A Love Letter to My Career
I’ve been talking to many women lately who know they’re ready for a change, but they’re worried…
They won’t be able to figure out what they want.
It will be hard on their families.
They’ll walk away from things they like in their roles and never find them again.
They’re not good at change.
I know these thoughts intimately.
This is where I was before I made my own career transition. All of these thoughts compounded my feeling of hopelessness.
They were the beliefs that made me want to prioritize my partner’s career. He seemed to have more momentum, so why not focus energies on helping him thrive while I simply maintained a career that kept us afloat financially?
In all of this overwhelm of being a working parent to two small children, there was a kernel of agency that began as an itch, moved into an ache, and then grew to flood my body with despair.
I wanted more.
And I was embarrassed to admit it.
Instead, I focused on my gratitude for two healthy children, a partner who loved me, and just enough money to live the lifestyle we wanted to live (though it didn’t feel that way at the time).
But even with all the goodness in my life, I wanted to have something of my own. To contribute to the world in some way. To wake up energized by my work and my impact.
I wanted all of that, but I didn’t know how to get through the stuckness to have it. That stuck, lost woman was and is a part of me and she was trying to get my attention. One of the most powerful ways I’ve learned to tap into what she wants over the years is to connect with her directly, to see her, to believe her.
I show her love with words, with letters that give her a space to want what she wants. At the beginning of my transition, I wrote a forgiveness letter to myself, an exercise that I now include in my career pathing process with clients. While the original version is in some journal somewhere that was no doubt, Marie Kondo’ed, here’s how I remember it so you know how to write your own letter if you so choose. You know I like to give homework!
Dear 30-something Rachel,
I’m sorry I’ve been ignoring you. You’ve been sending me signals with tears, overwhelm, boredom, tantrums, mindless eating, and insatiable devouring of the Twilight trilogy. You want more in your career, but you don’t believe you’re capable of anything else. I’m so sorry you feel that way. I’m sorry I let you believe that. We’ve survived unimaginable things together and we haven’t made it through these tragedies so you can live an “it’s fine” life. No fucking way. I want you to know, I’m listening now. We may not know what it is that’s next, but I’m open to believing there is something else and that our dreams are worth exploring.
Love,
Almost 40-year old Rachel
PS. Are you really going to make me run a fucking marathon to figure this out? Well, I’m signed up, so here goes.
Now that I’m 47 as of last week (happy belated birthday to me!) I am present to the power of addressing the hurt parts of me with compassion. I can acknowledge their pain instead of beating them into submission. Yes, I’m resilient, but I don’t always have to be surviving something. I want to be thriving.
I encourage you to write your own Career Love Letter. In this practice, you can create a space to forgive and acknowledge yourself and trust the nudges you’re getting to go for more.
I’d love to hear how it goes. Feel free to write back to this email or set up a time for a clarity call if you’re ready to honor your curiosity for what’s next.