As I mentioned
in my last post, work stress really started taking its toll on me. For the
first few years, I was distracted by friends, a new lifestyle, and
dating. Back in dental school, most of my friends were guys. They
often shared funny dating stories and jokes about how every 28 year-old
woman wanted to get married. They were fine dating 27 year-old gals,
but those 28 year-olds were on a mission, and these guys wanted no part
in it. I laughed right along with them and made fun of how desperate
these women seemed. That was never going to be me. Well, I woke up one day at 28… and that was me.
Desperate, 28-year-old me was too busy to worry about my job.
I
was determined to do something about it, and sometimes I can be a
little obsessive about things. For me, it was not about a timeline and the
need to have something done by a certain age, but it was about a feeling
I had. I was ready. It was less about having a wedding and
being “married,” and more about finding that lucky guy to
share my life. If dentistry was my day job, finding a man was my side gig. What I’m saying is, I had a huge distraction, and I was having way
too much fun to notice my feelings about dentistry. There were bigger
fish to fry.
Eventually it happened. I met The One,
and I started this wonderful life with him. He taught me about living in the moment and being present. He inspired me to realize that happiness is more important than money. I learned from him that what
we do with every moment matters. And in some way all this helped me to
realize that I wasn’t living the life I was meant to live.
Once I got this husband thing under control, I now was forced to face the other big problem: my career.
Things
just got worse and worse as the days rolled on. I found it difficult
to find the will to get out of bed, drive to work, and walk into the
office every day. I arrived home daily, often in tears on the drive
home, with horrible stories about the day’s troubles. I complained
about it until bedtime, only to wake up at 2 a.m. ruminating over the
same stories again and again. Some weeks it was night after night,
getting only 3 hours of sleep. The insomnia was hell, and it didn't help make the next day any better.
Then
one day I finally decided I needed out. I couldn’t do this anymore. I
had a business lunch with a sales rep from a dental supply company. I
barely knew him, but we had really connected, so I felt comfortable
asking him for help. I asked Patrick if he liked his job, and if it was
something I should consider doing. I came clean about being unhappy as
a dentist, and this seemed like the only way to transfer my skills.
What else could I possibly do with such specific and seemingly limited
skills? I’m pretty sure he thought I was crazy. He talked me out of it
and helped convince me that it was the job– not the career. I agreed
that I owed it to myself to explore that. I mean, it certainly was the
responsible thing to do– and not to mention the easiest. He introduced
me to a great guy who had just opened a new practice and was looking for
an associate. When I met him, I knew that was it. This was my dental
dream job. We shared similar values and beliefs. I had found my
perfect match.
The romance wasn’t over after all, and I was eager to start living happily ever after.