Career Change, but You Don’t Know What You Want? Start Here

There is a particular moment many people reach in their professional lives where the question is no longer how to advance, but how to know what is actually right.

You may not be unhappy in the obvious sense. You may even have built something impressive over time. And yet, something feels off.

You know you want to move. And you know you want something new. But you don’t know what.

For many, this is one of the hardest places to be. Not because there are no options, but because choosing the wrong one feels terrifying. There is a fear of starting over. A fear of failing. And often, an even deeper fear: of ending up recreating something you already know does not work for you.

I know this place well. I have stood in it myself.

After returning from maternity leave, I found myself unable to believe that the professional world I had been part of for years could still hold meaning for me. It wasn’t a dramatic decision, and it didn’t come all at once. It was more like an internal collapse of certainty, which was very hard to navigate. I knew I didn’t want to go back. But beyond that, everything felt unclear.

What I held on to, at the time, was not a clear vision of the future. It was a very clear sense of what I did not want anymore.

And sometimes, that is enough to begin.

You may be in a different place. You may simply feel restless, ungrateful even, for not being satisfied with something you’ve spent years building. You may feel like you never quite found your professional lane, or that a dream you once had is still hovering at the edges of your life, quietly asking whether you will ever take it seriously.

Or you may be someone who has built a great deal, and now finds yourself wondering whether it makes any sense at all to change direction, especially when it looks perfectly reasonable from the outside.

Wherever you are, I want to tell you this: confusion at this stage is not a flaw. It is often a signal that something inside you has already changed.

A story about knowing what you won’t reproduce

Earlier in my career, I worked for a remarkable female executive producer in the United States. She is one of those people you remember long after you’ve moved on.

She had spent many years in Los Angeles working on large, commercial productions, and she was done with the way the industry often functioned. Not with the work itself, and not with ambition or complexity — but with the boundlessness, and the quiet normalization of erosion. The way crews, freelancers, and even permanent employees were expected to stretch themselves endlessly, at the cost of their well-being.

When she moved north to Seattle to build her own production company, she was very clear about one thing. She still wanted to create work of high quality. She still wanted to take on large, complex productions. But she wanted to do it in a way where people were treated with respect.

In our early conversations, she spoke openly about her experiences in California and what had driven her to build something new. But more importantly, her values were not just articulated — they were embodied in the way she led.

She was clear in her expectations, precise in how she entrusted responsibility, and deeply calm in her authority. You never felt monitored or controlled. Instead, you felt that there was something real to live up to.

At one point, I struggled to collect equipment lists from our crew so we could prepare carnet applications — customs declarations required when transporting gear across borders. We were under time pressure, and I found it uncomfortable to ask repeatedly for the information I needed.

I was guided to be firm, but respectful. No one was spoken poorly about. No one’s commitment was questioned. There was simply no room for sloppiness, and no need for blame.

That experience stayed with me.

Because what I saw, very clearly, was what self-knowledge makes possible in leadership. She knew her values. She knew her boundaries. And because of the experiences she had accumulated over time, she could draw a precise outline of the culture she would not reproduce, and lead us all in the opposite direction.

All while delivering a major video production across four continents over half a year.

This is what allowed her to be of real service. Not by giving herself away, but by standing exactly where she belonged.

Being of service is not self-sacrifice.
It is precise positioning of yourself.

What it means to position yourself: not as a product, but as a person

In product positioning, we ask simple but profound questions. What is this product? Who is it for? What value does it offer? And how is it different from what already exists?

When you are considering a career change, or wondering whether to build something of your own, these questions apply just as much to you.

What do you stand for?
What do you want to offer, and also, no longer want to participate in?
What are your values in practice, not just in theory?
What experiences have shaped your perspective? And how does that make you different?
Who do you actually want to serve, and why?

Answering these questions is not about branding yourself in a performative way. It is about understanding your own position clearly enough that you stop drifting into roles, environments, or projects that slowly drain you.

This is where self-awareness becomes essential, not as introspection for its own sake, but as guidance.

Why reflection is not optional when something is shifting

When people feel drawn to change direction, it is often because something inside them already has. The discomfort comes from trying to move forward with an outdated understanding of who they are.

This is why reflection is not a luxury in times of transition. It is a necessity.

You need space to listen to yourself again. To accept that you may not fully recognize yourself at this stage of life, and that this is not a problem to solve, but a moment to meet with curiosity.

There is real value in making this process gentle. In allowing yourself to explore who you are now with interest, rather than judgment. In noticing what brings you energy, and what quietly drains it. In paying attention to moments of flow, satisfaction, and meaning, both recent and long past.

For me, this has often meant long walks, writing extensively in my journal, and sitting with questions without immediately trying to answer them. I have never found clarity by polling other people about what I should do. Not because others are unhelpful, but because the answers I needed were never external.

This work requires stillness, patience and a willingness to let things surface without rushing to conclusions.

Carl Jung described the second half of life as a shift away from external markers of success and toward inner truth. If you find yourself here, there are many good reasons to spend time getting to know yourself again, and even to find a certain pleasure in it.

No one else can tell you what is right for you. And no one else gets to define what is possible.

A different way of finding clarity

In my work, this is where the Inner Authority Method begins. Not with goals or strategies, but with understanding.

We start by looking at values, not as ideals you claim to hold, but as patterns revealed through your actions. Often, there is a gap between what we believe guides us and what actually does. Exploring that gap with honesty can be surprisingly liberating.

We spend time revisiting periods of life where there was a sense of flow, meaning, and engagement, sometimes going all the way back to early experiences. We look at how you show up in rooms, how you communicate, what you carry with you into relationships and work, and why certain ways of being have started to feel insufficient.

We trace formative experiences, people you have met, challenges you have navigated, and moments where something crystallized as undeniably true for you. Slowly, a picture emerges, not of who you should become, but of who you already are.

From there, it becomes much easier to see what kind of work, projects, or roles might be a natural continuation of you, rather than a reinvention from scratch.

Clarity doesn’t come from quick decisions

If you are searching for answers about whether to start over, build something of your own, or change direction, know this: clarity does not come from urgency.

It comes from understanding yourself well enough to move forward without betraying yourself.

Sometimes, knowing what you will no longer tolerate is the first and most important step. From there, the rest can be built, thoughtfully, honestly, and in alignment with who you are now.

If you are in this place, and you want a starting point, I’ve created a free self-assessment called “What are you actually going to do in your work life?” It is designed to help you reflect on where you are, what has shifted, and what might be calling you next, without pressure to decide anything yet.

You can take it at your own pace.
And you can trust that clarity will come, not all at once, but steadily, as you learn to stand where you belong.