12/08/2025
I used to drive to the hospital every morning and pray for one thing:
To stop caring so much.
Not because I didn’t love my patients.
But because caring that deeply made everything heavier and harder, the extra notes, the extra conversations, the extra time I didn’t have but always gave.
I told myself that if I could just care a little less, I could move faster.
If I stopped taking every outcome personally, maybe I wouldn’t end each day overwhelmed with what still needed to be done.
And yet… every time a patient needed “just a little more,” I gave it.
Every time a course promised I could be a better clinician, I took it.
I wasn’t exhausted and looking to leave healthcare because I didn’t care.
I was exhausted because I kept treating my depth like a flaw I should fix.
When I left the system and built my own business, I carried that same pattern with me.
I tried to make myself smaller, lighter, less impacted, as if my depth was the reason I couldn’t keep up with the insane productivity standards of hospitals and capitalism.
But the truth hit me hard the day I realized I needed the same patience with myself that I had always had with everyone else.
The way I care, the way I go all the way into the nuance, into the layers, into the humanity of people, that’s not the problem.
What broke me wasn’t depth.
It was working in a structure that treated depth like a liability.
Today, I don’t pray to care less.
I build a business that can hold the way I care.
And I teach my clients, clinicians, coaches, leaders, the same:
Your impact isn’t in how much you do.
It’s in how deeply you show up.
Not harder.
Not faster.
Just truer.
If you’ve spent years trying to outrun the very thing that makes you exceptional, this is your reminder:
You’re allowed to rebuild your work from softness, not self-erasure.
And often, that’s when your real capacity (and impact) finally returns.