Navigating the Doctor’s Office: When Seeking Help Feels Like an Uphill Battle

Today, I left the GP’s office feeling a familiar mix of frustration and unease. It wasn’t the first time I walked in hoping for clarity and walked out feeling misunderstood and judged. As a new mom, there are a lot of things that are new to me. Yet, sitting across from a doctor, I sometimes feel like I’m being reduced to a checklist of overreactions or, worse, a narrow persona they’ve pre-constructed in their minds.

It’s not that I don’t appreciate medical professionals; my dad also works in the industry. Their knowledge and expertise are vital. But there’s a difference between expertise and empathy, and sometimes it feels like the latter is in short supply.

What’s especially disheartening is the disconnect: you go in seeking a solution—relief for your worries, a roadmap for your concerns—and instead, you’re met with skepticism, even suspicion(?) You’re suddenly defensive, trying to convince them you’re not looking for a prescription, just a little reassurance or guidance. “Am I overreacting? Should I not have come?” These questions always seem to arise in me once the appointment ends.

I think a lot of this comes from the reality of modern medicine. Overbooked schedules, patients who may misuse the system, and a culture of “Dr. Google” have left many medical professionals jaded. I get it. But on the other side of that equation is a patient or parent who is scared, tired, and often just trying their best. There’s nothing more isolating than feeling dismissed in those moments when you’re most vulnerable.

For me, this aversion to doctors is something I’ve carried for years. Having sought for help during serious eating disorders and anxiety throughout my twenties and feeling like a ping pong for different specialists who never followed up or felt compassionate, made me hesitate to seek medical advice unless absolutely necessary. There was this unspoken rule: only go to the doctor if it’s an emergency. That mindset has subconsciously lingered until now, where “powering through” often felt like the norm. The only help sometimes feels like self help; but what happens when self help isn’t enough? But now, as a mom, the stakes feel higher. I’m not just advocating for myself—I’m advocating for my child.

So how do you navigate this? How do you reconcile the need for medical advice with the frustration of feeling unheard?

Well first, I remind myself that not every professional will be the right fit. It’s okay to look for a doctor who listens, who sees you as a person rather than a case file. Unfortunately you may need to go through a lot of doctors to find that one. And it’s okay to trust your instincts. If something feels off, it’s worth pursuing answers—even if it takes time and persistence.

I’ve also started to prepare for appointments differently. Writing down questions and concerns beforehand helps me stay focused, even if the appointment feels rushed. And I try to breathe and bring a sense of calm—not because I owe it to the doctor, but because it helps me advocate more effectively.

Finally, I remind myself that it’s okay to seek second opinions. Medicine is as much about collaboration as it is expertise, and you deserve to feel like a valued partner in your health care without feeling judged.

It’s not a perfect system, and the anxiety I feel after visits like today might never fully go away. But I’m learning to separate the jadedness of the system from my own experience.