Please welcome guest blogger, Dr. Julie Kellogg. Julie is a third-generation dentist as well as a certified professional coach, writer, investor, dog mom, skier and shoe aficionado. She lives in Walla Walla, WA with her two dogs, Mochi and JoJo. Her 5G coaching combines coaching and travel for achievers who want to get out of their head and into their senses. You can find that along with her travel blog and texture library at travelwithtexture.com

Enjoy this two-part blog post where Julie shares her story in the first one and what she did about it in the second post.

Can You Hate Your Work and Still be Good?

I was dreading the appointment to insert tooth #31 crown. I was afraid the patient would be discouraged and upset with me, afraid his cracked tooth might still have nagging sensitivity—and afraid of the potential conversation I might need to have. Unease settled in the pit of my stomach and knotted in my throat.

My patient

My patient had suffered from a horrible Covid-19 infection and spent several days in the hospital fighting for his life. Many months later, he is struggling to fully recover his strength and especially his lung function.

Preparing the crown on tooth #31 was a challenge. With all the water and air in the back of the mouth, he needed frequent breaks to cough and catch his breath. He tried to be a cooperative patient, but the struggle and the effort was exhausting for both of us.

We got through the procedure; however, I felt awful for how hard it was. I was wearing the burden of his experience like a bulky, poor-fitting winter coat.

As I entered the treatment room on the crown delivery appointment, my patient was engaged in a conversation with my assistant. He turned to me and said, “I was just saying to your assistant that you are the best dentist I have ever had. My wife and I agreed that you are better than any dentist we have ever seen before. When we retire and move, we don’t know how we will get our dentistry taken care of.”

My jaw dropped behind my mask. This was not the conversation I was anticipating.

I thanked him for the kind, generous compliments and shared how relieved I was.

But my mind was spinning. How is it that I often dislike my work when I am receiving genuine compliments like this?

It felt shameful.

What do you do when you are really good at something and you hate it?

An underlying tone in healthcare is that if you have the education and the skill, it is your duty and obligation to take care of your fellow humans, at the expense of your own needs and dreams.

It is also assumed that if you are good at your skillset and specialty, then you must love your career.

This often creates a secret mental and emotional burden for many practitioners, even while we deeply care for our patients.

If you even hint at changing career paths, you are questioned, badgered, guilted, and overall made to feel like a horrible human being.

I am currently working towards significantly reducing my clinical schedule. Recently, one of my supply reps asked me, “WHAT would you do if you were not doing dentistry?” Ouch! It didn’t feel like a curious question. It felt like a doubtful, judgmental question.

For me, this journey of being a really good dentist who dislikes being a clinical dentist still continues 17 years into practice. I don’t have all the answers. IT IS hard to walk away when you are both good at it and often really dislike it.

What did you know about a career in dentistry when you chose the profession?

Maybe you had a family member who was a dentist or dental hygienist. Perhaps you really liked your childhood dentist or the dentist you job-shadowed. Or you could have had a college counselor who thought dentistry would be a good fit for you.

As a third-generation dentist, you would assume I would have known everything there was to know about a career as a dentist. I had small office chores as a child that, over the years, grew into being a dental assistant and learning basic lab skills during college. 

I had seen all the typical general dentist procedures. I knew the responsibilities of being a dental practice owner. I witnessed the stresses of managing a dental team and handling difficult patients. I also knew the life-changing joys of restoring broken teeth, relieving pain, and delivering a smile makeover.

I have spent nearly every day of my life in a dental office.

Through college, I worked hard and maintained excellent grades. I got early acceptance to my father’s alma mater and arrived at dental school a little scared but on top of my game.

The beginning of second year when we started typodont crown preparations in our lab mannequins, I knew it was a terrible mistake.

I hated it!

It was a struggle to achieve even a decent looking crown preparation. I cried, as I dreaded every single day that I had to pick up that handpiece. I voiced my frustration to my parents and my mentor; and I shared my doubts with my recruitment lady.

The thought of leaving dental school crossed my mind. But I am not a quitter!

So, I suffered through my dread, my dislike, and my ugly emotions. I didn’t quit and I tried my best. Inside, I felt awful.

After graduation, I joined the family practice with my dad and uncle. One of the first crown cases my dad passed over to me was tooth #2 on a super nice patient. At the end of the day, I showed him my final impression.

He told me I would need to call the patient back and make some revisions to the preparation. It wasn’t good enough. In my frustration, I told him I hated crowns and never wanted to do them ever again.

But because I am stubborn and I had this wonderful opportunity with my family, I persevered. I told myself that if I could survive five years, it would get easier.

I got better, but it didn’t get easier.

I convinced myself that I had to do dentistry for 10 years before I could quit. This, in my mind, was the minimum time to prove that I wasn’t quitting because I sucked.

My father was a very meticulous dentist. He was beloved by his patients. He managed risk well. Under his tutelage, I became an excellent dentist.

And yet, I still dreaded most clinical days.

Many mornings, I would dry heave over the bathroom sink. I could hardly choke down breakfast. The end of the week couldn’t come fast enough and on Sunday, the dreaded knot in my stomach would return.

My patients loved me, and I took great care of each one of them. But I was stressed and was not enjoying myself at all.

Let’s be clear. I didn’t have any of the responsibilities of practice ownership, and I had the full support of my family and team.

I was living the golden ticket and I hated it. I felt so guilty for hating it.

See part 2 here, as Julie shares what she learned from being good at a job she didn’t love.