How Can We Truly Care for Patients If the System Doesn’t Care Enough?

4 min read

Just now

Listen

Press enter or click to view image in full size

I’ve been asking myself a question that keeps coming back, over and over again:

How can we truly care for patients if the practitioners themselves are not cared for — or no longer able to care deeply?

Mental health is not like other fields.

You are not fixing a machine.

You are holding someone’s mind, history, trauma, and future in your hands.

And yet, we live in a system that rushes.

People are diagnosed quickly.

Medication is prescribed quickly.

Patients are moved through the system quickly.

But healing does not move that way.

I’ve seen it too many times — especially with people of color and people without money. They don’t get the same depth of care as those who are rich, insured well, or connected. Their stories are not explored deeply. Their pain is often misunderstood, minimized, or mislabeled.

Why is that?

Why do we accept a system where money determines how much care someone receives?

People of color carry so much potential.

So much intelligence.

So much leadership.

So much future.

They can become doctors, therapists, leaders, creators — someone big in life — if they are seen, supported, and believed in.

But instead, many are rushed, misdiagnosed, overmedicated, or dismissed.

And this is not only about patients.

This is also about the practitioners.

Mental health workers are human.

Psychiatrists, psychologists, social workers — they absorb trauma every single day. They listen to pain, crisis, abuse, loss, and despair. Many are burned out. Many are emotionally disconnected — not because they are bad people, but because the system does not protect their humanity.

We require degrees.

We require licenses.

We require continuing education.

But we rarely require ongoing emotional wellness.

We don’t ask:

• Are you burned out?

• Are you numb?

• Are you carrying bias you’re not aware of?

• Are you still emotionally present enough to hold another person’s life?

This is not about punishment.

This is about responsibility.

I believe mental health practitioners should have regular, healthy, supportive emotional screenings — not to shame them, but to care for them.

Because when the caregiver is supported, the patient is safer.

Right now, the rush feels driven by one thing: money.

Productivity over presence.

Speed over understanding.

Diagnosis over dialogue.

But money is not everything.

Get Clavel Polanco, MSW’s stories in your inbox

Join Medium for free to get updates from this writer.

What about quality of life?

What about preventing harm instead of cleaning it up later?

What about caring for people who could become something powerful in this world if we gave them real support?

Mental health is unique. It requires patience, humility, and self-awareness. It requires practitioners who are not only educated, but emotionally grounded, reflective, and supported.

Yes — there are practitioners who care deeply.

And yes — there are others who misdiagnose, prescribe unsafe medication, or no longer slow down enough to truly see the person in front of them.

We need to talk about this.

Not with anger.

Not with blame.

But with honesty.

If we want a healthier society, we need:

• healthier practitioners

• deeper care for people of color

• systems that value humanity over money

Caring for the caregivers is not optional.

It is ethical.

It is necessary.

It is urgent.

Because healing people requires a system that actually knows how to care.

This Is Not an Attack. This Is a Call to Care Deeper.

This is not about blaming every practitioner. I know there are many psychologists, psychiatrists, social workers, and clinicians who truly care. I see them. I respect them. And this conversation is for them too.

But we cannot ignore the truth.

Some practitioners are no longer able to care deeply, and some systems do not allow them to. When burnout, bias, pressure, and money drive decisions, patients — especially people of color and those without resources — are the ones who pay the price.

So I keep asking the question that feels uncomfortable but necessary:

How can we care for patients if we are not caring for the people treating them?

Mental health is unique.

It is intimate.

It is powerful.

A misdiagnosis can change a life.

Unsafe or rushed medication can cause real harm.

And when people are not truly seen or heard, their potential is quietly taken away.

People of color deserve the same depth of care as the wealthy.

They deserve time.

They deserve curiosity.

They deserve belief.

There is so much potential in people who are overlooked — people who, with the right care, could become leaders, healers, doctors, and changemakers. Why don’t we care enough to invest in them? Why do we rush past lives that could become something extraordinary?

This is why I believe we need to care for both the patient and the practitioner.

That means healthy, supportive, ongoing emotional wellness check-ins for mental health professionals — not to punish, but to protect. To make sure the people holding others’ lives are still grounded, reflective, and emotionally present.

Because when practitioners are supported, patients are safer.

When care is intentional, outcomes change.

And when humanity comes before money, healing becomes possible.

Money should never matter more than quality of life.