In our world of dentistry, especially for those of us who own and run our practices, there’s an unspoken weight that we carry. We’re expected to be sharp clinicians, responsible business owners, effective leaders, and supportive mentors—all while managing the demands of our personal lives. This balancing act is relentless, often leading us to stretch ourselves thin and sacrifice our own well-being in pursuit of excellence. The pressure to stay strong for our patients, team, and families can create a hollow space within us, one that, if ignored, can lead us down a path of self-destruction.
I know this all too well. My journey began in dental school with casual social drinking. But as I juggled the demands of private practice, parenting, and providing for my family, that glass of wine at the end of the day became my solace. Over time, my drinking escalated, and I found myself trapped in a cycle I couldn’t break. Today, I’m honored to share my story not just as a call for awareness but as a beacon of hope for others in our profession who may be struggling in silence.
In a few weeks, I’ll be receiving the Humanitarian of the Year Award from the Academy of General Dentistry, a recognition I’m deeply grateful for. But for me, this journey isn’t just about accolades—it’s about reaching those who, like I once did, feel lost, overwhelmed, and unsure where to turn. If this resonates with you, know you’re not alone, and there is a way forward.
My Story with Alcohol
In dental school, I would sometimes drink with friends. It was social, just for fun, and it seemed like everyone did it. But a few years into private practice, I found myself pouring a glass of wine after work every evening. One glass became two, then it turned into a bottle. When wine no longer gave me the release I was looking for, I switched to vodka.
I could rationalize my drinking. I was carrying six-figure student loans, had just bought a practice, was raising four young kids, and was the primary breadwinner for my family. I told myself it was just a way to unwind after long, stressful days. But deep down, I knew I wasn’t just relaxing—I was escaping. I’d become dependent on how alcohol numbed my stress, filling a void I hadn’t seen coming.
After a while, I realized I couldn’t keep going like this. I tried setting boundaries with myself: only wine, no vodka; only on weekends; maybe just one or two drinks. But the promises never lasted. Eventually, I was right back to drinking heavily, worse than before. I reassured myself I wasn’t “that bad”—I never drank before work, never had a DUI, never faced trouble with the law or in my profession. But every day, the dread grew, knowing I couldn’t end the day without pouring myself a drink or two—or several. I finally admitted to myself I needed help, but I felt trapped and paralyzed by shame.
I’d always been strong and self-sufficient, finding solutions to my own problems. But this was different. Practicing in a small town, where I knew everyone, the idea of admitting my struggle seemed impossible. I thought about rehab, but what about my practice? I was a solo practitioner—who would take care of my patients? The shame of people finding out was overwhelming. So, I kept it hidden, trying to fix it on my own.
Three more years passed. By then, I was drinking every night, feeling desperate and trapped in my own life. The guilt and shame weighed me down, and while I was terrified of losing my license, I was even more afraid of losing my life. I’d reached what’s known in addiction as the “jumping off point”—the place where you fear that continuing will kill you, but stopping feels equally impossible. With no other options, I decided to go to an AA meeting in my town, expecting to see familiar faces.
And I did. I saw patients, local physicians, realtors, attorneys—people from every background. It hit me then: addiction doesn’t discriminate; it affects everyone, from park benches to Park Avenue. When those I recognized saw me walk in, they welcomed me warmly, saying, “If you feel you need to be here, we’re happy you’re here.”
That was over 17 years ago. Since then, I’ve found healing and a renewed purpose in helping others in my profession facing similar struggles. My story, as I’ve learned, is not unique. According to the 2024 Trend Report, 58% of dentists report significant stress and career burnout. Mental health challenges, substance use disorders, and other issues are all too common among dental professionals, affecting our well-being and professional competence.
Today, I’m a passionate advocate for mental health and wellness in the dental profession. After nearly 27 years of practicing in Vermont, I moved to Portland, Oregon, where I’ve become deeply involved in well-being initiatives for dentists. In 2018, with the support of the American Dental Association, I expanded this work nationally to improve mental health awareness and access to care for dental professionals struggling with substance use disorder.
I now serve on the ADA’s Dental Wellness Advisory Council and was invited to join the first cohort of wellness ambassadors. My work includes leading wellness initiatives with the Oregon Dental Board of Trustees and expanding them to neighboring states in District 11, covering Montana, Idaho, Washington, and Alaska. I also serve on the board of the Oregon Wellness Program, which provides eight free, confidential mental health sessions for Oregon dentists. As an associate clinical professor at Oregon Health & Science University, I’ve made it a priority to mentor students on the importance of mental health and well-being.
On a national level, I’m part of the steering committee for the National Council on Dental Health Programs, where I advocate for fair and non-stigmatizing licensing board questions about mental health and substance use. Reducing stigma is crucial; too many dentists facing these challenges function at a high level, but it’s often a fragile “house of cards” that could collapse at any moment. Some are in denial, while others know they have a problem but don’t know where to turn for confidential support.
The best way to address this issue is through confidential access to mental health care. Until the stigma around mental health and substance use is reduced, many will continue to struggle in silence, burdened by guilt and shame. I believe accessible, confidential mental health services in every state are essential for both the profession and the patients we serve.
Well-Being Resources for Dentists:
- Mayo Clinic Well-Being Index: The American Dental Association provides members with access to the Mayo Clinic Well-Being Index to help dentists monitor their mental health and stress levels. You can explore the tool here.
- ADA Health and Wellness Flyer: This flyer outlines practical steps and resources specifically for dental professionals to support mental wellness. Access the PDF here.
Through my journey, I’ve turned my struggle into strength, advocating for a healthier, more supportive dental community. I hope my story can help others realize that they’re not alone and that healing and support are within reach.
