Why I Considered Leaving Clinical Work: A Look Into Professional Burnout

Burnout in medicine is real. It has pushed a significant number of healthcare professionals out of the field, not because they stopped caring, but because they became physically and mentally unable to sustain the relentless stress and emotional labor required to be an effective clinician. In 2023, thirty five percent of healthcare workers reported that they were considering leaving the profession. The greatest impact has been seen in primary care, which accounts for more than half of clinicians who ultimately exit healthcare.

The structure of primary care plays a major role in this exodus. Fifteen minute appointments and daily patient panels that often exceed thirty individuals create a pace that makes meaningful care difficult. This model leaves little room for comprehensive assessment, thoughtful discussion, or genuine relationship building. Over time, the provider patient relationship suffers, and clinicians begin to feel disconnected from the very reason they entered medicine in the first place.

I first began seriously considering stepping away from traditional clinical work during the transition back to in person care after the COVID pandemic. During the height of the pandemic, telehealth expanded rapidly out of necessity. We could not safely see patients face to face, so we adapted. At the time, I was practicing in primary care. While my daily patient volume remained similar, the efficiency and quality of visits through telehealth felt markedly different.

Patients were more likely to arrive on time. They were connecting from the comfort of their own environments. The visits felt less rushed and more focused. I found it easier to build rapport and foster trust, and patients seemed more receptive to medical guidance because they felt heard. The interaction felt intentional rather than transactional.

In nursing education, we are taught that the first interaction sets the tone for the entire therapeutic relationship. That foundation matters. During the telehealth era, I saw that principle come to life in a new way. The absence of physical constraints and the reduction in time pressure created space for genuine connection, which ultimately improved care delivery.

When the system shifted back to in person visits, it forced me to reflect. I had completed my doctorate because I wanted to remain deeply engaged in clinical care. I wanted to be present, invested, and fully immersed. Yet I found myself questioning whether returning to the traditional bedside model truly aligned with the kind of clinician I wanted to be. I began to ask a different question: what if I focused on delivering care in a way that prioritized relationships, adherence, and patient engagement through telehealth?

The realization that I could potentially do more good through a screen than in a rushed exam room was pivotal. It reshaped how I viewed the provider patient relationship. I began referring to the people I served as clients rather than patients, individuals who actively invest time, energy, and resources into their wellbeing. I wanted my level of presence and care to match that investment.

Ultimately, I made the decision to step away from in person clinical practice and transition fully to telehealth, now from a psychiatric perspective. This is the work I continue to do today.

I am happier, not because telehealth is more convenient, but because I feel reconnected to medicine. I feel aligned with a renewed sense of purpose and able to meet people where they are in a way that feels intentional and human. While the COVID pandemic was undeniably devastating, it also catalyzed meaningful change within the healthcare system. For me, it created a path back to the heart of why I chose this profession in the first place.

Reference

Burnout Trends Among US Health Care Workers. JAMA Network Open. 2025;8(4):e255954. doi:10.1001/jamanetworkopen.2025.5954