Please welcome my next guest blogger. This dentist has a great story to share and, for now, wishes to stay anonymous. Which experiences described below do you relate to most?

People often ask, “did you always know you wanted to be a dentist?”

My answer is usually something like, “No, I did it on a whim”.

Although I haven’t heard many such admissions, I think there are dentists out there who relate. We essentially winged it, or chose dentistry for some trivial reason, owing in part to limited life experience. Add to this the inability to truly gauge how much you will enjoy dentistry until firmly established in the profession, it is no surprise that many dentists wind up unhappy.

While dentistry wasn’t initially my first choice, I knew from an early age that I wanted to be a doctor. I wanted to help people heal.

My parents, in response, poured heaps of praise on me, which sustained my efforts to perform well in school and pursue a career in medicine.

In delving into my past, I realized that certain childhood experiences influenced my efforts as well. I was raised in an alcoholic, dysfunctional family in which being shamed and held to perfectionistic expectations was the norm. Outside the home, I can recall getting bullied and publicly humiliated by the neighbor’s older kids.

To offset the shame that I had internalized from these experiences, I vowed to become a doctor, so then “everyone would respect me”.

I stuck to my vow going the pre-med route in college. Like many pre-med students, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to commit to the lengthy training that medicine required (I also doubted if I could make it through), so I explored other options.

I became attracted to dentistry for the shorter training involved and the ability to run your own practice. I imagined as a practice owner I would get respect, status, and a great lifestyle. Being my own boss, I would not have to submit to the rigid, demanding authority figures like the ones I grew up around. I acted on this expectation with little experience in the field but with the conviction that I would succeed.

I continued to ignore the nagging feeling that I was going into the wrong profession even after I’d been admitted into dental school.

I hadn’t learned yet to trust my intuition, those feelings in our bodies that tell us if we’re on the right path, and to act on it despite what people might think.

After only a semester I knew that I had made a mistake. My contingency plans, real or imagined, evaporated when I accepted a scholarship with the Navy. I had taken an oath— there was no turning back now.

As I got through dental school, I became depressed. I felt helpless, resigned to my fate. I found myself having frequent alcoholic black outs. Despite this, I managed to perform well academically. Looking back, I was pushing aside problems that weren’t going away. I had begun to seek professional help, but I wasn’t yet ready to take responsibility for my life.

Then just as I was graduating, I told the Navy I had been prescribed medication for my depression. This admission triggered a medical waiver review board. I was denied a waiver and separated from the Navy. I then scrambled to find dental work with the money I would eventually owe the Government looming over my head.

Needless to say, I felt lost, scared, and completely out of control. I continued to self-medicate my pain while trying different dental jobs: private practice, corporate, community clinic, etc. I ended up hating every one of them.

Even after several years as a practicing dentist, I felt stuck and hopeless with my career.

Finally, in the spring of 2018 I started to become responsible to myself by checking into rehab. It was humbling being the only professional type there. I could no longer hide behind my title or position; the way I was living wasn’t working. I felt relieved just to be removed from the daily grind of dentistry.

Thirty days later I was sober, but all my problems were still waiting for me when I got home. I wasn’t enjoying my career or my life. It all felt like a mind-numbing, spirit-deadening rat race. At six months sober, I couldn’t take it anymore—I was living an inauthentic life and at rock bottom with misery.

Out of desperation, I finally worked up the courage to start acting, something I’d felt called to do for years. I joined a studio and felt immediate joy getting on stage.

I could face my fears, trust my intuition, and live as I choose after all.

Not much later, the Navy contacted me after several years of radio silence. As an alternative to repaying the scholarship money, they were giving me the option to work off my commitment as a civilian dentist. This was an offer I couldn’t refuse. My desire to leave clinical practice would have to wait.

I felt a pit in my stomach, however, when I realized I would be required to obtain a security clearance. I was certain I would be denied with my recent history. I decided to be as honest as possible, letting the chips fall where they may. I would have to relocate and wouldn’t know the final decision for several months. I took the leap of faith and fortunately, got cleared. I now had real job security.

I continued to act, got an agent, and even landed some work as an actor.

I was sober but still felt isolated, drained, and depressed much of the time. I thought maybe this was as good as it gets. I was well-paid, had job security and a comparatively light schedule. Maybe I could just suck it up for twenty years until retirement? I assume if you’re reading this you’ve had similar thoughts.

Paradoxically, I had achieved what had attracted me to dentistry in the first place: lifestyle, status, and respect.

I had believed they would leave me feeling satisfied, secure, and confident; but instead I felt resentful, stuck, and hopeless. I learned I needed to go within to find satisfaction, security, and confidence first and then let them guide me to a more resonant career.

I continued to work on myself addressing childhood trauma and family dysfunction, codependency and yes, even love and sex addiction. As I did this inner work, I began to heal my shame and past hurts. I became more trusting of myself as I came to rely more on my inner guidance and strength.

As part of this process, I separated my identity from my parents, which was difficult and messy. This, I believe, has been a necessary step to changing my career since I had put pleasing them above myself.

Finally, I started to get career coaching. Over the past few months, I’ve been challenging my limiting beliefs while implementing small steps toward change.

While none of these changes happen overnight, like everything in life if you at least put one foot in front of the other, you can rest in the comfort you won’t be in the same place a year from now.