Many physicians are feeling profoundly betrayed right now.

We dedicated our lives to medicine, science, and healing. We sacrificed. We put our patients first, often at great personal cost.

The current political and public health landscape makes many of us feel disregarded, unheard, and deeply disrespected.

Health care, and we as physicians, feel under siege.

Public health policies are shifting in ways that ignore scientific evidence and undermine the medical profession.

Physicians are being told how to practice medicine by people with little to no medical expertise.

Long-standing public health initiatives are being dismantled.

For some, this moment is triggering PTSD from the early pandemic days—when uncertainty ruled, when we were stretched beyond our limits, and when we felt powerless in the face of crisis.

Once again, we’re being forced to navigate policies that dismiss realities, erode public trust in medicine, and place even more strain on an already exhausted profession.

Once again, we feel out of control, overwhelmed, exhausted, and disempowered.

In coaching, at retreats, and in hospitals across the country, I hear the same frustrations, the same exhaustion, the same heartbreak.

It feels personal.

It feels like an attack on the value of medicine, the sanctity of vaccines, and the foundation of public health.

It feels like an attack on the humans we love.

And yet, taking it personally drains us.

We take it personally because we have given everything to this profession.

Because we missed our children’s birthdays, lost sleep, and worked past exhaustion to keep our communities safe. We expect policymakers to share our values.

Right now, it appears they don’t.

It is infuriating. It is reasonable to be angry.

For a time.

What happens after the anger?

If we stay in rage, betrayal, and exhaustion, we risk losing our ability to respond effectively.

This is where “perpetual creative response” comes in—a concept I learned from Martha Beck.

Perpetual creative response is about choosing intentional, strategic, sustainable action.

It’s not about ignoring the issues or pretending they don’t matter.

It’s about responding from a place of clarity and strategy rather than depletion.

What is our job right now?

Physicians have an overwhelming sense of responsibility.

We feel it’s our job to protect the health of our country, fight against injustice, and take a stand.

But expecting ourselves to fix everything is an impossible and unreasonable burden.

So, what is our job right now?

To model calm and “perpetual creative response.”

To resist catastrophizing and doomsday thinking.

To focus on what we do have control over.

To be strategic.

We don’t know what’s coming.

We don’t have to assume it will all be OK. We also don’t have to assume disaster is inevitable.

If things do end up unfolding in the worst possible way, what will we wish we had done today?

Definitely not wasted our energy on worry and panic.

We will wish we had taken care of ourselves, grieved for a moment, gathered data, and conserved our energy so we can respond strategically.

Individually, we feel powerless. Collectively, physicians have immense influence.

We control the conversations we have with our patients—especially about vaccines. We control whether we conserve or deplete our emotional and physical energy. We control when and how we choose to respond, advocate, and take a stand.

Our collective strength will likely be needed.

When that time comes, we will be more effective if we are not exhausted, cynical, and feeling ineffectual (= burnout.)

Healthy boundaries keep the good in.

Boundaries aren’t about shutting patients out—they’re about keeping the good in.

Right now, patients are scared, disenfranchised, and uncertain about their health care. That fear is spilling over into the exam room. Many are more reactive, more frustrated, more desperate—not because they are inherently difficult, but because they are afraid.

When people are afraid, they push harder, demand more, and expect immediate solutions.

As physicians, we are absorbing more patient fear, frustration, and emotional urgency than ever before.

If we don’t set firm boundaries, that fear will consume us.

Our role is to care, but not to self-sacrifice. It is not our job to fix a broken system or take on the entire emotional weight of our patients. That weight is simply too heavy.

Boundaries don’t mean caring less—they allow us to care more, and longer.

Few things in pediatrics feel as personal as vaccine refusal.

It can feel like a rejection of science, public health, and our very profession.

When I remind myself that a patient’s resistance to vaccines isn’t about me, I am able to respond without frustration or depletion.

Patients who refuse vaccines are also scared. Their refusal isn’t a personal attack—it’s a reflection of fear, misinformation, or mistrust.

I no longer take these conversations as a battle to be won. Instead, I provide clear, evidence-based guidance in a way that is calm, concise, and confident. I offer a strong recommendation. If they decline, I document it and move on.

That doesn’t mean I don’t care.

It means I am choosing where to invest my emotional energy. It means I am protecting my ability to continue advocating for vaccines without burning myself out in the process.

Holding boundaries is not unkind—it is necessary.

Patients are pushing harder because they feel powerless. They are demanding more because they are afraid. If we take on every patient’s fear as our own, we will break.

When patients push, we don’t have to push back—or cave.

We can hold steady, responding with compassion.

We can offer care without self-sacrifice.

We can choose where we place our energy so that we can keep showing up—for our patients, for our loved ones, and for ourselves.

Many of the struggles showing up in our country right now mirror what we have been facing in medicine for years.

Decisions are being made for reasons far beyond the individual experiences of physicians, patients, or clinics. We feel unheard, unseen, and unvalued. It feels personal.

Both situations require us to pause, breathe, rest, and restore.

We can then choose with intention to focus on what’s in our control—how we choose to respond.

We can choose how we care for ourselves, our families, and our patients.

We can choose the stories we tell about the situation, how and when we advocate, and how and when we rest.

Healthy, whole physicians are exactly who and what we need to find creative responses forward.

You, your loved ones, your patients, and our collective societal health are worth it.

Jessie Mahoney is a board-certified pediatrician, certified coach, mindfulness and yoga teacher, and the founder of Pause & Presence Coaching & Retreats. After nearly two decades as a physician leader at the Permanente Medical Group/Kaiser, she stepped outside the traditional medical model to reimagine what sustainable well-being in health care could look like. She can also be reached on Facebook and Instagram.

Dr. Mahoney’s work challenges the culture of overwork and self-sacrifice in medicine. She helps physicians and leaders cultivate clarity, intention, and balance—leveraging mindfulness, coaching, yoga, and lifestyle medicine to create deep and lasting change. Her CME retreats offer a transformative space for healing, self-discovery, and renewal.

As co-host of The Mindful Healers Podcast, she brings self-compassion and presence into the conversation around modern medical practice. A sought-after speaker and consultant, she partners with organizations to build more human-centered, sustainable, and inspired medical cultures.

Dr. Mahoney is a graduate of Dartmouth College and the University of California, San Francisco, School of Medicine.