It has happened to me countless times. I am talking to a friend or even a family member and when I tell them I am a psychiatrist, I get any of the following responses:

“I can’t imagine how you do that!! Listening to depressing stories again and again?”

“If I did that, I would be so emotional, I wouldn’t cope.”
“You must be so drained when you get home?”

I understand why people would think this. And like any other job, sure, there are some tough days.  But the reality is that I don’t come home drained every day. If anything, I often come home feeling energised and fulfilled. Sometimes I see patients in some of the most vulnerable moments of their lives. To have some capacity to make a difference to that, however minor, is a privilege that I don’t take for granted.

I have heard many “sad” stories over the years. But these can also be stories of resilience and stories of hope.  I have been amazed time and again by the complexity of human beings and how even in the darkest moments, there are flickers of light. Sometimes my job is to shine a torch on those flickers and show them to the patient. But sometimes my job is also to sit in the darkness with the patient, so they don’t feel so alone.

The other thing about my job is I get to work with some pretty amazing people.  I have a huge amount of respect for my nursing colleagues but have also seen the incredible work other teams do in our profession – such as psychologists, social workers, and occupational therapists.  There is a certain brand of humour and camaraderie in mental health work that I have not experienced in working in other fields of medicine.

Our work is challenging, complex and often there is no ‘protocol’ or ‘black-and-white’ answer.  This can be difficult if you are the type of doctor that needs to be right all the time. Whilst there are broad frameworks and guidelines within which we work, there is also a great deal of nuance and flexibility. Every story is different and there is no way you can apply a ‘cookie-cutter’ approach.  Most psychiatrists, however, enjoy this very ambiguity in the work. As I often think to myself – there is never a dull moment in psychiatry.

I used to have a neurologist colleague who told me the story of how he decided to become a neurologist.  He was doing various jobs to put himself through medical school, and would always watch the clock at work to see when the day would end. When he was training in neurology, he would never look at the clock and the day would fly by. I feel much the same about the work that I do.