cheesy fries and a glass of wine—anything to turn my brain off and get as much sleep as possible before it all started again a few hours later.
Our clinic’s turnover rate was four times the industry standard, and in an attempt to bring some order to the chaos, I spent unpaid hours establishing a Wellness Committee to create a more livable environment for my staff. While I may have helped a lot of patients and learned a ton, that pace was unsustainable. I knew it wasn’t okay, but I didn’t know how things could be different. Ultimately, I decided to prioritize myself and move on. Now, I’m at a clinic that doesn’t pressure me to overproduce, has a great support staff team, sets realistic expectations for clients, and allows me to have a lunch break and leave on time (most days). The combination of supportive management, positive clinic culture, and teaching people how to treat you can result in the sustainable veterinary career we’re all searching for.
Setting Boundaries with Employers
When job hunting, you have the advantage of being choosy. Identify your non-negotiables and stick to them. For instance, I insist on electronic records; if a clinic uses paper records, I move on, no matter how attractive the other aspects are.
Once you select a clinic, negotiations begin. It’s about knowing your worth, negotiating confidently, and knowing when to walk away. I once felt disrespected during contract negotiations—my reasonable requests for licensing and CE funds were met with a low offer and dismissive comments. Despite having just moved states with the expectation of working at this clinic, I felt strongly that if this was how I was treated as a potential associate, it wouldn’t improve once real issues arose. Despite having moved states expecting to work there, I decided not to accept the contract. It was a tough decision, but it led me to a much better fit.
Regarding mentorship, ensure clear expectations. In my first clinic, I had an agreement with the medical director to share on-call shifts and be available for support. However, during my first after-hours emergency, when I called him as agreed, he brushed me off, saying it was a straightforward emergency and to consult the textbook. Following his advice, I performed the surgery solo, made a mistake, and had to re-anesthetize the dog to correct it. I felt pressured by my boss to handle the procedure on my own, even though I was inexperienced. Although I had the right to ask him to come in, I didn’t want to be an inconvenience. This was the wrong decision—I should have held him accountable, which would have spared me a lot of stress and, more importantly, prevented my patient from suffering due to my lack of leadership.
Establishing Boundaries with Support Staff
As a new grad, you might find yourself working with support staff who are the same age or older, with more clinical experience. While their input is invaluable, asserting yourself as a leader can be challenging. It’s crucial to trust your training and remember that, ultimately, the decisions are yours to make since it’s your license on the line.
For instance, when I encountered a dog with bleeding gums, I advised using a limb for blood collection to avoid potential complications. Despite my reasoning, a technician opted for the jugular vein. Fortunately, the dog was fine, but it was a lesson in maintaining trust and leadership. Prioritizing patient care over personal rapport is essential.
You have a broader perspective than your support staff, managing not just appointments but also callbacks, emails, and overall team efficiency. Delegating tasks effectively allows you to focus on responsibilities unique to your role. Although it might seem easier to handle some tasks yourself, it’s more efficient to delegate so you can handle critical duties like writing notes or communicating with owners.
Building personal relationships with support staff can also blur boundaries. Clear communication is key to avoiding favoritism and maintaining professionalism. Set boundaries for workplace interactions and keep personal discussions for breaks to ensure a balanced and effective work environment.
Managing Client Expectations
In today’s veterinary world, the demand far exceeds the available time. We can’t help everyone, but we strive to make every moment count. Setting boundaries with clients is essential, though it’s rarely easy. Abuse from clients, whether toward us or our support staff, is unacceptable. Emotions often run high, and clients may struggle to express themselves kindly, but we must teach people how to treat us. Even on good days, it’s crucial to let things roll off your back and, as Ted Lasso says, “be a goldfish”—forget the hard moments and move forward.
Sometimes, setting a boundary means saying, “I understand you’re frustrated, but you cannot speak to me like that. Let’s take a few minutes to regroup.” Other times, it may involve declining further services or walking away entirely. During the early pandemic, I encountered an irate client who yelled and threatened me and my manager. Despite my efforts to de-escalate, the situation only worsened. My manager called the police, and I had to step away. My colleagues asked why I didn’t walk away sooner, but I felt obligated to resolve the issue and owed it to him to listen to his concerns. In reality, no one deserves to be treated that way. Know when to walk away, take a break, or ask for help.
Never let clients pressure you into actions you’re uncomfortable with. An owner once asked me to euthanize a healthy two-year-old cat for inappropriate urination. I was conflicted—I grew up with two male cats who battled with urine and my shoes got caught in the cross-fire so I know the frustration, but here was an otherwise healthy, young cat. I offered alternatives, but the owner was adamant. I refused, knowing she might find someone else, but I needed to sleep at night. Convenience euthanasia is always challenging, but your comfort and ethics must guide your decisions.
Sometimes, setting a boundary is recognizing your limits and asking for help. After a particularly rough day with multiple euthanasia appointments, I was emotionally drained. My technician suggested asking another vet to handle the last appointment—a newly diagnosed diabetic cat whose owner couldn’t manage the treatment. I asked my mentor, and he kindly took over. This job is tough, and some days will test you, but we need to lean on each other.
Personal Boundaries
A challenging boundary for me is deciding how many patients I’m willing to see each day. It’s common to be asked to squeeze in a drop-off, euthanasia, or emergency, and learning when to say no is crucial. Many of us go through a phase where we say yes to everything—driven by loans, guilt, and the desire to help. But the reality is, we can’t help everyone. Time and energy are finite, and the demands are endless. Protecting your time and energy is essential, though it looks different for everyone.
For instance, I’ll almost always squeeze in a euthanasia. I want to help families avoid the stress of an ER visit during such a difficult time. However, I’m more discerning about taking emergencies. I ask myself: Do I have enough time to give this pet the attention it needs? Is my team overwhelmed? Are the ERs accepting patients? Are other doctors available?
Not everything is urgent, even if clients think it is. We manage countless situations daily—some true emergencies, many perceived as such. If an owner runs out of thyroid meds, the dog will be fine for a day. If someone emails at 5 PM asking about dog food, it’s okay to respond tomorrow. As a people-pleasing perfectionist, it’s been hard to accept that I can’t help everyone while also caring for myself. Clearing out messages before leaving the clinic feels satisfying, but is it necessary when I have after-work plans? No. You’ll never be “done,” so you have to be okay doing the best you can. Set clear expectations with clients to protect your time, which will lead to stronger, more authentic relationships.
This is a tough profession, and mental health is a constant concern. Being a veterinarian is a respected role, and people often gravitate towards us. But while I’m proud to be a vet, it’s not my entire identity. I have a partner in a different career, friends outside the vet world, and hobbies unrelated to work, which makes me a stronger vet. When I’ve tied too much of my identity to my job, bad days at work felt like personal failures. I’d come home, stew on it, and try to forget with a few glasses of wine. But having a fulfilling life outside of work helps me handle tough days better.
I also can’t overstate the importance of sleep. It’s crucial for cognitive skills, emotional regulation, and memory—key aspects of our job. Not everything is urgent, and we can’t save everyone. You need to know when to call it a day, go home, and recharge for the next day. Lack of sleep creates a negative cycle, making everything harder. I remind myself: Would I want a sleep-deprived surgeon operating on me? Absolutely not, and our patients deserve us at our best too.
Boundaries are Bridges, Not Barriers
In conclusion, boundaries are not just a luxury in the veterinary profession—they are a necessity. They are the foundation upon which we build a sustainable and fulfilling career, allowing us to serve our patients and clients with the compassion and excellence they deserve. By understanding our limits and confidently communicating them, we can protect our well-being, maintain our passion for the profession, and ultimately provide the highest standard of care.
The journey to setting and holding boundaries is ongoing, requiring constant self-reflection and adjustment. But the rewards are immeasurable. When we establish clear boundaries, we empower ourselves to say no when necessary, to prioritize our mental and physical health, and to create a work environment where we can thrive rather than merely survive. In doing so, we not only safeguard our own well-being but also enhance our ability to care for our patients with the dedication and energy they deserve. So, as we navigate the challenges of this demanding profession, let us remember that boundaries are not barriers—they are bridges to a more balanced, sustainable, and rewarding veterinary career.
Washington State
Veterinary Medical Association
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