The Halloween Edition

When you work in veterinary medicine, you learn quickly that the scariest things don’t hide under exam tables, they hide behind our smiles.

The real monsters?

They look like compassion fatigue that slowly grows into apathy.
Perfectionism disguised as “high standards.”
Boundaries that melt away with every extra shift.
And the overachiever in your head whispering, “You’ll rest when you’ve earned it.”

These monsters aren’t villains. They’re bodyguards that overstayed their welcome. At some point in your life, these high performance tendencies served you well. The younger version of you saw these as way to be loved and keep yourself safe.

Somewhere along the way, we taught our nervous systems that success equals safety. That worth is measured by how much we do, fix, give, or sacrifice. So even when the shift is over, our brain keeps running, replaying cases, double-checking notes and overwhlemed with shame and high expectations.

That’s not weakness, friend. That’s wiring.

When Your Brain Becomes the Haunted House

When something goes wrong, a missed vein, an upset client, a case that spirals, your brain hits the panic button. The amygdala, your emotional alarm system, goes full haunted-house mode, flooding you with cortisol and adrenaline. It doesn’t know the difference between “bear charging at you” and “client email at 10 p.m. letting you know Oscar ended up at the ER.”

Neuroscientist Daniel Goleman coined this reaction “amygdala hijack”. It’s the moment when fear takes the wheel and logic takes the back seat.

But here’s where the science gets spooky-cool: researchers at Harvard Medical School found that when you name what you’re feeling, your prefrontal cortex, the rational, calm-thinking part of your brain, lights back up. One study in Emotion (Lieberman et al., 2007) showed that even saying a single word about how you are feeling like “anxious,” “angry,” or “overwhelmed” reduces amygdala activity. In simple terms: naming it, tames it.

The Real Magic: Befriending the Monsters

So when perfectionism hisses, “You should’ve done more,” or fatigue growls, “You’ll never keep up,” don’t slam the door. Invite them in.

Try this 2-minute nervous system spell:
🎃 Trick: When you feel tense, your chest tightens, notice what story your brain is telling you, “I’m failing,” “They’re judging me,” “I don’t have time,” or “I’m not enough.”

🍬 Treat: Take three slow breaths, unclench your jaw, release your tongue from the roof of your mouth, feel your feet on the ground, and think, “I’m only human, I’m doing my best and I’m safe.” That’s emotional regulation in action and real-life witchcraft for your wellbeing. 🪄

That’s not fluff. That’s neuroplasticity.
Every calm breath re-teaches your brain that peace is available at all times.

Name It & Tame It

Naming your monsters doesn’t make you weak. It makes you wise.
When you can look at perfectionism, exhaustion, or guilt and say, “I see you,” you reclaim power over them.
Because the goal isn’t to banish the dark it’s to bring light to it.

In fact, I used this trick while I was working a shift this week. Several triages came in at the same time. My partner doctor on shift was all in on a critical patient and I felt myself starting to stress. I felt my heart rate up, breath shallow, mind spinning into overdrive.

My brain immediately went into its “Trick” mode: You’re behind. You can’t let anyone down. There’s patients waiting on you. You’re not fast enough.

Then, I chose to apply my “Treat”. I closed my eyes, paused. “I am feeling anxious. This is a normal feeling. My body is preparing me for this challenge.” I took three slow breaths, unclenched my jaw, and dropped my shoulders. reminded myself, “You’re doing your best and these pets have no one else to help them. They are all stable and you will get to them as soon as you can. You’re safe right now. Just do one at a time.”

Let me tell you, when I named it, I tamed it. Within seconds, my heart rate slowed. My clarity came back online and I turned the fear into adrenaline to provide the best care. The number of patients didn’t change, their triage level was the same status and all the same customers needed phone calls, the only thing that changed was my mindset. That’s the magic of naming the feeling, correcting the story and grounding in the body, it rewires the moment from fear to flow.

So this Halloween, whether you’re in costume, in clinic, or curled up with your pets, remember: Peace isn’t found in perfection, it’s found in presence.

Take one mindful breath at a time.
Let every exhale release something spooky.
Consistent small steps create big change and that’s how you rewire your brain from fear to flow.

With So Much Love,

Your Coach - Dr. Beth the Vet

The Monsters We Don’t Talk About in Veterinary Medicine

The Halloween Edition

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