The Genesis of My (Second) Career Pivot

On April 1, 2025, I sold my language services firm. I sold it much the same way I had founded it 14 years earlier—on a whim. Or rather, by following a gut feeling.

A Radical Break

In 2011, during my third maternity leave, I had found myself feeling anxious at the thought of returning to the 9-to-5 routine: rushed mornings, daycare drop-offs and pickups, endless traffic, hurried dinners, and evenings spent without truly being present.

So I chose something else: self-employment—with no clients, no concrete strategy, and no guarantee of success, but with the certainty that it would improve my life—and my family’s.

I was right.

Over time, I built a thriving business. I became a manager, a leader, a mentor. I recruited, trained, supported. I developed, structured, optimized.

Until one day. . . it no longer resonated.

Adapt, Collapse. . . or Reinvent Yourself

I took a step back and realized I was at a crossroads: either I would need to rethink my business model to adapt to the new global reality shaped by the rise of generative AI, or I would need to close this chapter of my life.

I chose to close the chapter. And that choice was far more difficult than I had anticipated, because it implied two things: refusing to adapt and redefining my identity.

I had always seen myself as someone resilient, someone capable of adapting. So why the resistance? Was it fear? Stubbornness? Exhaustion?

I spent a long time reflecting on that, and two truths became clear.

An Ideological Decision, an Identity Crisis

First, I was ideologically opposed to the idea of replacing my team’s immense talent with soulless machine-generated text. I respected my highly skilled language professionals—and my profession—too much to ask them to revise machine-written content in exchange for diminished compensation. And rebuilding an entirely new team would have meant starting a new business anyway. I figured I might as well do it in a field with a more promising future.

Second, I realized I was exhausted. I had been wading through uncertainty for nearly two years, and I was worn out. I no longer had the energy to keep fighting against the current.

I gave up. Or maybe I let go—that sounds more positive, more polished. More aligned with the times. I’m not sure which one is most accurate, and in hindsight, it matters very little. What matters is that I reached the point where I was ready to turn the page.

But it wasn’t that simple. I had also vastly underestimated how strongly my identity was tied to my work. For 14 years, I had thought like a business owner.

Clients. Team. Growth. Strategy. Revenue. Systems. Optimization.

So when that role disappeared, one question emerged:

Who am I now?

And more importantly: who do I want to become?

The Exercise That Changed Everything

Rather than rushing toward an answer, I chose to give myself space.

I booked a day at the spa. Not just to relax—to think. The spa was simply an excuse to get out of the house, immerse myself in a different environment, and most importantly, force myself to take that time now that the full amount had already been charged to my credit card. I was taking myself on a strategic reflection retreat.

I arrived prepared, with 12 carefully selected questions to guide my thinking. I gave myself fifteen minutes to answer each one, without filtering.

After three hours, with my mind racing and my body exhausted, a new sense of clarity began to emerge. I spent the afternoon soaking in the baths, slowly letting everything I had written settle and simmer.

But I still needed to make sense of it all. Three weeks later, I went back to analyze my own data. Once again immersed in a calm, light-filled environment, I created a weighted decision-making system right there on the spot. It revealed, with striking clarity, the path I needed to take: I was going to become a professional coach.

Trusting the Timing

In my beautifully naïve mind, I thought I would launch this new chapter of professional coaching the very next day after selling my business. Then there were loose ends to tie up. Then summer arrived. Then I wanted to enjoy it. A lot.

And the more I delayed fully investing myself in this transition, the more I discovered about myself. I had accumulated deep fatigue, and I was afraid of the unknown—but more than that, I was beginning to enjoy my new, much slower pace.

People say, “the rhythm reveals itself.” That is exactly what happened. And I let it.

A New Chapter

Autumn arrived, and I refocused. I adopted my usual strategy whenever I decided to reinvent myself: take the shortest path. I enrolled in an intensive coaching program—partly to silence my inner imposter—and I devoured countless books on the subject.

That has always been my modus operandi: Learn. Deepen. Integrate through practice.

I am a curious, disciplined, and deeply committed self-learner. I do not wait to achieve perfection before I begin. I move when I feel ready. Aligned. Grounded.

And then I go. I dive in.