Just Another City - A Different Perspective

Recently, my family spent some time in New York City because my youngest had the opportunity to participate in a special dance session. My husband and I had never taken our girls there before, and we thought this would be the perfect chance for them to experience something new.

We both remember our first trips to New York vividly—Times Square, the bright lights, the sheer diversity of people, the history, the theater. It felt electric. Transformative. We were sure our girls would feel the same way.

Night out on Broadway

They didn’t.

They were completely underwhelmed.Too many people.Too much smoke.Too much noise.

They did enjoy the history and the theater, but overall? It was just… a lot. And not in a good way.

At first, we were honestly a little dumbfounded.

And then it hit us.

When my husband and I first visited New York, we hadn’t already had the range of experiences our kids have had. Even though we both lived in cities ourselves, we had primarily experienced our cities—our routines, our rhythms, our familiar environments. New York represented something different, something expansive.

For our kids, it didn’t.

It was just another city.

Their experiences shaped how they saw the world—and we had completely forgotten that. They had a completely different perspective.

This is a lesson I find myself relearning over and over again in a very different context: training residents in medicine.

The residents I work with did not experience the version of healthcare I trained in.

They didn’t experience a pre-pandemic system.They didn’t train in a culture where showing up sick, burned out, or depressed was expected—and praised.They didn’t internalize the same unspoken rules about silence, endurance, and self-sacrifice at all costs. They have a completely different perspective.

And if I’m being honest, that difference can sometimes trigger a quiet resentment.

Why can’t they just suck it up?Why does this feel so hard for them?

But the truth is—they were never shaped by a system that taught them to ignore their own wellbeing.

They weren’t taught that exhaustion was a badge of honor.They weren’t taught that boundaries were weakness.They weren’t taught that pushing through was the only option.

And maybe that’s not a flaw.

Maybe that’s information.

So the real question isn’t whether they should toughen up to match the system we came from.

The question is: How do we reset and reevaluate through the eyes of people who never knew that system—and shouldn’t have to?

And just as importantly: Which lessons from the past are worth carrying forward, and which ones are traps we cannot afford to repeat?

Because if we’re not careful, we’ll confuse tradition with truth.We’ll mistake survival for success. And we’ll unintentionally recreate the very conditions that burned so many of us out.

This moment—this generational shift—is uncomfortable.It asks us to grieve what we endured.It asks us to examine what we normalized.And it asks us to lead differently than we were led.

But it’s also an opportunity.

To build a version of healthcare that doesn’t require people to break themselves in order to belong.To model boundaries instead of just talking about them.To teach resilience without glorifying suffering.

New York wasn’t magical for my kids because it didn’t represent discovery—it represented familiarity.

And maybe that’s what we’re seeing in medicine right now.

A generation that sees clearly what we once accepted without question.

The challenge—and the responsibility—is deciding what we do with that clarity.

What This Changing Perspective Means for Healthcare Leaders and Educators

If you’re in a leadership or teaching role, this moment matters more than we often acknowledge.

When our trainees, colleagues, or team members respond differently than we would have, it’s tempting to see that as fragility or lack of commitment. But more often, it’s a difference

in conditioning—not capability.

Here are a few leadership questions worth sitting with:

Are we judging people for not tolerating what should never have been tolerated?

Endurance is not the same as effectiveness. Just because we survived something doesn’t mean it was healthy—or that it deserves to be repeated.

Are we mistaking unfamiliar values for lack of professionalism?

Prioritizing mental health, boundaries, and flexibility doesn’t signal disengagement. In many cases, it signals clarity about sustainability.

Are we teaching resilience—or rehearsing self-abandonment?

Resilience should expand capacity, not require erasure. If the lesson is always “push through,” we shouldn’t be surprised when people burn out or leave.

Are we leading from nostalgia or from reality?

The system has changed. The workforce has changed. And pretending otherwise only widens the gap between leaders and the people they’re trying to support.

This doesn’t mean everything from the past was wrong.

There are lessons worth keeping—professional pride, responsibility to patients, teamwork, purpose. But those values don’t require chronic exhaustion, silence, or self-neglect to survive.

Leadership in this era requires translation.

It means recognizing that what once felt “normal” may now feel unacceptable—and asking whether that discomfort is actually data.

It means modeling the behaviors we say we value: taking time off, setting boundaries, asking for help, naming limits.

And it means letting go of the idea that suffering is the price of belonging.

A Moment to Pause

If this reflection resonated, it may be a sign that something in your current work or leadership role feels misaligned with the values you’re trying to live now.

My 15-Minute Alignment Check is a short, self-guided workbook designed for healthcare professionals who are feeling that tension. It helps you pause, reflect, and identify what’s out of alignment—without adding another overwhelming task to your plate.

Sometimes clarity doesn’t come from pushing harder.It comes from finally asking the right questions.