Notes on Being a Deeply Fulfilled Workist

Mim Ari is a treasured colleague who was recently recognized by our senior medical school class with the Leonard Tow Humanism in Medicine Award presented by the Arnold P Gold Foundation. It should say something about Dr. Ari that this is the second time she has been recognized by the Gold Humanism Society, having been inducted into the University of Colorado’s Gold Humanism Honor Society chapter in 2009 as a 4^th year medical student.

When I read Dr. Ari’s acceptance speech, I thought it would be worth sharing on Sensible Medicine. I appreciate her willingness to edit it for publication.

Adam Cifu

I believe my career satisfaction comes from striving to be a deeply fulfilled workist. This is a term I have only recently been acquainted with, so allow me to give some context.

In 2019, Derek Thompson published an article in The Atlantic titled Workism Is Making Americans Miserable. The article explored the concept of workism, the idea that work has become a sort of modern religion in America, and that for many, their job is not merely a means to an end or a weekend, but a source of identity, meaning, and purpose. Most of the article points out dangers in this mindset. When we expect our careers to be responsible for meeting our emotional and existential needs, we set ourselves up for disappointment. It can make us miserable, especially when success or happiness are measured only in professional terms.

The article describes how the culture of workism pushes professionals to continually strive for more — more productivity, more credentials, more recognition. Instead of feeling satisfied with our contributions, we may feel anxious, always looking to the next milestone, or questioning if we’re doing enough. Such relentless pressure can lead to burnout and depletion. The promise that work will satisfy all our needs can fall short.

This cautionary message is not new. It has made its way into mainstream medical training, with robust, necessary discussions at all levels about wellness, resilience, and work-life balance being key to longevity and satisfaction in medicine.

However, toward the end of the article, there is a paragraph that offers something more positive and something that resonated deeply with me in an aspirational way. He writes:

Some workists, moreover, seem deeply fulfilled. These happy few tend to be intrinsically motivated; they don’t need to share daily evidence of their accomplishments. But maintaining the purity of internal motivations is harder in a world where social media and mass media are so adamant about externalizing all markers of success. There’s Forbes’ list of this, and Fortune’s list of that; and every Twitter and Facebook and LinkedIn profile is conspicuously marked with the metrics of accomplishment—followers, friends, viewers, retweets—that inject all communication with the features of competition. It may be getting harder each year for purely motivated and sincerely happy workers to opt out of the tournament of labor swirling around them.

On my best days, which thankfully are common, I like to consider myself a deeply fulfilled workist:

• I manage a busy primary care practice where I have built relationships with patients over nearly a decade. I can see my patients getting better (and many ask about my kids at each visit).

• I watch patients on the opioid use disorder consult service acknowledge the trainees who have made them feel better by ameliorating their symptoms of withdrawal and by offering support, hope, and evidence-based medications.

• I get to brainstorm about a “next big idea” with colleagues: a new curriculum, a new fellowship, a way to expand a program to a new group of learners.

• I see students present research that they have seen through from the initial question to publication.

• I call the families of my patients after they die. I offer condolences and share memories that capture the core of the person.

• I witness a senior resident, previously overwhelmed by a primary care patient’s health needs, tell me that at today’s visit, “there really is nothing that needs to be done; it was more of a social visit.”

It can be easy to let our identities, worth, and even happiness be dictated by external markers — perhaps not “likes” and “follows”, but publications, patient satisfaction scores, patient outcomes, titles, and awards. Our real work — the humanistic acts of compassion, presence, and respect — rarely make the lists. None of these moments go viral, and yet, they are at the center of fulfillment and purpose in medicine. They represent the quiet power of intrinsic motivation, the drive to care for our patients, peers, and mentees, regardless of who is watching or how many likes you get.

When I give lectures on chronic pain, a topic often considered challenging for clinicians, there are two things I usually include. They are part of my soapbox, but I hope they illustrate important concepts.

1. The relationship you build with patients matters: In 2024, a paper was published in JAMA Network Open entitled Physician Empathy and Chronic Pain Outcomes. This was a cohort study that included ~1500 adults with chronic low back pain. Patients treated by “very empathic” physicians (as deemed by the patients) reported having significantly better and clinically relevant outcomes pertaining to pain, function, and health-related QOL. Physician empathy was more strongly associated with favorable outcomes than non-pharmacological treatments, opioid therapy, and lumbar spine surgery.

2. Language matters. It is important that we use patient-first and non-stigmatizing language. Transforming a “pain patient” or a “pain seeker”, to a “person with chronic pain”, a “person on chronic opioid therapy”, a “person seeking relief from suffering” can reframe the entire relationship for both the patient and your colleagues.

Humanism in medicine is a patient-centered approach that prioritizes compassion, empathy, respect, and dignity, focusing on the whole person—rather than just their disease.

I invite you to protect your internal motivations, to turn their volume up. Let your fulfillment come from the care you provide, the relationships you nurture, and the lives you impact. In a world that urges you to join “the tournament”, guard your humanism fiercely. It is what your patients, their families, and colleagues often need most. Be a deeply fulfilled workist or at least a deeply fulfilled part-time workist.

Mim Ari, MD, is a general internist and addiction medicine physician, clinician educator, interested in primary care management of substance use disorder and chronic pain. She is committed to including trainees in high-quality ambulatory experiences.

Photo Credit Arron Choi