My Career Makes Zero Sense. And That's the Point.

One of the questions I've always struggled to answer is, "So, what do you do?"

Not because I don't know what I do, but because the answer has never fit into one neat sentence. Depending on when you met me, I was a Chartered Accountant, a certified coach, an Executive Assistant, an Online Business Manager, an author, a podcast host, or someone building a coaching business rooted in feminine leadership.

For a long time, I thought that made me look inconsistent. I worried people would see my career and assume I lacked focus, or worse, that I couldn't decide what I wanted. In a world that celebrates specialists, I quietly wondered if something was wrong with me for wanting more than one thing.

It took me years to realise that while my career looked like a collection of unrelated roles to other people, it never felt that way to me. Every role answered a different curiosity. Every experience taught me something the previous one couldn't. I wasn't changing direction because I was lost. I was growing.

When I qualified as a Chartered Accountant, I learned structure, discipline, and how to think analytically. But over time, I found myself becoming increasingly curious about people. I wanted to understand why some people stayed stuck while others created meaningful change in their lives. That curiosity led me to become a certified coach. It wasn't an escape from my previous career. It was an expansion of it.

Later, I found myself working closely with founders as an Executive Assistant and Online Business Manager. On paper, it looked like another pivot. In reality, it gave me a completely different perspective on business. I wasn't just watching ideas come to life. I was helping build the systems, the structure, and the day-to-day decisions that turned vision into reality. It taught me that strategy isn't only about big ideas. It's also about the quiet work that happens behind the scenes.

Alongside all of this, I wrote books because writing has always helped me make sense of the world. I started a podcast because I wanted to create conversations that reminded people they weren't alone. I continued coaching because witnessing someone believe in themselves again never stopped feeling meaningful.

For years, I searched for the common thread between all these roles because I thought I needed a better answer when people asked what I did.

Eventually, I realised I had been looking in the wrong place.

The thread was never the job titles.

It was curiosity.

Curiosity was the reason I studied finance. Curiosity led me into coaching. Curiosity made me say yes to supporting visionary founders. Curiosity inspired me to write, speak, and create. Every chapter looked different, but each one was an expression of the same desire: to keep learning, keep contributing, and keep becoming.

We're often told to find our one thing, as though success belongs to people who choose one path and never leave it. But I wonder how many people silence their curiosity because they're afraid of looking inconsistent. How many dreams never get explored because someone believes changing direction means starting over.

Maybe it doesn't. Maybe every experience you collect is adding another layer to who you are becoming.

Maybe the degree you earned, the job you outgrew, the business you started, the role you never expected to love, and the dream you're quietly holding today are not competing versions of you.

Maybe they're all introducing you to yourself.

If there's one thing my career has taught me, it's this: you don't have to have your entire life mapped out to take the next step. You don't need permission to be curious. You don't need to justify every pivot. And you certainly don't have to shrink yourself into a title that no longer fits simply because other people understand it better.

Sometimes the most meaningful careers aren't built by following a straight line.

They're built by following your curiosity, trusting that the dots will connect, and giving yourself permission to become someone your younger self couldn't have imagined.