It's Time to Tell My Story

Maybe because I just celebrated (gulp) a milestone birthday (😎), I’m thinking it’s time to share a bit more about me.

My hope is it will help, perhaps inspire, you around what might be possible for yourself in this one precious life we have.

A bit of history.

At 52, I worried I was done. That impressive-sounding job-title and role I’d held for years? Gone quicker than you can say global consulting firm.

When asked, I offered up the appropriate, pat response: “New leadership, multiple re-orgs, I took a package.”

What I didn't know at the time, but would come to learn, was this: Following a successful career, we have BIG lives still to lead. And. Big doesn’t mean more, better. It means what matters— to us.

Back to my story.

While I was officially “retired” (yes, the formal separation designation) retirement was not for me (then, and now)

News flash: Retirement is one (of 5) viable options for how we might spend our time. Ask me for my 5 Time Options one-pager!

I woke up that first Monday after the thanks-for-your-service-bye-bye deed was done, and asked myself the profound question: what the f**k am I going to do now?

The kinds of roles I’d held over my career were NOT going to be easy to secure again, and certainly NOT at my age. Gobs of younger—read: less expensive—humans coveted those corporate social responsibility roles I’d held over the past two decades. 

I tested the waters, went on the obligatory “listening tour,” and landed where so many do: consulting on the stuff I’d done for years. Yes, a few job interviews thrown in for good measure. But, when I found myself at one point challenging the nonprofit CEO a bit more than one really should in an interview (yes, she actually stopped me at one point to point this out), I concluded I’d deliberately sabotaged that situation, and a regular j.o.b. was probably NOT for me at this point in my life. 

On top of that, the consulting on work I’d done (and loved) for years felt stuck in time.

I strolled into a favorite designer-clothing boutique, dressed to the nines, I must add, and asked if they were hiring. Took the manager job, after declining the Neiman’s sales role I’d been offered. Yes, I was a clothes horse, so I’d decided I wanted to play out that passion while I figured the rest out.

In fact, the day before a different C-suite job interview, I had called up the executive recruiter and said, “Sorry I’m going in a different direction.” Yes, I was literally on a train to NYC on a clothing-buy for the boutique. Yes, I watched not-very-healthy-looking women model clothes in sizes no regular human was going to wear. Yes, I did that.

Proud-moment pause here: I did sell Carol Burnett three gorgeous, and practical (like her) jackets. Yes, I did. After I’d closed my mouth, which had dropped to the floor the moment she stepped into the boutique. 

I was discovering what happens when we pay attention to our core values, autonomy being a biggie for me. (And, yes, of course, I was privileged to have financial security on my side.)

Let me pause. Perhaps you’re jealous of my adventurous tale?

Let me share another side. Even as in the deep, dark recesses of my brain I knew I had financial security, my self-confidence was in the shitter. And, my sense of myself, my identity, was blurry beyond anything I’d experienced since my early 30’s: that world-turned-upside-down time (days, months, at least a year) following the birth of my first child.

Plus, I’d lost more than my job, and professional identity. I’d lost my people. Lots and lots of people: colleagues, people clamoring for something we offer in the roles we play, and all those people who constitute the work communities most of us become accustomed to without realizing it.

Sure, I was on that train, but I was flying solo, with odd work hours, a piddly paycheck, and a situation that was not sustainable, because I somehow felt I was wasting precious time. In those moments we learn to whom we matter, and who matters to us.

So, besides my bewildered identity and too many feeling-empty hours, days and weeks, my community was completely up in the air, save a few close friends and my husband, Peter. And, even there, my self-sense was all over the place.

I exited the boutique (the shop owner was a criminal, just saying) to a role as a strategy and ops leader for a well-regarded chamber of commerce. On day one I realized uh-oh. My spidey-sense continued to be confirmed. I promptly quit after a particularly gnarly day 2 ½ months in. It happened after the board chair had left the room following a particularly tense meeting, and I was left alone with the (horrible) CEO. I stood up from my chair and uttered these words (yes, I did): “I’m too old for this sh%t.” To be clear, an exit strategy I never recommend for those I counsel.

Well, then. We can cry, or laugh. I prefer both at the same time. In this case, when life gives us lemons, we have the option of carving off their skins and garnishing our martinis (shout-out, Maggie Shipstead).

Before taking the job, I’d been accepted into two programs for aspiring licensed therapists, a deep, long-time passion of mine, and one which made sense given I’d spent decades of time on a couch myself, and still partake.

Life happens sometimes in ways we can’t always see. Turns out my yucky experience at that chamber advising female employees somewhat desperate to escape helped me land on the answer I had sought for so many years: I was going to set up shop as a career transitions coach. The decision made great sense for me at this life-phase, rather than spending the next 7 years tracking the 7,000 hours of time I would need to become a Licensed Professional Counselor.

The rest is history, as they say. From job search practitioner to Certified Professional Coach, and my laser-focus now: coaching individuals 50+ (my tribe, after all) on when and how to pivot from long-time careers and businesses to find refreshed identity, community and purpose in new chapters.

In hindsight, the move wasn't entirely surprising. I'd started my career as a high school teacher and adjunct college professor, and helping people learn, grow, and navigate change had always been a through-line in my work. (I still become a bit of a ham when facilitating workshops and webinars. )

We’ve come full-circle here. You know my essential story. A truly lost, sometimes terrified 50-something year-old-me turned 65  this month, and owns her narrative, all of it. I’ve walked the walk, created a path forward, and try to live what I preach: a Self-Full life.

I hope my story gives you something good and spurs new thinking, no matter where you are in your career or life journey.

And, I leave you with this call to action: “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” (shout-out poet laureate, Mary Oliver)