Six years ago, I saw my last physical therapy patient.
She didn’t go without kicking and screaming.
She’d been a “lifer” as many of us call patients who stick around for a long time.
I loved her dearly. We had become friends. I was on her holiday card list.
The best part? Six years later – I still am.
And yet, when walking away from the profession, I was filled to the brim with grief.
I remember laying on the floor of my office that December day in 2018, knowing it was time.
I cuddled up with my black lab pup, Raven, closed my eyes, and cried tears into her fur.
As I did, an image came into my mind’s eye. It was a little girl standing by a lake.
One foot was on a dock, and the other foot was on a small boat.
She was crying, clinging with both feet as her legs spread into a split – refusing to let the boat set sail.
She was me.
But the captain of the boat was also me.
She was the version of me who fell in love with physical therapy as a patient trying to reclaim her swimming career, and turned it into her beloved career where got to help patients reclaim their swimming (and other athletic) careers.
She was the version of me who grew her heart, mind, hands, and consciousness to recognize all the ways that human suffering shows up in the body, mind, and spirit.
She was the one who built relationships with colleagues from other professions – colleagues who would, in turn, play instrumental roles in her own health and cancer journeys.
She was the one who partnered with and walked alongside the bravest, most beautiful patients and clients.
She was the one who spoke on huge stages and LOVED being able to look out into an audience and see the glimmer in the eyes of the audience as lightbulbs went off in their heads.
She was the one who gave kids and teens a voice – when she didn’t feel like she had the same voice as a kid or teen herself.
She was the version of me who made so many lifelong friends and gained beautiful mentors far and wide – from all corners of the globe.
She had said goodbye a number of times – when changing jobs within the profession. But now she was saying goodbye to the profession.
She was ready to let me set sail. She was ready for me to move on. She was ready to cheer me on. But she wanted two things:
To be honored and thanked for all she did to get me to this point
To be brought along for the ride, just in case I ever wanted to return
And that’s exactly what I did, and why leaving the profession came from a high point, a true place of feeling “complete.”
I’d be lying if I said I don’t re-examine that decision at least once a week. I’d be lying if opportunities don’t present themselves and I go down a rabbit hole of researching and sitting with and examining if now is the time I return.
But because I brought her along with me – an integral part of my story and identity – I see how much she still plays a role.
I see how she’s informed the expertise, empathy, compassion, and grace I now bring to clients as a coach.
It’s how I hold my head high as I move forward into each iteration and chapter that’s followed.
Yet I hear so many people tell me they’re so afraid of leaving. So afraid of letting go, even though deep down – they know it’s the right move for them.
They’re straddling the abyss between the boat and the dock too.
For me, I had an incredibly amazing vision that I was pursuing. I knew that it was time for something more, better, more expansive – something that allowed all the parts of me to spread out and be fully herself.
There were also things – dirty truths, if you will – that I’d known were part of the profession all along. They’d been hidden for years behind the good parts. Eventually, I could not unsee them.
And even though I had the desire and drive to run towards what I’d envisioned for my next chapter (I’d argue, this is a necessary piece of finally making the leap)
I also had motivation to leave.
But to be honest, the “getting away from it” reasons were not the reasons that I ultimately left. This is the mistake I see so many people make.
They know why they don’t want to stay – they’re tired, burned out, underappreciated, escaping toxicity … and so they leave, replacing PT with anything else that seems palatable.
Sometimes this is a necessary step to find safety and homeostasis.
But more often than not, I see that they just recreate and re-establish the same problems in other professions.
This happens all the time when PTs leave PT for the coaching industry (and it’s why I have a long history of helping PTs bridge this gap in a way that’s incredibly self honoring and sustainable).
And for me – I didn’t necessarily see all of the “reasons I want to leave” as soon as I left on that December day, 6 years ago.
No, it took getting some distance from the profession to finally see the unspeakable truths – those things we don’t say out loud so we don’t upset someone –
...and to find the wherewithal to heal and put words around them.
So it goes when we finally free ourselves from something binding, constricting – requiring us to conform or be punished.
It’s often when we’re finally free that we see just how many truths there actually were, problems that would preclude our ability to ever return.
And here in Part 2 of this blog series, I expose the final 3 truths for why – at this point in my life – I will not return to the PT profession.
I haven’t really spoken about these truths so openly since leaving 6 years ago – mainly because I was afraid of who I would upset or alienate if I did.
This seemed reasonable for someone who was and is as sensitive, intuitive, and empathetic as me. When other people are upset, I feel it as mine. It hurts.
But then I asked myself who I was really protecting by holding these dirty truths inside.
If you’re thinking I’m going to say that I was protecting myself, you would be slightly right, and slightly wrong.
That’s because it doesn’t help me to hold the words inside. It only hurts me.
And possibly, by refusing to speak truth to these everpresent dirty little secrets – I’m also hurting others who need to hear the words and need permission to own these truths in their own stories.
Secondly, and perhaps most importantly – I was afraid that if I spoke the truth, I would lose the respect, agreement, and connection of people I loved dearly.
Even though I wasn’t practicing, over the past 6 years I have still made an effort to support my PT colleagues. Just because I exited didn't mean they had to.
But then I realized – if people who supposedly love me stop respecting me for speaking and sharing my truth, then perhaps they never truly respected or loved me in the first place.
I also realized that these can be my truths without being anyone else’s truth.
It can be my experience without any intention of changing anyone else’s worldview.
If this feels like it’s for you – then read on. If it doesn’t depict your experience, then no part of me believes that you have to agree with me. And you certainly don't have to keep reading.
Lastly, I discovered that by speaking the truth about these pervasive issues, it doesn’t cancel out all the good parts of the profession I hold so dear in my heart.
Two things can be true at once.
After all – life is darkness AND light, mess AND neatness, joy AND sorrow. Both/and’s are where the juice of life exists. The full spectrum of human experience.
The ability to hold and honor this nuance is one of life’s greatest gifts.
Thus, here we are – giving breath and life to more of these truths. I'm breathing them out. You're breathing them in.
Thanks for being here to witness and hold the space.
Truth 4: There’s a not-so-subtle war in the PT profession – waged against anyone or anything that does not pledge allegiance to #getPT1st
When I outgrew my first PT job, there was one thing I was afraid of more than anything else – walking away from people who’d guided me, supported me, and become friends.
In fact, that’s a huge factor that slowed me down in setting up that fateful, heart-pounding meeting with my boss to let him know that I was moving on to another PT job that allowed me to stretch and grow more.
Turns out, the people who were meant to stay friends with me came along for the ride into my next chapter, even if we didn’t work together.
Then I outgrew the 2nd job, this time not only because my ability to expand was far greater than the “container” of the job could hold … but also because it was such a covertly and overtly toxic atmosphere that it festered and fostered uncontrolled growth in its employees -- which for me, looked like an uncontrollably growing tumor in my lung.
Mind, body, and Soul – my life literally depended on me leaving.
Yet, I couldn’t just leave.
I had to give 60 days’ notice, and even after that, I had to really watch my back on what I said, did, or where I tried to work.
I was in a strict contract with a non-compete that my attorney said was “utterly ridiculous, but also would be utterly ridiculous to try and fight.” So I didn't. I waited, even though I'd been straddling that "Should I stay or should I go now" abyss for months ... maybe even years.
Plus, I had a hard time grappling with the mind games that had been played on me and my colleagues who worked there.
On the front end, I was showered with admiration and praise – all while the company was placed on a pedestal designed by the owner herself, who was incredibly skilled and charming at making the sell, making you feel like you were the most important person in the world entering the most important place in the world.
I felt like I'd entered Shangri-La. Working with the best of the best. Innovating. Doing things differently. I could grow and grow expansively.
But soon thereafter the honeymoon and love bombing was over.
I saw beneath the surface – that the energy of expansive growth and trying to differentiate and always be the best as a company – was actually really similar to cancer. No wonder it grew inside of me so rapidly while I worked there.
All this focus on growth occured at the expense of playing nice to the faces of other providers in the city, but behind closed doors insulting them and asserting the superiority of the company over everyone else.
The outward values of the company did not match the inward practices. Integrity was at an all time low.
“Teamwork” meant working together, but secretly trying to one-up every other member of the team.
“Excellence” meant unrestricted growth, overstriving, and being in constant pursuit of the next latest and greatest shiny toy, modality, or certification because nothing anyone did was ever good enough.
“Compassion” meant swooping in to "help" and sharing (subtext: asserting) your genius over someone else who wasn’t as skilled as you, all while shaming that person behind closed doors for being lesser-than.
If the owner couldn’t leech off your talents and genius while underpaying and underappreciating you -- all while having such a strict non-compete you'd never find a better job anywhere else -- then you had to stay put, letting it suck the life out of you.
I thought I’d signed up to expand my heart and soul in a career I loved.
But it turns out, with that job and all of its covert and overt aggression, I’d actually signed up to be a prisoner of war.
And once I finally freed myself from the shackles, I saw that this job was just a microcosm of the profession as a whole.
I’d pledged allegiance to the religion of the profession long before I ever set foot in a PT job.
This religion brought with us the same mentality you see in actual religions. You're either with us and we benefit from your allegiance, or you're against us, and you must pay for it.
In PT school, we had the hierarchy of medicine drilled into our heads.
PTs, now a part of a profession that awarded its graduates a Doctorate degree – religiously believed that they were equal to, if not better than, those other doctors … also known as physicians.
Physicians were looked up to in the hierarchy as "gods." And since we were taught that we were just as good or better than physicians: PTs were programmed to believe we were Godlier than Thou.
To be fair, this wasn’t wholly true in every part of PT – the more traditional “rehab” areas (acute care, pediatrics, neuro, geriatrics, oncology, to name a few) either subscribed or created more equitable partnerships in the traditional, physician-led medical hierarchy.
But in the orthopaedic, women’s health, and sports world (the world I occupied) – we were taught that PT -- i.e. the Holy Savior -- could sweep in and save everyone. See Truth #6 for more on why trying to be everything to everyone is not a recipe for good PR.
If patients were prescribed surgery for their arthritis instead of doing PT, then we believed their surgeon had failed them.
If patients took medication for their shoulder problem instead of getting PT, then they were being cheated by the system.
If patients saw a chiropractor (whom we were taught were quacks and frauds) for their back pain instead of seeing a PT who could do the same manipulations and maneuvers, then they were being sold snake juice by Satan himself.
If patients saw an athletic trainer or personal trainer, the patient was getting subpar, unqualified care.
If a nurse applied biofeedback to a patient’s vagina when the patient reported leaking, women’s health providers stormed state capitals and demanded the nurse lose her license in the name of “protecting patients”
To be clear – I’m not saying that PT does not play a valuable role in these types of situations, and that there aren’t bad actors in other professions.
What I’m saying is that other professions are filled almost entirely with good, smart, skilled, kind, caring people.
I'm saying that no one profession is God almighty, no one profession owns a push-up, no one profession owns manual therapy, no one profession owns the vagina or pelvic floor...
...though... side note - isn't it a bit ironic that the people who claim to be supporting women's vaginas are the very people fighting over who gets to control their vaginas. And damn, if that isn't that a tale as old as time, then what is?
So there's lots of things I'm NOT saying.
But what I’m DEFINITELY saying is this
If you’re the the profession that goes around villainizing everyone else in order to reign supreme and superior – at some point you have to wonder, who is the real villain here?
Is it really all that great if you’re always on the defensive, always needing to prove yourself as better than?
As it happened in the microcosm of my 2nd job, these defense mechanisms didn't only extend outside of the profession -- but also to people within the profession.
Early on in PT school – before we have fully developed prefrontal cortices – we were programmed to pledge allegiance to the subtle message “You’re either with us or against us" especially if you claim to be one of us.
And if you, as a PT, so much as stray from the religious PT doctrine to which you’d been baptised and confirmed – you became one of them. One of the villains.
Hated, outcast, exiled, fought against, shamed.
Follow our religion – which on the surface was founded on a principle of love and service … but underneath, there is a message of – if you don’t follow our rules, we’ll send our people with pitchforks for you.
Which is why hundreds and thousands (if not hundreds of thousands) of people stay put or don't speak up in a profession when their hearts and souls and bodies say “This isn’t right. We're killing our own.”
It’s human nature to stay quiet, stay put in something toxic, or duck and cover when you sense something bad will happen to you if you leave or stray from the straight-and-narrow.
After all – it may be uncomfortable staying put, but at least the discomfort you feel is predictable. You trade the discomfort you feel for a halfhearted sense of safety.
But I think it’s worth mentioning that trying to avoid punishment is not the only reason people stay quiet or stay put.
It can feel really heartbreaking to let go of something with which some part of you once fell in love.
It gave you a sense of purpose, belonging, and community.
And so you grasp to your “why” to grasp onto reasons you still feel that fondness and love and to justify why you stay – you try and reinvigorate yourself and silence that disenchantment in your heart with new projects, new roles, new certifications or new courses.
But no matter how many things you pile on top of the disconnect you feel deep down, the truth of war wages on.
This “you’re either with us or against us” wartime mentality was rampant for me in Job #2– and once I left, I could see it was happening everywhere.
And I'd see the futile attempts people made to find reasons to blame -- who started the war in the first place? Was it the powers that be at the top of the profession? Was it the people in the profession itself? Was it other professions? Was it the insurance companies? Was it the government?
Was it Voldemort?
The truth is, change doesn’t happen by waiting for the powers that be, the system, the environment, of Voldemort to get on board.
It happens with you getting real and taking responsibility for those deep truths buried waaaaayyy deep in the crevices of your heart.
I don’t propose that there be a mass exodus from this profession, nor do I believe that it’s all bad.
No, I still believe, as I’ve said throughout this blog – that there is more good than bad.
But it’s important to look at how you might be contributing to the war against anything other than PT by seeing what you're saying to yourself about it first.
I mean – sinking into yourself and asking why you feel you must defend yourself and your profession in the first place.
If it’s really as great as you say it is, why do you need to spend so much energy convincing everyone else that they need to #getPT1st?
Because at the end of the day, who are you actually trying to convince?
Truth #5: Never-ending <alphabet> soup belongs at Olive Garden, not behind your name
I remember the very first time that I was on a clinical internship as a student, and my clinical instructor told me to sign my name and put my credentials behind it.
I gave her a bewildered look, not knowing what she meant by credentials.
She whispered “SPT, for student physical therapist.”
A wave of all-the-feels washed over me.
On the one hand, I was so proud to have something behind my name that indicated that I was legit and worthy of writing my thoughts in a patient’s chart.
On the other hand, I wasn’t allowed to sign the chart unless she also put her name and credentials next to mine. And as she signed her name followed by PT, DPT – I immediately felt small and unimportant. It didn’t really matter what I wrote, so long as someone else approved and signed off on it.
Even though it was only my first year, I started counting down the days until I would graduate, pass my boards, and have letters behind my name that indicated I was even more legit and worthy of writing my thoughts in a patient’s chart.
It’s not that I didn’t want to acknowledge or recognize the necessary training steps to reach that point. I loved school. I soaked in every minute.
It’s not that I didn’t want someone else telling me what to do ...although if this blog is any indication – I’ve always preferred to march to the beat of my own drum.
It’s not that I didn’t honor and value the input, feedback, and suggestions of mentors. Big fan of mentors. Huge.
No, it’s that from the very tender age of 23 – where I still didn’t have a fully developed prefrontal cortex to help me discern and distinguish between what’s true out there and what’s true in here.
I drank the kool-aid that said what makes you worthy and important are the letters behind your name.
Subtext: the more letters you have, the more worthy you are and therefore the more confident you can feel.
I remember my first conference as a PT student – it was outside of Philadelphia.
My classmates and I drooled over a handsome speaker from the Army who taught about manual therapy modalities. I didn’t even know this was something I could do – use my hands to quickly inspire and invite change in a patient’s body.
Better yet, the speaker had a gazillion acronyms behind his name. I soon learned that having PT, DPT behind my name wasn’t enough.
I could also have a specialty board certification, and multiple other certifications that showed just how worthy and important I was.
As a student, I was (and still am) someone who is quite gifted and talented and multidimensional and curious. I was someone who was probably going to learn and do all those things and get these certifications and credentials whether they came with letters or not. It has never been about the letters.
But the more I hung around people, attended conferences, and worked in practices and offices where you weren’t allowed to breathe the same air as your colleagues if you didn’t have a billion letters behind your name … the more pressure I felt to conform to the race for bottomless alphabet soup.
So, on June 26, 2009 when I finally passed my first licensure exam – I proudly posted on every social media account that I was now Dr. Julie Granger, PT, DPT, PMA-CPT (those last 6 letters indicate I am also a Pilates teacher)
Three years later, I was working out after work on the elliptical when I opened my email and saw that I was now the proud bearer of three more letters: SCS (Sport Certified Specialist).
This one was a super hard, but super optional exam to take. I didn't have to do it. But now I was seen as an expert in sports medicine.
This one earned me recognition and a very special fancy ceremony at the national conference.
I also learned that if I wanted to share my wisdom at the same national conference as a speaker, it was preferred I have these letters behind my name.
Subtext: I’d made it.
Now I was Dr Julie Granger PT, DPT, SCS, PMA-CPT.
Now I was really really REALLY legit.
Eventually I added Women’s Health Coach (WHC) and NASM-YES (Youth Exercise Specialist) and dry needling certificaiton (I don’t remember the actual letters) and kinesiotape certified (CKTPT)
Whew, are you keeping up?
Are there any letters left in the alphabet that I didn’t have?
It’s basically the equivalent of taking one’s CV and listing it out next to your name saying “She with the most letters WINS! Everyone else? Piles of dog poo. Don’t waste your time with them.”
The funniest part of all of this is that the only people to whom the bottomless alphabet soup means anything -- are PTs themselves.
Notice how I had to define for you what each of these alphabet soup things meant. You might have shrugged and said "cool" and then gone about reading, not really fazed by it.
It's not like you walk around constantly taking inventory of everyone's credentials that you encounter. And if you do, it might say more about you than it does about them.
When you go to the hospital, does your physician walk in with a nametag that lists every course and certification they’ve taken?
No. Because they know what they’re good at, they are confident (sometimes overly confident, but that’s another blog for another day), and they are here to get the job done, not try and impress you and sell you on how good they are before they even help you.
The same goes for just about every other medical profession. You might read up on someone’s website where they went to school and what additional qualifications they have.
But even then, if they can’t make an empathetic and emotional connection with you, if they don’t seem to hold space for you, if they gaslight or discount your symptoms – you’re not going back.
It doesn't matter how many letters are behind their name if they don't treat you with respect and dignity.
It’s absolutely not an unspoken secret in the PT profession that the race for bottomless alphabet soup is fruitless at best. Nobody gets it or cares about it outside of the silo of the profession itself.
The war that’s waged on anything anti-PT (see point #4, above) is simply turned inward with the bottomless alphabet soup race.
You’re either as good as me if you have as many or more letters than me, or you’re worthless and unworthy of signing your name in a patient’s chart if you have fewer.
And if you have fewer letters than me, give me all of your patients, because you don't know what you're doing.
We all know it’s your ability to deliver and provide compassionate care that matters the most. We all know that bottomless <alphabet> soup belongs at Olive Garden, not in a professional setting.
And yet the race continues – masquerading as excellence, or “elevating the profession.”
Young, impressionable PTs continue to be fed the same kool-aid, continue to stress and panic over sitting in test centers for 6 hours to get a specialist certification, continue to proudly proclaim on social media their new certification, just like I did.
They believe they’ll be more respected, paid more, and have more doors open for them with all those letters. They believe they'll feel more confident, more legit, more worthy of having a seat at the table.
And then they become disenchanted when they realize that none of these grand visions happened.
They feel worthless when they see that their worth isn’t defined by a set of letters or credentials.
That no matter how hard they strive to get more and learn more – it doesn’t earn them more happiness inside the profession. No, they simply become disenchanted, exhausted, and lose touch with why they came into the profession in the first place.
Burnout has entered the chat.
The secret to a fulfilling and burnout-proof career is to know that confidence and joy in your work doesn't come from letters behind your name, someone granting you permission to sign your name, or winning the alphabet soup race.
True fulfillment comes from those moments when you pass a tissue to a patient who just admitted something to you they've never told anyone else.
From the joy that comes from seeing a patient swim or walk or play again when they never thought they would.
I’m not saying that you don’t deserve to earn and flaunt your degrees and credentials.
I’m not saying that you shouldn’t call yourself “Doctor.”
These are all things you sank your life and energy and heart into. Own them. Flaunt them.
But don't hang your hat on them as the thing that will declare that you've made it.
Whether you have two letters behind your name or two hundred and twenty two – you are equally worthy of helping people change their lives.
You are just as skilled and expert at helping people move forward if you're a new grad or someone who's been at it for 45 years.
And if you’re considering a course or certification that promises you’ll have letters behind your name – and the allure of that is what pushes you over the edge to sign up ... I invite you to listen to that allure. Sink in.
Especially when your heart, your husband, or your boss says “it’s really not a great idea to pay for one more course” or "You'd rather spend that weekend at home with your kids"
It’s ok to notice that the cheap high will fade that comes with the letters, if the cheap high ever came at all.
It's ok to stop paying into the cash cow of recertification, especially if you realize the certification didn’t change your life at all, didn't change your patients' lives, and you’re already as worthy as you ever could be, just as you are– letters or not.
Signed, Dr Julie Granger, PT, DPT – who let all of her other certifications lapse and expire – yes, even the ones I sank thousands of dollars and years of my life into. Do I still take courses and certifications? Yes. Do I need the letters to prove I'm good enough? Absolutely not.
Truth #6: Being everything to everyone is not a winning PR strategy
I remember getting to PT school – knowing with certainty on day 1 that I wanted to specialize in sports medicine, helping swimmers and young athletes return to or stay in their sports.
This never changed or faltered. And if I ever went back, this is likely what I would do again. Big fan. Huge.
I was so “eyes on the prize” with this goal, that it wasn’t until PT school that I learned PT spanned so many other specialty areas.
And I found this SO REWARDING. I’ve mentioned I’m the multidimensional type who just loves learning and growing into new passions for the sake of doing it. Because #nerdclub. I loved my acute care and neuro rotations. I loved learning about and helping people with amputations. I loved speaking Spanish to underserved populations in Texas.
I loved seeing how 40 of my classmates could spend 3 years together – sharing blood sweat and tears to get those magical letters behind our names – to then go in such divergent directions in the ways we served others within the profession.
But once I was out in the real world, and I started introducing myself to strangers as a PT – I started to see that Houston, we have a problem.
Literally nobody other than PTs themselves could define “PT” with any accuracy.
They’d respond by saying something along the lines of:
Oh yea! A PT just came over to my grandma’s house to teach her how to get on and off the toilet after her stroke. Is that what you do?
My knee hurts. What is that? What stretches can I do?
Like Pain and Torture, right? After my shoulder surgery, my PT had it OUT for me.
Oh cool so like do you work in a hospital or something?
I didn’t know PTs worked in hospitals!
Wait, KIDS need PT? Aren’t kids all pretty healthy and active?
You put your fingers where in people? Is that legal? Do people find it kinky?
I don’t really believe in PT. I just find exercises on TikTok and they’ve helped me a lot.
My surgeon told me I needed PT but I think it’s a big scam so I just see the chiropractor and my personal trainer instead.
If you’re a PT reading this, you could probably insert any other million phrases the general public says to you about their understanding of PT.
PT as a profession is so vast and so wide and has so many subspecialties that it has a major public relations problem.
For the nearly two decades I’ve been officially part of the profession (side note, holy cow. I just said two decades) – this hasn’t changed, despite the PR powers that be trying their darndest to find a message to unify everyone.
One tactic they’ve deployed is the war on anything Non-PT. See Truth #4 for a summary of this. This mostly gets PTs themselves all riled up, and gets everyone who isn’t a PT pretty annoyed at all the righteousness exuding from the profession.
So that doesn’t seem like a winning PR strategy.
Then there’s the people pleasing, "gotta be everything to everyone" tactic.
Got knee pain? We’ve got you. Got a stroke? We’ve got you. Born premature? We’ve got you. All in one building.
But also, we want to prevent you from needing us when you’re hurt or you have a problem – so we’re also here when you feel perfectly fine.
We’re here for every day of your life.
You should basically just move in with us, because we’re really good at pointing out all the problems you have in your life and making you believe that you need to fix them all or you're going to fall into a dark abyss and not be able to climb out.
If you’ve studied PR and marketing even for a second – you know that brands that try to be everything to everyone become commodified and cheapened.
It’s Walmart (...Target if you’re fancy) – a little of something for everyone at a perceivably low cost.
And when you try and boil down their brands to really identify what problem they help you solve – it comes down to “helps you in a pinch, keeps the cost low, and sends you home with an extra throw pillow you didn’t ask for.”
Translation: Helps you when your physician says you need it or when you’re desperate, agrees to let you use your insurance so you don’t have to pay for it, and then points out all the other problems you didn’t ask us to help you with and recommends you keep coming back for more.
And yes, there are those who go into private, cash-based practice, who do a much better job of defining what they do as an individual provider or practice. The more they do this, the more they’re able to justify charging more for specialized services.
You can buy cheap, mass produced furniture at Target. And while you're there, you can also get an Icee and lip gloss and toilet bowl cleaner.
Or you can go to the boutique down the street that specializes in handmade modern furniture, sources its wood from the local forest, and hands you a glass of wine as you decide between types of desks for your office.
Which brand feels more clearly identifiable to you and your values? This is what I’ve helped private practice owners do in their marketing for years.
The private practices and healthcare systems that do a great job with their PR usually do this by distancing themselves from the language that the PT profession drilled into their heads.
The most successful private practice owners don’t talk about what PT is or isn't. They don't talk about what all the other professions are doing and why you should only choose a PT to help you with all of your problems.
They talk about what YOU need, what you value, and the problems they help YOU solve in YOUR life.
In short, they stop trying to be everything to everyone, and they stop the war on anything perceivably anti-PT.
They figure out what they're good at, stay in their lane, and own their corner of the PT world.
But what does that leave for the PR of the profession as a whole?
It leaves a diluted, confusing message that lacks substance and a true identity.
I'm not saying every PT or the profession as a whole has to choose ONE niche, ONE kind of patient, ONE specialty -- and go with that.
FFS no. You get to be multidimensional.
But in your multidimensional approach - there is still a thru line that is centered around the people you serve and the underlying emotional problems you help them solve.
I’m not specialized in PR and branding on a public, profession-wide scale, which means I hardly understand all of the nuances of this problem, nor do I have the solution.
But I do know that in two decades, it seems that trying to be everything to everyone has resulted in a continued massive PR problem.
Unless your one of the PR people who work for the national PT organizations or the PT educational system -- I propose that the shift in PR starts with you.
You get to take charge of your own PR on a small scale. And that means taking a look at how you convey the value of your professional work to yourself and to the people around you.
You don't have to try and be everything to everyone, and you don't have to try and explain it to everyone to convince them of how great you are.
You get to do you. Own your corner of the PT world. Cheer on your colleagues. And let the rest go.
Which is what brings me to the conclusion of what has undeniably turned into a magnum opus. Sorry, not sorry.
In conclusion…
I walked away from the PT profession and at this point in my life, for the 6 reasons mentioned in this blog (plus several more) -- I won’t go back.
There are more good things about the profession than there are negatives.
I’ve spent nearly two decades discussing the good things openly. My view on the good things hasn’t changed. If you’re new here and want to read my take on the good things, reach out and I’ll direct you.
Just because these 6 dirty secrets are part of my story, they don’t have to be your truths.
If you are a PT reading this and feel that being a PT and showing up in the profession every day is right for you -- then I mean it from the bottom of my heart when I say that I’m so happy that you feel aligned and you’ve found your calling.
The profession, your colleagues, and your patients are so lucky to have you.
AND – I always thought that when I pledged allegiance to the profession and had found my calling for LIFE.
But then I changed course as I evolved. The beckoning in my heart called me in a different direction.
If that beckoning is there for you -- you also get to listen when it says “It’s time. You’re complete”
You get to do you. All day, every day. Whether you're with me or against me. I still support you ;-)
Yes, even if it seems nearly impossible to change course or leave.
Yes, even if the health insurance benefits seem too good to pass up.
Yes, even if you’re worried what your professors or colleagues might say.
Yes, even if your parents paid your way through school and will be disappointed if -- to them -- you throw away your degree. (Newsflash: you’re not throwing it away, because it's imprinted on your brain and heart and soul, and you'll still use it in ways you never imagined)
Yes, even if you haven’t paid off all your loans. Loans may feel like a prison sentence, but because you have them, you’re not actually indebted to the profession itself. You can still pay off your loans whether you’re a PT, a bus driver, a realtor, or someone who flies to the moon. The bank doesn’t care where your money comes from. ;-)
I know this is an age-old cliche that you probably heard a million times as a kid (and maybe even say to your own kids) -- but it merits repeating --
You don’t have to do what everyone else is doing simply because you have the same labels and letters behind your name as other members of the group.
If you want to be a jack of all trades – then be one.
If you want to specialize, then do that.
If you want to learn a million things because it just lights you up, then do that. But examine if you’re doing it for your own internal fulfillment or if you're doing it to chase the idea that having letters behind your name will somehow make you more worthy, whole, confident, and bring you a sense of belonging.
At the end of the day – you don’t have to be everything to everyone. Even if your BFF colleague seems to be doing that and subtly insults you when you don't operate like she is.
You don’t have to follow every other PT on instagram to “support” them. You can unfollow and retain some peace from your feed flooding you with images of everyone who seems to be killing it when you feel like you're dragging your feet.
You don’t have to show up to the conferences that feel like a big pep rally where the Gods of PT parade on stage, and droves of people line up afterward to get a chance for a selfie. Yes, even when the conference promotors flood your email list with FOMO tactics that tell you that you'll never have an opportunity like this again.
And for the love of all that is holy – if you have a vision of what’s next and your heart says “It’s time” – then it’s ok to listen.
And I get that you might feel scared and lonely and worried you’ll lose your people.
This is completely understandable.
I get that you may want to stay cozy in the cocoon for a little bit longer (even though you and I both know it’s anything but cozy).
If you’re looking for someone to have your back – even if it’s just to bounce ideas off of – I’m your girl.
If you have a vision of what could be next for you, if you know what you need to do – but haven’t done it yet – I’m happy to be a listening ear.
I’m not going to push your or convince you to move or leap before you’re ready. You are a sovereign being. You get to decide that.
If you want reassurance that you’ll be ok and life is better on the other side – you can use me as an example.
But at the same time – even though my story has a happy ending -- you can only truly gain reassurance by trusting yourself, getting up, and putting one foot in front of the other on your own path.
If you just want to be heard and known and seen – please reach out and let me know if any part of what you’ve read is tickling your heart even a little bit.
Because when we put words to our truths – even if they’re deep and dark and scary and bring with them grief and fear – it opens the door to more LIFE, more ALIVENESS.
And sometimes that’s all it takes, because with aliveness comes courage and self honor.
I’m here – with wide open arms, ready to listen.
Thanks for listening to my story with wide open arms. It’s an honor and a privilege to still call myself a physical therapist, and it’s an honor and a privilege to know that having the label of the thing is not a binding contract to DO the thing.
No, with that label comes the privilege of choice. You can choose to switch specialities, switch offices, switch professions, or switch from employee to business owner at any time.
Even if you’ve sunken so much time and heart and energy into something.
It’s ok to let it go, or bring it along and let it inform your next chapter.
I can’t wait to see what’s in my next chapter (which I’m announcing VERY soon).
And I can’t wait to cheer you on in yours.
Be sure to hit me up in a message or email and let me know if any of this blog spoke to you!
With love,
Julie, Soul Story Alchemist and Truth Illuminator (The only two titles that really matter to me now)
PS If you don't want to wait for the social media algorithm to inform you of what I'm up to -- you can get instant access to my blogs, stories, and announcements by joining the email club.
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