Finding Yourself in Times of Change
Hi friend,
Think about the last time your life changed in a significant way — when you began a new role or relationship, moved to a new place, or otherwise embarked on a new chapter.
Maybe you got promoted into leadership and suddenly found yourself managing people who used to be your peers.
Maybe you became a parent and suddenly felt like an actor, imposter, or newcomer in your own life.
Maybe you left a career you'd built for decades and had no idea who you were without it.
How did it feel?
If your answer is somewhere in the neighborhood of terrifying, disorienting, or deeply uncomfortable — even if it was a change you wanted — please know you’re not alone.
The part nobody talks about
We love a good transformation story. The before-and-after. The purposeful pivot or stroke of inspiration that changed everything.
What we talk about less is the messy middle — the uncertain, often painful space between who you were before and who you're becoming.
I've been living in that messy middle lately. Navigating multiple identity transitions at once — some of which I’ve chosen, others I’m reluctantly accepting, if I’m being honest.
And even as someone who thinks, writes, and coaches on this stuff for a living, I haven’t been immune to the disorientation and demoralization that come with it.
So when my brilliant colleague Elisabeth Beal and I began preparing for our recent NALP session — Me, Myself & I: Reconciling Identity & Finding Yourself in Times of Change — I was genuinely grateful for the opportunity to build the toolkit I personally needed.
Today, I want to share what we put together in the hopes of helping you feel a little more supported, and a little less alone, as you navigate your own next identity transition.
Recognize identity is dynamic. That's not a flaw.
We tend to think of identity as something fixed — a stable set of traits, roles, and values that define who we are.
But identity is actually far more fluid than that. It shifts when our circumstances shift. It evolves as we grow. And it can feel deeply threatening when it changes faster than we're ready for.
Two Traps to Avoid
While it’s completely natural (indeed inevitable) to experience discomfort during times of change, there are two traps many of us unwittingly fall into that make identity change more painful than it needs to be.
Trap #1: Trying to perfect the new identity without releasing the old one.
We cling to who we were before the change — and measure ourselves against that standard — while simultaneously trying to show up fully in a role we're still figuring out.
The junior partner who’s trying to bring in business but still expects herself to bill like an associate.
The new parent who expects to perform at the exact same level as their pre-child self with significantly less sleep and bandwidth.
The newly promoted manager who still wants to be liked by everyone, the way they were before.
It's like trying to run a new race while refusing to put down the weights from a prior weightlifting competition.
It’s exhausting. And unwinnable.
I know this well from my first year as a new mom.
I'd just built a new business I was incredibly proud of. And I didn't want any of that to shift.
So I convinced myself that if I just pushed hard enough or planned well enough it wouldn't have to.
At the same time, I was welcoming my daughter Poppy into the world — a tiny human I'd fought long and hard for — and I wanted to actually be present for that.
Turns out, both of those things consume a ton of time and energy.
And while new motherhood, of course, presents significant unavoidable challenges for everyone, so much of the strain I experienced in that first year came from trying to do both of those things in the way I’ve done basically everything in my life — “all in” — which of course wasn’t possible.
The exhaustion of this split — performing the old role while trying to step fully into the new one — is compounded when we layer on a second, equally common mistake.
Trap #2: Mislabeling discomfort as weakness or mistake.
The anxiety and friction that accompany identity change aren't necessarily signals that something’s wrong.
They're often signs you're stretching into something new.
But when we pathologize our growing pains — when we interpret them as evidence of inadequacy or error — we layer unnecessary suffering on top of an already challenging process.
This causes us to second-guess ourselves and either cling harder to the old identity or try to skip the transition entirely, bypassing the growth available in the in-between.
A More Constructive (and Satisfying) Approach
In our session, Elisabeth and I shared seven strategies for navigating identity change in a way that offers greater alignment — and ultimately, more sustainability and satisfaction.
1. Re-anchor in your values.
Here's something grounding: Your core values probably haven't changed.
What may need to change is how you express them.
"Commitment," for example, might have once meant working as many hours as it takes, never saying no, and always being available.
In a new season of life — one with different demands, constraints, and responsibilities — commitment might mean something different: fulfilling your promises, protecting your capacity, and saying no occasionally so you can say a more meaningful yes where it matters most.
Same value. Different expression.
And that shift can be really uncomfortable, because our brains like to tell us that if we’re not showing up in the same exact way we used to, it must mean we’re doing something wrong.
Believe me, I know.
But often, this shift is actually a move toward alignment — not away from it.
And when we allow the expression of our values to evolve, it gives us permission to release behaviors that no longer serve us — without feeling like we’re abandoning something important about who we are.
This creates space to show up in a way that’s more aligned with who we are now.
Consider your top three values.
How did you express them before this identity shift?
How might you express them now?
2. Grieve past identities — without getting stuck — and embrace seasons thinking.
Growth and grief often travel together. And we don't talk about that enough.
You might miss the version of yourself that felt more competent, more available, or more certain; the recognition that came easily in a role you'd mastered; or the simplicity of focusing primarily on one domain.
Missing something doesn't mean that it was better or that this season is wrong.
It also doesn’t mean this new season is permanent.
Years have seasons. Some seasons are professionally intensive; others are family-intensive. Some are oriented toward growth; others toward restoration.
Think of your identity as a draft rather than a final version.
Now doesn't mean forever.
If this current season were a temporary experiment, what would feel safer to try?
What might you be more willing to let go of?
3. Rewrite your invisible scripts.
Most of us are operating according to unspoken rules — rules we absorbed somewhere along the way and never stopped to question.
If I'm capable, I shouldn't need help.
If I rest, I'm being lazy.
If I say no, I'm letting someone down.
If I'm not excellent immediately, I'm not cut out for this.
If I’m a good mother, I’ll never ever glance at my phone when I’m with my kid.
These rules made sense in a particular context. They may have even served you well at some point in time.
But identity shifts require an intentional audit of the scripts you're still running — and the courage to rewrite them in ways that align with who you're becoming.
What's one rule you're currently living by that's creating friction?
Where did it come from?
And what would a more values-aligned version of that rule sound like now?
4. Manage the social mirror.
Here's something we don’t talk about enough: Even after you've done the internal work of shifting your identity, the world around you may not have gotten the memo.
Others' expectations often lag behind our evolution.
Colleagues, clients, and family members may still expect the previous version of you — your old availability, your old capacity, your old way of operating.
This is the social mirror problem.
And it requires a skill that doesn't come naturally to most perfectionists and people-pleasers: proactive boundary setting — and the willingness to hold those boundaries when tested.
When you need to communicate a shift, try anchoring it in shared goals rather than personal limitations.
Clarify what you can offer rather than leading with what you can't.
Name the boundary clearly — and in a way that conveys respect and commitment, not retreat.
Clear boundaries reduce confusion, and resistance usually arises not from the boundary itself, but from uncertainty about what it means.
5. Seek big-picture perfection.
If you know my work, you know this concept is close to my heart.
Perfectionists work forward. They scan the to-do list, treat every task as equally important, imagine doing everything flawlessly … and then panic when reality doesn't cooperate.
Big-picture-perfection-seekers work backward.
They start with a clear-eyed acceptance of reality — that time is finite, energy fluctuates, and capacity shifts across seasons — and they ask:
Given what I actually have to work with, where does excellence matter most?
Where is good enough sufficient?
How can I allocate my resources to maximize impact and minimize depletion?
What can I delegate, delete, or delay by putting it on my “eventual to-do list” for a season when I have greater bandwidth?
This is especially crucial during identity transitions, when your capacity is likely stretched and your old operating system may no longer be a reliable guide.
Working with reality rather than against it isn't settling.
It’s wisely strategizing.
6. Cultivate self-compassion.
This is my favorite tool — and honestly, the most powerful tool I could give you in literally any context, including in demanding professional environments.
I know that may be counterintuitive, but self-compassion isn’t self-pity or complacency.
It’s not making excuses, lowering your standards, or going easy on yourself.
It’s the emotional stability that empowers you to do hard things sustainably.
The research is unequivocal: Self-compassion reduces shame, increases psychological flexibility and resilience, and supports long-term motivation and performance.
It’s a serious performance tool — and one that’s chronically underutilized by high-achievers who've been conditioned to believe self-criticism keeps them sharp.
When your inner critic gets loud during a transition — and it will — ask yourself:
What would I say to a close friend who was going through exactly what I'm going through right now?
Then say that to yourself.
Even if you don’t believe it (you won’t — but don’t worry, that will come with time).
7. Redefine what confidence looks like during transition.
Confidence during a transition doesn't look the same as confidence in a role you've mastered.
Temporary incompetence is normal and to be expected.
It’s not a sign of inadequacy. It's evidence that you're stretching your capacity.
Confidence isn't the absence of doubt. It's trust in your ability to learn, adapt, and figure it out — and the willingness to tolerate discomfort long enough to find your footing.
You've figured countless things out before (including really hard ones!).
You'll figure this out too.
As uncomfortable as they are, identity transitions carry with them an important invitation to shed what no longer fits, clarify what actually matters, and become more intentionally, more deliberately, more authentically you.
So today, friend, I encourage you to ask yourself:
What is one step I can take in the upcoming week to honor the person I’m becoming?
Then, go ahead and give yourself the gift of taking that step.
And if you’d like a copy of the Identity Transitions Toolkit — or if there’s any way I can support you on this journey through the messy middle — please feel free to drop me a line.
Until then, know that I am rooting for you.
With love,
Jordana
