In this personal piece, Rachel Bowron shares her experience of working through the Covid-19 pandemic and the toll it took on her mental health. From the invisible wounds of moral injury to a powerful journey through recovery, Rachel’s story is one of resilience, transformation, and hope. Her reflections offer vital insight into the emotional cost of care and the importance of wellbeing in the veterinary profession.
At the start of 2020, after more than two decades as a small animal vet, I was happy in a consulting-only role, which I had chosen because I really enjoyed building relationships with clients and supporting them with difficult decisions, especially around end of life care. When the first Covid lockdown was announced and we began car park consulting, I realised very quickly that I hated the impact it had on my interactions with my clients. Everything that was important to me about how I worked became difficult or impossible to achieve – masks and steamed up glasses were barriers to effective communication, sensitive conversations had to be held within earshot of others and socially distant euthanasias lacked the usual warmth and human connection.
Emotional Strain
There was, of course, no choice but to ‘just get on with it’ and that is what I did for the next sixteen months until we started allowing clients back into the consulting rooms.
During this time, I became more and more unhappy and disillusioned at work, but I thought that I would find my enjoyment and pride in being a vet again when life went back to ‘normal’. This wasn’t the case though and, despite hiding most of what I was feeling from those around me, one colleague noticed that I wasn’t ok and pushed me very firmly towards some counselling that I really didn’t want to have.
Discovering Moral Injury
Despite my reluctance, those six sessions proved to be life-changing because they enabled me to appreciate why I was struggling so much and learn what I needed to do to recover.
I had not come across the term ‘moral injury’ before my counsellor, who is also a practising vet, mentioned it and it took a while for me to understand and accept what it meant in my situation. Like lots of us during the pandemic, I had experienced many months of ‘wrongness’, forced by circumstances outside of my control to work in a way that was contrary to what I valued and believed to be right. This sustained period of repeated, small moral injuries had contributed to me developing PTSD, anxiety and depression.
Talking to someone who understood the challenges of working through the pandemic was invaluable but, even more importantly, my counsellor introduced me to positive psychology and taught me to meditate. Although it was not something that I would ever have imagined myself doing, meditating made me feel better and it quickly became part of my daily routine. Gradually, I learnt to use meditation and mindfulness to manage the anxiety and fear that was making life in the consulting room so uncomfortable. Over the next few months, as I understood more about what had happened to me, my professional interests shifted away from animals towards the people who treat them, and I embarked on a postgraduate certificate in the psychology of kindness and wellbeing at work. It was only then, while studying it from an academic perspective, that I realised that I had also been experiencing burnout for a prolonged period.
Recognising Burnout
Looking back, the signs had been there in abundance – I was permanently tired, had very little appetite, was often overwhelmed by a normal day’s work and inclined to moan excessively about minor irritations, and had stopped doing the things outside of work that I enjoyed. While the PGCert was energising me, the emotional effort of consulting continued to be very draining, and I gradually came to the reluctant conclusion that I just couldn’t do clinical work any more. Saying that out loud was one of the hardest things that I have ever had to do.
I stopped consulting and reduced my work hours significantly in early 2023, which was the turning point in starting to recover from the burnout. It took a few months of rest and consistent self-care to feel like myself again and, by the time I completed my PGCert, I knew that I was ready for a change of career pathway.
A New Chapter
I now have a full time veterinary mental health and wellbeing role, which gives me a huge sense of purpose and job satisfaction. I know that having been burnt out once, I am at increased risk of it happening again, so I am very deliberate about looking after my mental health. For me, that means meditating at least twice a day, taking ballet and yoga classes, getting outside for a walk when I feel anxious or stressed and having regular psychotherapy, which supports me in managing my PTSD and navigating the challenges of life and work.
Download our Burnout, moral injury and compassion fatigue resource.
