"Don't misunderestimate me."
At 28, I took the job my colleagues laughed at. Here's the career it led to.
When I was 28, I’d invested 10 years of training after high school to become a physician, only to discover I didn’t cope well with sleep deprivation and was far better suited to the office than the hospital.
I was embarrassed to admit it and scared because I didn’t know what else to do with my life. I didn’t want to stop being a doctor. I just needed to make my career work for me, and for my new family.
Peers and colleagues made fun of me, to my face and behind my back. When I had a chance to take a days-only job in an outpatient clinic (long before that was a thing), people said, “I thought only bad doctors did that.”
I knew I had to make a change, and I set out to prove them wrong.
Once I took that day job, for the first time in years, I rested well, enjoyed what I was doing, and had room in my life for everything else. I was happy. And I realized I had the courage to make a change that served me.
That decision set me on a trajectory that flouted nearly every expectation I’d been handed, yet was exactly right for me. The decisions that followed didn’t get more conventional.
I moved from that day job to a mid-level administrative position at my alma mater. When I told my boss at the clinic, he said, “But you’re not qualified for that role.” Turns out the folks at the new job thought I was, and I made the leap.
I returned from a two-year leave as an interim senior leader, credentials in hand, commuter marriage intact. The leave came with my manager’s blessing. The long-distance arrangement across several states was our choice. We navigated it, and it paid off.
What the people at my alma mater couldn’t see: I was ready for something permanently aligned with what I’d trained to do. After 18 months in the interim role, a better-fit permanent position came calling. “We didn’t think you’d ever leave,” they said. I’d known for a while.
Twice in my career, I worked for genuinely toxic leaders. Both times, I left on my own terms and found something more meaningful in a healthier environment. Each time, I found my way back to work that felt like mine. (More on how to make a similar shift — here.)
Twice I was being mentored, sponsored, and pointed toward the next rung on the career ladder: once as a department chair, once as a dean. Both times, for personal reasons grounded in my own priorities and well-being, I stepped back. Both times, I was relieved the moment I made the decision. A clear signal I’d gotten it right.
My first executive coach, after years of working together, said: “Have you ever thought about becoming a coach? It’s the part of every job you’ve ever had that you loved most. And you’re good at it.” I took a long time to decide. Then I followed her counsel. I now make my living as a full-time executive and career coach. The only boss for me is me.
I’ve built a career I’m proud of: family physician, entrepreneur, coach. Every pivot made the next one feel more possible.
I love running a successful business. Coaching is my second healing profession, and I’ve loved both.
If this story has a moral, it’s a George W. Bush spoonerism: “Don’t misunderestimate me.” I’m likely to keep making decisions that don’t make sense to others, decisions that let me and the people I love thrive.
This is part of a small collection I’m sharing ahead of the launch of More Than Work, my new newsletter for professionals at every career stage figuring out what comes next. If what you read here resonates, the newsletter is more of this, every week. I’d love to have you on the list.