When your Work Changes Shape

I’ve been lucky in my new world of work. My first client came quickly, and another soon followed. I tried new things, grew my network, reached out, retrained, and I’ve drunk more cups of coffee than I care to think about. It felt like I had momentum, giving me confidence that the decision to go out on my own was sound.

The last few weeks haven’t been quite so smooth. I always knew there would be quieter periods, times when things didn’t land, or when opportunities drifted off rather than taking shape. What I didn’t expect was how much I’d learn about myself in that space between what I hoped would happen and what actually did.

New adventures can disappoint and that doesn’t mean you’ve failed. It can simply mean you’re learning what you want, what you need, and who you are when things don’t go the way you imagined. This kind of learning comes from recognising misalignment rather than viewing something as a mistake.

I’ve always said I like working with ambiguity. For me it’s the space where things aren’t fixed and where you can see the potential for more than one way forward. The boundaries are still there, they’re just a bit blurred, and more than one truth can sit side by side. I like those shades of grey because they leave room for nuance, context, and the human parts of work that don’t fit neatly into categories.

Uncertainty feels different. It asks you to sit with the unknown, the possibility that things may not go the way you hope, and to move forward even when the path ahead isn’t clear. What I’ve come to realise is that I’m not that comfortable with uncertainty. Ambiguity I can navigate, but uncertainty unsettles me.

When I was younger, new directions felt less daunting. There was time to course correct, try something, walk away, and start again. Now it feels different. Time feels more finite, and I notice myself weighing things up differently. Opportunities shift, what you want changes, and matching your vision with what’s out there can feel harder than it used to.

In the last fortnight, two things I genuinely hoped would fit didn’t turn out the way I anticipated. Not in ways that were negative, just because what I thought was needed and what was actually wanted weren’t the same. I showed up prepared and hopeful. I asked the questions, checked expectations, and tried to get clear on what good would look like. Still, it didn’t quite match what was needed, things had shifted and the fit wasn’t quite right, and what I brought didn’t land in the way I’d hoped.

Misalignment doesn’t always look like rejection. It can look like drift, like silence, or like a conversation that heads somewhere else. It can also be the realisation that you’ve outgrown something you once would’ve grabbed onto without hesitation.

Misalignment isn’t failure, it’s information.

It tells you what matters to you now and where your energy belongs. It also tells you that the version of yourself who would’ve made it work by pushing harder, stretching further, and filling the gaps isn’t the version standing here today.

I haven’t always been this way, but now I’m comfortable saying what I can do, what I enjoy, and where my strengths lie. I’ll be upfront about the areas I don’t want to work in or where I don’t think I’m particularly skilled. For years I adjusted myself to fit a situation, often without noticing that I was doing it. Learning to name what I want and where I work best has taken time, and that clarity has become part of being honest about the value I bring.

Those two experiences also reminded me of something simple. When you’re trying something new, even if you have the best of intentions, do the prep, and try to adapt, things may still not work out the way you hope. That’s when the disappointment creeps in. Not because anyone’s done anything wrong, but just because for whatever reason it isn’t quite the right fit.

I’ve also come to think relevance changes. How you’re relevant shifts over time and you need to be able to recognise that. For someone like me, who’s defined themselves through their work and spent most of their life inside organisations, that shift can be difficult. Work has been the place where my skills made sense, where I knew what I brought and how I contributed.

Lately I’ve been thinking about what relevance looks like when the work you’ve always done doesn’t land in the same way when you do it differently or carry it into a new stage. Moving from being an employee to working for myself is part of my transition‑to‑retirement plan but managing both at the same time has been harder than I expected. Inside an organisation, your skills sit within a structure. People know what you do, how you work, and where you fit. The work comes because the system around you creates the demand.

Consulting is different. The skills I want to offer are the same ones I’ve always used, but the way they’re offered is not. Inside an organisation, the work finds you. When you step out on your own, the work doesn’t arrive in the same way. You have to find it, understand what’s needed, and show how you can meet that need.

When you’re doing that at the same time as trying to scale back, the picture shifts again. You want the work to be meaningful and well matched, but you also want it to be the right size and the right shape. The question becomes not only how to use your skills differently, but how to use them in a way that fits this stage of life.

This is where the identity piece sits. You start to ask what your contribution looks like now and how you carry forward the parts of yourself that still feel true. For me, perhaps it’s more targeted work, a short piece of advisory support, a review of how a team is tracking, facilitating a workshop, or coaching a leader who’s trying to steady a culture that’s gone a bit wobbly, mixed in with projects more everyday in nature. Same skills, different shape. The challenge is connecting with that work.

What I’m learning is that relevance isn’t something you’re handed. You build it by staying close to what matters, being honest about what you bring, and noticing when the way you work needs to change. Sometimes you only see that after you’ve sat with a bit of disappointment. It shows you what’s shifted and what no longer fits.

Remembering this helps, misalignment doesn’t mean you’re lost. It can be a guide, a sign you’re changing, and a prompt to pay attention to the signals that tell you where your work belongs now. And when something doesn’t work out the way you think it will, it may still open the door to opportunities, just in a different way and often in a way that’s more aligned with where you are now.

Transition isn’t comfortable. It asks you to hold your nerve and keep faith with the parts of yourself that still feel true. The work I care about hasn’t gone anywhere, and the light is still there. I don’t need to have the next stage mapped out. I just need to keep moving in a direction that feels like mine.