A few years ago, someone asked me a simple question: “Who are you outside of surgery?”
And for a moment, I didn’t know what to say.
I had answers ready for everything within the profession — training level, specialty, exam history, career direction. But outside of that? Total silence.
I realised something I think many surgeons quietly feel: We don’t just do surgery. We become it.
It creeps in slowly; through long hours, high stakes, and the constant pressure to perform. Until one day, surgery isn’t just your work anymore. It’s your entire identity.
The Identity Trap Starts Early
When you’re in training, life gets built around the rota. Weekends, plans, sleep, relationships everything orbits around the schedule.
People ask: “How’s work?” “Are you getting enough operating time?” “When’s your next exam?”
Nobody asks who you are when you’re not wearing scrubs. Not because they don’t care, but because the job takes up so much space that it becomes the most visible part of you.
And slowly, you start believing that too.
Your value becomes tied to:
- how well you operate
- how fast you run a list
- how your last case went
- what your consultant thinks of you
- what title you hold
It’s subtle, but dangerous.
When the Work Becomes You
Here’s the problem with letting surgery become your whole identity: The highs feel incredible… but the lows feel catastrophic.
A complication doesn’t just feel like a clinical outcome — it feels like a personal failure. A bad day in theatre becomes a bad day as a person. An exam setback becomes a crisis of confidence.
Because if your identity is built entirely on your role… any crack in that role feels like a crack in you.
And that’s how people burn out without even realising it. Not from the job itself, but from the weight of having nothing else that defines them.
The Wake-Up Moments
Every surgeon has that moment — the one that makes you realise how far you’ve drifted from yourself.
For some, it’s missing too many family events. For others, it’s going home with nothing left in the tank for the people they love. For others still, it’s the quiet thought: “If I stopped doing surgery today… who would I even be?”
That question hits hard. Because surgery gives us purpose, but it can also steal it if we’re not careful.
The Truth We Forget
You can love surgery deeply… and still be more than surgery.
You can be excellent at your craft… and still build a life that has space for joy, hobbies, friendships, relationships, and rest.
You can care about becoming the best surgeon you can be… without letting that be the only thing you care about.
Because a surgeon who has a life outside the OR doesn’t lose focus — they gain resilience. They make better decisions, handle pressure more calmly, and recover from setbacks faster.
You can’t pour from an empty identity.
Rebuilding the Parts of You That Got Buried
If surgery has started swallowing your identity, here are things that actually help:
1. Reclaim something small that’s just for you Not work-related, not productive, not measured. Reading. Running. Music. Cooking. Anything that reminds you you’re human.
2. Spend time with people who don’t ask about cases or exams It’s grounding. It reminds you that your worth isn’t tied to your performance.
3. Set one boundary you can actually maintain Leave on time once a week. No emails after a certain hour. Say no to something you genuinely can’t take on. Start small — consistency matters more than size.
4. Separate your identity from your outcomes A complication doesn’t erase your skill. A tough week doesn’t cancel your potential. You’re allowed to learn without labelling yourself.
5. Build a version of yourself that will still exist after medicine Not because you’re leaving, but because you’re more than the job.
The Bottom Line
We didn’t choose surgery because we wanted it to consume us. We chose it because we wanted to help people, challenge ourselves, and grow.
But you can’t grow when you only exist in one dimension.
The best surgeons I know aren’t the ones who disappeared into their careers, they’re the ones who built lives that kept them grounded, curious, and whole.
You’re allowed to be proud of being a surgeon. Just don’t let it be the only thing you are.
When you’re ready, here’s how I can help you:
I’ve created a collection of practical, experience-based tools to help surgeons build clarity, visibility, and long-term career growth — all in one place.
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Each resource is designed to help you grow beyond the OR — without burning out.
