I"m a better doctor for accepting that I have a mental health problem

I didn’t realise I had a mental health problem. I’m a GP and it’s a common misconception that we don’t get them. We get stressed, of course. We get burnout – yes. But we don’t get mental health problems.

When I found myself working in a practice hit, like so many others, by the lack of GPs and nurses of course it was difficult. Spending days as the only doctor for 8,500 patients was horrific. On-call days started early with visits that were left over from earlier in the week because we hadn’t had enough doctors to go out. There was a list of patients to call back before the phone lines even opened, booked in by the receptionists because they had nowhere else to put them. Blood results to look at. Medication queries to answer. Letters to read and file. Repeat prescriptions to sign. Complaints letters to respond to. Care Quality Commission boxes to tick.

It was never ending. Somehow, in the middle of all this, I was expected to try and make a quiet calm, caring bubble with each patient for ten minutes. I was meant to put all this out of my mind and focus only on them. It’s what they deserved and it’s what I wanted to do. But I couldn’t.

Medicine is a busy job. General practice is a busy job. I never expected to have quiet days. But when arriving at 7am, and leaving at 11pm isn’t enough – what is? The constant pressure and the never-ending demands on my time got to me. I wanted to be a good doctor for my patients, and a good colleague to the staff who were all struggling. I pushed myself because that’s what we do. It didn’t matter that I hadn’t stopped to eat, drink, go to the toilet – as long as I was doing the job that was all that counted.

But what I couldn’t see was that I wasn’t doing the job. I was nowhere near being the doctor I wanted to be. I was so tired, I couldn’t concentrate. I had to double check everything I prescribed in case I’d made a mistake. I sat and filed hundreds of blood results like a robot. Clicking “normal” over and over again but not realising my brain could well be missing something important. My judgment went out of the window. My referral rates went up. I did blood tests on everyone because I couldn’t think through what was wrong with them. I thought I was being stoic, carrying on. I couldn’t admit to myself that actually I wasn’t safe.

I ignored all the signs – sleepless nights, early morning waking, overeating, drinking too much, no enjoyment in anything, dreading the next day. I ignored that I was burnt out. I ignored that I was depressed.

I did this very successfully for months, until – inevitably – it crashed down. One more frantic on-call day was the tipping point. I resigned and got ready to walk away from my career in medicine. I was 34 years old.

With the help of friends, family and my GP I got better. I started to value my own health and wellbeing. I can’t be the best doctor if I don’t look after myself. The more I talk about it, the more colleagues I find feeling like I did. This isn’t safe, and it isn’t fair on anyone.

I’m a GP. I have a mental health problem. But I’m a better doctor for accepting that.

Dr Zoe Norris is supporting Mind’s work to improve the mental wellbeing of primary care staff at work

If you would like to write a blogpost for Views from the NHS frontline, read our guidelines and get in touch by emailing sarah.johnson@theguardian.com.

Do you work in the NHS? Please take our survey and tell us whether bullying is a problem and how it affects your work

Join the Healthcare Professionals Network to read more pieces like this. And follow us on Twitter (@GdnHealthcare) to keep up with the latest healthcare news and views.

I"m a better doctor for accepting that I have a mental health problem