I Hate My Job

(It’s Complicated)

Let’s put down the pitchforks—and the SSRIs—and take a breath. Yes, I hate my job about 90% of the time. And yet, I know it’s a “good” job. I’m fortunate to have it. Still, the truth is: I’m burned out.

How I Got Here

I stumbled into this career by happy accident. I had just finished my master’s in applied anthropology and was eager to break into medical research—hoping to carve out a niche that felt rewarding and impactful. My focus was on community health research, especially in underrepresented populations. That was six years ago.

Since then? Two pregnancies, a pandemic, and a major funding shift later—I’m not the same person. And neither is the job.

My career is in pediatric clinical research. I coordinate, recruit, and consent families into pediatric clinical trials—covering devices, drugs, and observational studies. I see very young children in critical condition every day. Many of them don’t survive. Most are the same age as my own kids.

I thought when I started this job that I could handle it.

 After all, I have experience working in mortuary archeology, and physical anthropology. To be honest when I took this job I even joked, “Finally, no more dead people—I get to work with the living.”

The universe had other plans.

The things I love about my job are numerous.

I feel horribly conflicted about my strong disparages towards my job… but with my last pregnancy I realize that I just can’t do this work anymore, and I’m not sure I’m hirable anymore.

I love the flexibility my job offers, every day is different. I never know when I wake up if I’ll have a family to approach for research or not. It used to be exciting, now after six years of always being on-call I dread my phone going off. I used to love the unknown element that came with my day… now I would love some stability… a reasonable idea when I’ll need to be in office and what that will look like. Every time I have to schedule an appointment or vacation, I must block myself out… I can’t just schedule a lunch dentist appointment or a yoga class.

I enjoy not being tied down to a desk for eight hours a day. Sometimes I get to work from home, sometimes I work on the floor at the hospital, sometimes I work in my office. The amount of drop-down spaces I have access to in the hospital is numerous! This also means that I have to pack everything with me… computers, study devices, blood tubes, my purse, lunch, pump bag. It’s exhausting to constantly have to bring the kitchen sink with me everywhere, I find that I just want to come in and camp out all day or work from home all day at my computer.

I used to be excited to talk to families, nurses, doctors, lab managers other research personnel. Even two years ago I looked forward to talking to people all day, and now I want nothing more than to be a screenname. I don’t want to sus out how a families child drowned or was run over by car. I don’t want to be confronted by doctors who don’t remember the inclusion exclusion criteria. I don’t want to feel like I’m ordering nurses on how to draw samples. I don’t even want to commiserate with other research staff about the never ending work that comes with each enrollment. Some days it feels like I’m the only adult in the room… and I have to step in. Acting my wage could be dangerous, acting my wage could cause regulatory issues.

So, what do we do when we hate our job?

 A job that provides health insurance, student loan forgiveness, that is family friendly. No freaking clue, but here are the things that I’ve tried.

• Structure Your Day Like Your Sanity Depends On It

I reorganized my calendar to give my day structure. I start and end at my home desk, where I answer emails and set intentions. Then I make my “rounds” depending on the day. I’ve carved out small windows for appointments or emergency kid pickups—without feeling guilty.

• Protect Desk Time

Every day, I block off two hours for pure desk work—no recruiting, no calls. Just me and my to-do list. I also take “work-cations,” where I turn off recruitment duties and deep-dive into projects. Yes, I use an away message that says I’m unavailable. This day has become coveted, to the point it plan it out months in advance.

• I gave myself permission to decline networking opportunities.

They started feeling less validating and more… triggering. Instead, I catch the recordings on 1.5x speed and check in with colleagues I actually trust. Low-effort, high-value connection.

• Grieve When You Need To

You can’t reframe the death of a child—but you can give yourself time to process it. When it happens, I adjust my schedule and take an afternoon off. It doesn’t fix everything, but it helps me return with a little more steadiness.

I know this isn’t a how to with a hopeful positive promising to fix your angst. If you’re still reading you’ve probably tried all these things and more and are looking for what’s next.

Here’s the tough love.

1.  Find a therapist.

I am the worst at this, I hate talking to a therapist. I have had several through the years and just keep ghosting them when it feels pointless. I know that my job hating angst is exasperated by the dichotomous relationship of having a career and being a mom. I at the same time feel that having a career is a selfish luxury and it is necessary to provide the life I want my kids to have. This hasn’t been helped by two pregnancies and postpartum seasons.

• Be Honest With Your Supervisor.

I use quarterly check-ins to talk about how I want this job to evolve. I focus on how my strengths could support meaningful change. I’ve had jobs where shaping my role wasn’t even an option—and I left them.

• Find Tiny Professional Joy.

 Professional joy doesn’t have to be big. It can be a favorite font, a new pen, a cute sticker set. It might be mentoring or joining the office social committee. Whatever brings a flicker of joy—follow that.

• Start the job search, go for that crazy career shift.

The job market is shit. I’ve been searching for years and still haven’t left. It’s hard when bots overlook your resume, or when listings turn out to be scams. My only advice? Talk to recruiters. Fact-check everything

• Save up and QUIT.

Nuclear option I know, but hear me out: if you’re emotionally fried, physically declining, and feel yourself slipping below baseline competence… it might be time. Sabbatical, restart, whatever you call it—consider betting on yourself.

Yes, this is extremely difficult when you have kids or dependents, I hear you. Yes, this is also a risk for your resume.

Most of us in the workforce will retire in our 70’s (if ever) … if we live that long. We only get one go at this, why not bet on yourself and make a risky choice for your own “selfish benefit”.

Parent Yourself into a Better Reality

Hating your job is hard. Hating it while raising kids and managing a household? Even harder. It’s draining, disorienting, and deeply lonely. But while we may not be able to change the workplace culture overnight, we can change ourselves.