I’d like to share the story of how I used to be, how that served me, and how my experience brought me to serving others as a professional coach who helps others to thrive.

Growing up

Ever since I was young, I was a ‘good girl’, being overly helpful, working hard and people-pleasing.   I did well at school, was a good child, seen and not heard, meek and mild. Family life was difficult for the whole of my childhood which meant I grew up quickly to be capable, sensible, responsible and independent.  I got into the habit of being dependable, always putting others needs before my own and carrying on regardless.

Getting on the treadmill

In my first year at university, when I was 19, my Dad was diagnosed with a terminal illness and died shortly afterwards.   Ever the capable one, I just put my head down, suppressed my grief and kept on going.  I lived in a mind-fog through the rest of my degree, going through the motions.  I became very ill with asthma so bad I’d get blood in my mouth from my lungs, and with an autoimmune disease which left me on lifelong medication, yet I kept pushing on.  I got my degree with honours but didn’t know what to do with it, or myself.  I took the first job I could find, doing admin work which had absolutely no meaning or interest for me, and no sense of direction.  I was going through the motions, continually ill, surviving.  Eventually my body enforced rest by shutting me down with depression.

When I picked myself up again, I had no idea what I wanted to do and so went to a graduate recruitment fair.   I landed my first corporate job, combining the problem-solving skills from my engineering training with my natural interest in people.  I proved to be bright, adaptable and well-presented and so was placed on an important client project, which meant working long hours and living in a hotel Monday to Friday for months on end.  I didn’t think about whether the work itself carried any meaning or gratification for me.   I found myself on the corporate treadmill. 

Then I discovered HR which combined problem-solving with helping people in a more impactful way.  At first, I loved HR, helping people by mediating employee relations cases, facilitating conflict resolution, developing and coaching leaders and mentoring young talent.  In corporate terms, I was very successful, being consistently categorised as ‘high-potential’, selected for various leadership programmes and regularly promoted.   I worked exceptionally hard, juggling long hours and frequent travel with having a very young family.  I had the corporate version of success in my mind.  I put huge pressure on myself to make it work, to be a role-model for other women, and ‘have it all’.  At that stage I enjoyed my work and so I strived on.

Striving in a career

However, as I moved into more senior roles, the nature of my work meant that I was less involved with the people-work I loved and more focussed on human resource strategy.  Humans as resources, not people.   I had lost meaningfulness and fulfilment in what I was doing but I was working so hard I didn’t pause to reflect on that.  I was consistently exceeding expectations and was defined as successful.    However, I was going through the motions, a numb machine, disconnected from my heart and my gut instinct. Rather than doubting the path I was on, I doubted myself.  I suffered low self-confidence, believing I wasn’t resilient enough to handle the workload, the stress and the politics.  My health deteriorated in many ways, but I ignored the signs, ‘band-aided’ and self-medicated.   My bosses, ever encouraging me onwards and upwards, told me I was just experiencing Imposter Syndrome that’s classic amongst high performers.  And so, I steeled myself and carried on striving. 

It was only when I started suffering excruciating debilitating headaches, investigated by brain scans and treated by painful self-injections which would nearly knock me out, did I realise that my body was screaming at me to stop.  It had got my attention.  I was utterly exhausted, spent, depleted.  As I reflected on where I found myself, I realised that the problem wasn’t that I lacked resilience, confidence or ability.  The problem was that I lacked purpose, meaning and fulfilment.  On the outside I may have appeared successful, but on the inside I was hollow.   I had been carrying on regardless for far too long, putting myself under huge pressure to please others, doing work that I had no passion for and didn’t align with my values.  I was deeply unfulfilled. 

I know some people thought I was crazy to contemplate ‘giving up’ as I was close to my next corporate step of achieving VP status, but I couldn’t survive that way any longer. And so, I used my last bit of energy to resign, so that I could leave on my terms before I crashed with burnout.  I didn’t know what I was going to do, but I knew it had to be something different.