The Questions That Changed the Way I Think About Career Transitions

Hi my love, can I tell you something?

I don't think career transitions are actually about careers.

From my experience, they're about permission.

Permission to admit that you've changed.

Permission to want something different.

Permission to stop pretending that the life you built five years ago still feels like home.

We spend so much time trying to make the next decision look logical that we never stop to ask whether it feels true.

And those are not the same thing.

For so many of us, our careers become proof. Proof that we're smart enough. Successful enough. Responsible enough. We wear our job titles like name tags that say, "See? I'm doing life correctly."

So when that title changes, or disappears altogether, it can feel like we've lost ourselves.

But have you? Or have you simply lost the label?

Because those are very different things.

One of the questions I always come back to is this:

If nobody was watching, what would I choose?

If your parents weren't watching.

If there was no LinkedIn to announce your next move on. (Some days, I secretly wish that were true!)

If your friends couldn't compare salaries.

If nobody could call your decision brave or reckless.

What would you choose?

Because sometimes the life we're trying so desperately to hold onto isn't even ours. It's the one we inherited. The one we were applauded for. The one that made everyone else comfortable.

Another question that changed everything for me is this:

Am I making this decision from trust or from fear?

Fear sounds very practical and smart and also logical.

Fear says, "Take whatever you can get."

Fear says, "Don't ask for more."

Fear says, "Be grateful. Don't be difficult."

Trust asks different questions.

Trust says, "What if there's something that's a better fit?"

Trust says, "What if this discomfort doesn't mean I'm making the wrong choice?"

Trust says, "What if this season isn't punishment? What if it's redirection?"

And I know. I know....

When your bank account is making you sweat and your inbox is full of emails that begin with, "Unfortunately..." trusting that everything is working out can feel almost laughable. (For the record, I currently have 67 rejection emails, and yes, most of them begin with, "We're choosing to move forward with another candidate." And yet, I've learned that circumstances don't always tell the truth. Sometimes they simply tell you where you are today, not where you're going. If I let every rejection decide what I believe about myself, I'd be handing strangers the pen to write my story. I'm just not available for that anymore.

But I also know this.

Every time I've made a decision purely because I was afraid, I've eventually had to make another decision to undo it.

Fear is expensive.

Trust asks for courage upfront.

Fear collects interest later.

Here's another question I wish more people asked.

What if nothing has gone wrong?

Seriously.

What if you're not behind?

What if you're not failing?

What if life isn't taking something away from you?

What if it's making room?

We are so quick to make uncertainty mean we've made a mistake. We make rejection mean we're not qualified. We make endings mean we've reached the end of the story.

Maybe they don't mean any of that.

Maybe they're simply asking us to stop forcing a chapter that's already over.

I think we underestimate how much energy it takes to hold onto a life we've quietly outgrown.

And maybe that's why you're tired.

Not because you're lazy or unmotivated but because you've been carrying something your soul has been trying to put down.

So here's the only question I really think matters.

Does the woman I'm becoming belong in the life I'm trying to return to?

Because if the answer is no, then perhaps your job isn't to find your way back.

Perhaps your job is to trust yourself enough to keep walking forward.

Even before you can see exactly where the path leads.

Sometimes that's the bravest career move you'll ever make.