When You Know Your ‘Why’, You Can Handle Any ‘How’: Meaning, Purpose, and the Veterinary Journey

Bill Hanson
Dec 30, 2025
4 min read

Ever notice how some veterinarians seem to bend but not break? They face the same long hours, tricky clients, and unexpected emergencies, yet something about them feels steady, hopeful even. Meanwhile, others feel like they’re slowly unravelling under the same weight. It’s not about toughness or talent. It’s about anchoring. Those who thrive have a strong sense of meaning and purpose guiding them forward, while those who struggle often feel adrift, working hard but without a clear direction.

When we lose touch with meaning and purpose, veterinary life can start to feel like an endless treadmill. We get through the day, but we’re not moving toward anything that feels truly ours. But when we reconnect with what gives our work meaning, even the hard days begin to make sense. The challenges don’t disappear; they start to feel like part of a larger story worth living.

Meaning and purpose aren’t abstract ideals; they’re practical anchors. Meaning is the story you tell yourself about why your work matters. Purpose is the direction you’re walking, what you’re trying to become.

The veterinarians who thrive aren’t necessarily less stressed or more skilled; they’re clearer about what their work is for. It could be to become a trusted healer who steadies anxious clients. It's to grow into a wise mentor or an emotionally intelligent leader. Whatever the shape of that vision, it gives context to every day’s work — a reason to keep adjusting, learning, and showing up.

A mentor of mine once said, “If your future is big, your present will be as well.” I’ve seen that play out time and again. When your future has meaning, your present takes on weight and purpose. Even on a Tuesday in February, between consults and callbacks, you can feel that you’re building something bigger than just another day in practice.

It’s easy to lose that sense of direction, especially early in your career. New graduates leave the structured, supportive world of vet school and step into clinical practice where uncertainty reigns. There’s no manual anymore, no faculty safety net. Every mistake feels personal, and it’s tempting to think the problem is external — lack of mentoring, too much stress, not enough support.

Those factors are real, of course. But what often hurts more is the quiet loss of meaning. Without a clear internal compass, we start focusing on what’s wrong instead of what’s possible. We blame our environment instead of exploring what we can grow into.

In my recent mini-assessment discovering your Saboteurs, I talk about how inner voices like the Pleaser, Victim, and Avoider can take over and distort our perspective. They whisper familiar lines: "You're not cut out for this." "It's always going to be this hard." "Maybe you should just do something else." These voices convince us that the problem is permanent.

But there’s another inner voice available — the wiser, calmer part of us that asks a different question: “What is the opportunity here for learning or growth?” That simple shift can change everything. It’s the difference between being stuck in survival mode and moving forward with curiosity and hope.

Willpower can get you through a few tough weeks, but it’s meaning that sustains you for the long run. When we rely only on willpower — that tight, gritted-teeth determination — we burn out fast. But when purpose pulls us forward, we find a steadier, deeper energy.

There’s a simple way to tell which one is driving you. Forcing feels tense and narrow — you’re surviving. Flowing feels engaged, even if it’s hard — you’re growing. One burns energy; the other creates it. The shift happens when we stop pushing to get through the day and start choosing what we want to create through our work — a stronger self, a calmer presence, a wiser healer.

Here are a few ways to start realigning when life in practice starts to feel heavy or off-course.

1. Name your North Star. Ask yourself: Who am I becoming through this work? Not just what am I doing. Write one sentence that captures the veterinarian you aspire to be — compassionate but boundaried, calm under pressure, curious instead of judgmental. That sentence becomes your anchor when the day gets messy.

2. Find meaning in the moment. When something stressful happens — a client complaint, a tough euthanasia, a surgery gone sideways — pause and ask: How is this moment challenging me to grow? Maybe it’s patience. Maybe courage. Maybe empathy. Every challenge is shaping a future version of you, if you let it.

3. Spot the inner critic. Notice when your Hyper-Achiever, Pleaser, or Avoider takes the wheel. The moment you name it, you’ve created the space to choose differently. Then shift your focus and ask: ‘What’s the gift or lesson here’? Or, ‘What does this make possible’? These questions alone can soften resistance and bring back perspective.

Some veterinarians thrive not because their jobs are easier, but because their hearts are anchored. They’ve decided what their work is for — both for the animals they serve and for the person they’re becoming.

Hope doesn’t come from perfect conditions. It comes from a meaningful direction — a future big enough to pull you forward through the tough days. When you know your ‘why’, the ‘how’ becomes bearable, even beautiful.

So as you move through your week, pause to ask yourself:

What do I want my veterinary career to mean — for me and for others?

How can I reconnect to that sense of purpose today?

Which inner voice is shaping my story right now — the Saboteur critic or the calmer Sage within me?

Because the truth is: when your future is big, your present is better.

If you know a colleague who needs to read this, please forward this article. If you want to discuss this further, book a time for us to connect. It is confidential and free.