Prototyping a new identity.
For most of my working life, I was at one organisation. Fifteen years in the same place. It was comfortable. I knew the pace, the culture, the scope. And without noticing, the job became my identity.
Then, at 36, the shock. "We won't be investing in you anymore." Slower progression. A fixed ceiling. Aspirations crushed. The thing I had quietly built my sense of self around was suddenly compromised, and my world fell apart. I complained. I blamed. I grew angry.
Then one day it clicked. I stopped asking why me and started asking better questions. What can I do now? Who am I, really, beneath the title? Fifteen years had handed me an identity, and I had held onto it too tightly.
So I set about shedding the old identity and building a new one. Not by thinking my way there, but by doing.
I started a business. It grew to $150,000 in revenue. This venture was never about money. It was to learn the ropes of building something, to get comfortable with constant unknowns, and to prove to myself that reading about entrepreneurship is nothing like the act of doing it.
Then I went back to school, a Master's in Entrepreneurship and Innovation at SMU, to sharpen what the doing had taught me. And at 40, I interned at a venture capital firm specialising in deep tech. From team manager to individual contributor, assessing frontier technology I barely understood at first. It stretched me, and it opened my eyes to how fast the world is moving.
And somewhere along the way, I found coaching. What started as learning to truly listen, first to my own children, grew into a practice. Today I help others navigate the very change I had to live through myself.
None of this was a straight line. It was, and still is, a kind of prototyping. Keep doing, to learn. Keep exploring, to narrow down what I actually want. Each experiment tells me a little more about the next.
You do not think your way into a new identity. You build it, one experiment at a time.
So let me leave you with the question that started it all. Who would you be if the thing you cling to fell away?