𝗪𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗶𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝗱𝗶𝘀𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘀, 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁’𝘀 𝗹𝗲𝗳𝘁?

I left a company I’d been with for over 17 years. Long enough that my job title stopped feeling like “a role” and started feeling like part of my identity.

I joined when the business was still local and scrappy as the 12th employee. I was brought in to build a communications offering with former IBM colleagues as the business grew into new capabilities. Over time, that PR capability grew into a team of 25.

Then the scope widened. We went through acquisition in 2017 by a large independent US marketing communications group. I became Managing Partner for Singapore, led the business through COVID, integrated marketing and PR, and grew the company to its best-performing year, building the team to over 70 before the global economic slump in 2023.

And 2023 was the hardest professional year of my life, not just because of the market, but because I was also carrying personal loss and tragedy. I was trying to keep the company steady and morale up while privately in a very dark place.

When you’ve been “𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘯” to a growing team while raising two children from birth to teenagehood, your personal and professional identity can blur completely. Work becomes the place your responsibility and sense of self live.

So when I started thinking about leaving, it wasn’t just a career decision. It felt like an identity problem.

𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘢𝘮 𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘺?
𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘥𝘰 𝘐 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘦 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘭𝘦?
𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘰 𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘢 𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘥?
𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘰 𝘐 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘸?

Before I could feel excited, I had to do a stock take:
• What skills do I want to be known for?
• Who do I want to serve now, and who do I no longer want to serve?
• What outcomes have I consistently delivered?
• What outcomes do I feel confident I can deliver again?

I was tempted to rush this part because uncertainty is uncomfortable, and it’s easier to “do something” than sit with the questions. But visibility without clarity doesn’t make you more credible. It just makes you louder.

Since November, I’ve been building this next chapter without the old corporate frame around me. I needed to find my voice again without the title doing the introduction.

What helped most wasn’t a perfect plan. It was people. New communities. Conversations without a forced outcome. Connections that were generous, not transactional.

If you’re leaving a long-held role, or quietly considering it, here’s what I’ve learnt:
𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗶𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙩𝙮. 𝗜𝘁’𝘀 𝗮 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙧.

What matters next is the 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘷𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦, the value people have consistently relied on you for, and the kind of problems you want to help solve now.

That’s the real work of a second act. And it’s worth doing properly.