After more than thirty years in senior international management roles, I began to feel something I had never expected to feel so strongly: I no longer wanted the life I had worked so hard to build.
It was not that the work had lacked meaning. Much of it had been stimulating, challenging and deeply rewarding. But over time I found myself increasingly weary of organisational bureaucracy, innovation which just felt like continual restructuring, and the relentless pace of senior leadership life. I was tired in a way that felt more than physical. Looking back now, I can see that I had begun a psychological transition long before I formally resigned.
The decision to leave did not happen suddenly. For months I carried an internal conversation about whether it was finally time to step away. During a summer holiday, I told my husband I did not want to discuss work at all. On the final day, he asked me how I was feeling. Without hesitation, I heard myself say: “I think I need to leave.”
What surprised me was not the clarity of the answer, but how quickly I recognised it as true.
Once I had made the decision, I approached my departure thoughtfully. I planned the timing carefully, worked with my organisation to allow a smooth handover, and gave myself the psychological space I sensed I would need to let go of such a significant professional identity.
This transition felt very different from earlier career changes. I knew I did not want another full-time organisational role. Yet I had no clear vision of what would come next.
That uncertainty was uncomfortable.
Like many people who have spent decades in demanding professional roles, I had internalised the belief that productivity and worth were closely connected. The idea of not working felt strangely unsettling, almost morally questionable. I realised how deeply many of us are shaped by the assumption that we should always be striving, progressing and achieving.
To help me navigate the final stages of leaving, I hired a coach. The coaching helped me recognise that I was not simply leaving a role. I was detaching from an identity: colleague, leader, decision-maker, salaried professional. It also helped me give myself permission not to have a fully formed future plan before resigning.
That proved enormously important.
Rather than rushing immediately into another career path, I decided to take six months away from work entirely. For the first time in decades, I allowed myself to rest properly. I travelled, walked, reconnected with friends, learnt new things and rediscovered interests that had long been crowded out by professional responsibilities.
To my surprise, I adapted far more easily than I had feared.
I missed colleagues and aspects of organisational life, but I also felt an extraordinary sense of liberation. Gradually, I felt myself shedding an old identity and becoming more open to new possibilities.
At the same time, ideas about future work quietly began to emerge. I knew I still wanted purposeful work, but perhaps in a different form: consultancy, charity work, evaluation, or something else entirely. I began exploring possibilities without forcing myself towards immediate certainty.
One conversation unexpectedly changed everything.
My husband asked whether I would speak with a younger colleague who felt deeply dissatisfied in her work. We met for coffee. I listened carefully as she described her frustrations and uncertainties. By the end of the conversation, something had shifted for her. She began to see a different path — one that felt more aligned with who she was rather than who others expected her to be.
What struck me most was not that I had given advice. I had not. Instead, through listening and thoughtful questioning, I had helped someone uncover clarity within herself.
I left that conversation energised in a way I had not felt for years.
For the first time, I seriously considered coaching.
At that stage I knew very little about the profession. I began researching training programmes, speaking to experienced coaches, attending professional events and immersing myself in the field. Gradually, I began to understand both the possibilities of coaching and what my own background could bring to it.
Starting a new profession later in life was both exciting and daunting. There was a long period when I invested far more time and money in training and building the business than I earned in return. I had to develop entirely new skills — coaching, marketing, business development, networking and learning how to live with uncertainty after decades of salaried employment.
But slowly, the pieces began to come together.
Over time I built a coaching practice working with professionals across higher education, the public sector and business. Eight years later, I remain deeply grateful that I made the transition.
Not because self-employment is easy. It is not.
But because the work feels aligned with who I am.
Reflections on Career Transition
Looking back, several lessons stand out that may help others contemplating significant career change.
1. Major transitions begin psychologically long before they happen externally
Often we know something is no longer sustainable before we are ready to admit it fully to ourselves. The emotional transition may begin months or even years before any formal decision is made.
2. Leaving work often involves an identity shift, not simply a role change
When we leave long-term professional roles, we are also leaving communities, routines, status and familiar versions of ourselves. Recognising this can help explain why transitions can feel emotionally complex and take a long time even when they are chosen freely.
3. Giving yourself permission not to know and time out are important
Many professionals feel pressure to have a complete future plan before leaving. In reality, clarity often emerges gradually through experimentation, reflection and often only after we have fully relaxed and recharged our batteries.
4. Experimentation matters more than overthinking
It is very difficult to think yourself into an entirely new future. Trying things, speaking to people, volunteering, researching and testing possibilities often reveal more than prolonged analysis alone.
5. Self-employment brings both freedom and uncertainty
After decades of salaried employment, becoming self-employed can feel liberating. The transition from salaried to self-employed requires much more of a focus on business development than expected.
It can also require resilience, adaptability and a willingness to tolerate ambiguity.
Over the coming months, I will continue writing about career transition, drawing both on my own experiences and on many years coaching senior professionals and academics navigating periods of significant change.
If this resonates, I would be very happy to arrange a complimentary chemistry conversation to explore whether coaching could support your future. Do arrange a complimentary clarity call LesleyHaymanLimited@gmail.com
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Lesley Hayman Executive Coach 