As I sit down to write this final column for this series, I’m reminded again of the foundational need for self-compassion (Practicing Self Compassion for Physicians).

You can read thousands of pages of self-care strategies (Caring for Yourself as a Physician; Self Directed Self Care), but won’t implement them unless you feel on a deep and personal level that it’s okay to do so. (Spoiler alert: the implementation is of course the key).

You can learn all the skills that underline boundary-setting (Boundary Setting as a Physician), but you won’t set effective boundaries unless you feel secure in your right to set boundaries.

Along those lines, I feel a deep ambivalence about “you can’t pour from an empty cup.” Yes, it’s true and I think it resonates with healthcare professionals (among others). But it still locates the value of self-care outside the self; it can almost feel like you have to “earn” the right to care for yourself. And that isn’t something that we have to earn. Actually, we have a right not to walk around as empty cups, regardless of whether and how much we’re pouring out.

So for my closing thoughts, I invite you to give yourself permission to take care of yourself. And an essential part of this is permission to feel your feelings, whatever they are.

Permission to grieve a loss, even if it was expected (Disenfranchised Grief).

Permission to mourn an error (The Weight of Error). 

Permission to leave medicine despite its rewards.

Permission to love medicine despite its stressors.

But above all permission to be fully human. And not just human, but the one and only human that you were born to be.

It has been an honor and a pleasure to be on this journey with you over the last 18 months.

*Note from the Editors: As we publish this final piece from Dr. Kathryn Lawson, we want to take a moment to recognize what a gift her voice has been to Rethinking Residency over the past two years. With empathy, clarity, and deep insight, Kathryn has helped our community of physicians name the difficult things – burnout, grief, moral injury, the quiet ache of disillusionment – and offered a way forward that never felt generic or prescriptive.

Her writing has been a gentle companion during some of the hardest moments of medical training, a reminder that being human and being a healer are not incompatible. For so many of our readers, her words were the ones that made them feel less alone.

We are deeply grateful to Kathryn for the care, compassion, and courage she’s brought to every article. She leaves an indelible mark on this project and on the many lives she’s touched through her work.