Many of us spend years searching for the right practice. As our careers begin to take shape and we find our comfort outside of hygiene school, we start to recognize the kind of dentistry and patient care we want to practice and the type of environment where we believe we can be our very best clinician. For myself, nonnegotiables that I looked for meant finding an office that reflected my values, prioritized ethical patient care, encouraged professional growth, and respected the importance of preventive care within the realm of dentistry. When I found a practice that seemed to embody those things, it felt like I had finally found my dental home.

For a long time, that was exactly how it felt. I worked alongside people I respected and loved like family, cared for patients whom I really got to know and who knew me on a personal level, and genuinely looked forward to walking into the office each day. I felt proud of the care I was providing and grateful to be part of a team that shared so many of the same priorities. Like many clinicians, I reached a point where I could easily picture myself spending the rest of my career there because everything that mattered most seemed to be in place.

A shift began in me

As time went on, I noticed something changing that I could not quite put into words. It was not that the office had become a bad place to work or had changed in any drastic way. Instead, I realized that my own perspective and outlook on my personal growth and career were beginning to shift. The more I invested in continuing education and the more time I spent learning from other clinicians outside of my own practice, the more I realized that my version of practicing was changing in ways I did not anticipate.

So many ideas and things I knew to be true and accepted without question were being challenged. Advances in technology created opportunities to deliver care differently, and conversations with colleagues exposed me to approaches I had never considered. Somewhere along the way, I realized that graduating from hygiene school had never been the finish line; it had simply been the beginning of a career that would fuel me to keep learning.

Learning new approaches and new philosophies reignited my passion for the dental hygiene profession. I felt like I couldn’t possibly learn enough. I wanted to provide the absolute best care for my patients—I wouldn’t settle for anything less. Like so many clinicians who are passionate about lifelong learning, I was eager to bring those ideas back into the operatory and continue becoming a better version of the provider I had been the year before.

I felt so lucky to be in a practice where I knew I could take these ideas and they would be welcomed with open arms. In the beginning, those conversations felt encouraging. I came away believing that growth could become part of the practice's future because there seemed to be room for new ideas.

Changing seasons

As time went on, though, those conversations became more difficult to have. Suggestions that once engaged thoughtful discussion were met with hesitation, and ideas that had once felt full of possibility gradually seemed less likely to move forward. It became increasingly clear that the vision I was developing for patient care no longer aligned with the practice.

That reality was very difficult for me because I loved everything else about the office. I respected my doctor, appreciated my team, and had built relationships and trust with patients that had grown over the years. If someone had looked at my career from a distance, they probably would have assumed I had found exactly what every hygienist hopes to find … and in many ways, they would have been right.

Because of this, I began quieting the inner conflict inside my head. I told myself how lucky I was and how I needed to be patient and understand that dentistry is a business and change takes investment. I made all the excuses to my own arguments. It was such an internal battle because these new approaches and techniques I was learning were fueling my professional growth and turning me into a better and more educated clinician, yet I felt restless that my work environment was the only thing holding me back from being able to implement that change.

There was a point where that restlessness turned into frustration and resentment. I realized that I was becoming a much different clinician than the one I was a few years prior.

I believe that this is one of the most challenging seasons in a professional career. We often assume that if we feel restless, something must be wrong. We convince ourselves that there must be some obvious reason why we no longer feel the same sense of fulfillment. Sometimes those things are true, but sometimes they aren’t. But two things can also be true. Everything that drew you to that practice in the beginning may very well still exist, but the opportunity that once felt exactly right simply no longer fits the person you have become.

That realization raises questions that rarely have simple answers. It challenges your sense of loyalty and leaves you wondering whether gratitude and growth can exist at the same time. You begin asking yourself whether wanting something different means you are being ungrateful for everything you already have or whether it simply means you have continued growing while your environment has remained the same. Those questions can make you feel incredibly lonely and be extremely overwhelming.

Having healthy conversations

For many, the easy answer is to find another office. But, before we decide that growth requires a new environment, I think we owe it to ourselves and to the people we work to have an honest conversation. These may not be the easiest conversations, but I believe that sharing what we are learning—and even voicing our desire for change—is an integral part of communication between providers. Sometimes those conversations reveal that there is still room to grow together. Other times they provide the clarity we need to recognize that our paths are beginning to move in different directions.

Before deciding whether it is time to leave, I believe there is one question worth asking first. Is there still room to grow where you are? That question changed the way I viewed my own career, and it became the beginning of a conversation that ultimately taught me far more than simply deciding whether to stay or go.

In part two of this series, I will share my personal experiences and what I learned from having those conversations. We’ll look at why the way we approach these conversation matters, and how they can reveal whether the environment around us is willing to grow alongside us.

Editor’s note: This article first appeared in Clinical Insights newsletter, a publication of the Endeavor Business Media Dental Group. Read more articles and subscribe.