Part XI: Maybe I Don’t Need to Change Direction. Maybe I Just Need a Different Stage.

Yesterday was a lively day in our home. First, my mother came to visit. As she walked through the door, our dog greeted her with obvious delight. But gently. Almost politely. A little later, another visitor. Our son had come home. And suddenly, the very same dog was almost unrecognisable. His whole body wagged. Happy leaps. Playful invitations. Every ounce of enthusiasm that can possibly fit into a Labradoodle.

I couldn’t help but smile. It was the same dog. The same personality. And yet, he revealed a different side of himself to each person he met. Perhaps we humans aren’t all that different.

Over the past few months, I’ve spent a great deal of time thinking about what comes next professionally. For a long time, I approached that question in a rather narrow way. Which job would fit my résumé? Today, I find myself asking a different question. Which of my strengths and abilities might also be valuable somewhere completely different? That is a surprisingly profound shift.

For thirty years, I believed my career told the story of who I was. Today, I wonder whether it has actually been teaching me something all along. Because behind every job title lie abilities that reach far beyond the title itself. Crisis communication isn’t simply about writing media statements. It’s about remaining calm when everyone else is losing theirs. Leadership communication isn’t just about advising executives. It’s about helping people find direction when uncertainty takes over. Storytelling isn’t merely about writing. It’s about making complexity understandable. And perhaps mental health coaching is, above all, about one simple thing: Listening.

The longer I reflected on it, the clearer something became. Perhaps I didn’t spend thirty years working in corporate communications. Perhaps I spent thirty years learning to understand people. To speak with them. To support them. To build trust. To offer direction. Suddenly, my professional journey no longer looked like a straight career path. It looked like a well-stocked toolbox.

Then something happened that I never expected. These past months have taught me skills that appear in no job description. Living with uncertainty. Being patient. Starting over. Coping with rejection. Holding on to hope. Motivating myself. Learning to adapt without losing myself. I would never have chosen these lessons. Yet today, I wouldn’t want to be without them. Perhaps they are every bit as valuable as the diplomas hanging on my wall.

For some time now, I have been working on a project that is very close to my heart. Headmatters. There was a time when I believed I first needed one more certificate. Another qualification. More experience. Today, I see things differently. Some experiences cannot be planned. They simply find us. And sometimes, they change us.

I would never have chosen this chapter of my life. But it has taught me what uncertainty feels like. What hope sounds like. How much strength it takes to get up in the morning when you don’t know what lies ahead. Perhaps I listen differently today than I did a few years ago. Not because I know more. But because I have lived through some of these experiences myself.

By now, our dog is resting peacefully in his favourite spot. Just a little while ago, he was our son’s wildly enthusiastic playmate. Before that, he had been my mother’s gentle companion. Now he’s asleep. He doesn’t have to decide which dog he wants to be. He is simply himself.

Different situations simply bring out different sides of his personality. Perhaps we humans are allowed to do the same. Perhaps we don’t have to reinvent who we are. Perhaps it’s enough to let who we already are flourish in a different place. I still don’t know where my path will lead. But for the first time in a long while, that uncertainty no longer feels like a loss. It feels like possibility. Maybe I don’t need to change direction. Maybe I simply need a different stage.