Career transition: what to do when you don't know what's next
Some people leave a job because they finally decided to. For others, a restructuring happens, the decision gets made for them, and they don't get a say in it at all.
Sometimes the role changes and asks something of you that doesn't quite fit. The company scales, the role you built for yourself stops existing in the shape it used to have, and what's asked of you next has nothing to do with what made you good at this in the first place.
And there's another kind, the one I see take the longest to resolve: you're still in the job, showing up every day, and some part of you already left months ago. You know it's expired, but the illusion of security is strong enough to keep you there.
Each of these is its own threshold, and each one asks something different of you.
What each kind of career transition asks of you
If you left on your own terms, the first thing that usually kicks in is the bank account math.
If you didn't choose it, the math comes with a story attached, usually one that says something about you. A story that's rarely true, but loud.
If you're the founder scaling, the role suddenly asks for people management, a completely different skill set from whatever got you here. The pull is to sit in every meeting and try to become that person yourself, instead of staying in what you're actually built for and delegating what's not.
And if you're still in the job while part of you already left, get curious and follow that thread. It's information: it's telling you something needs to change, and you have to make that choice.
Why your mind goes straight to cutting costs
A client of mine took voluntary leave from their job to think through the next step - a liminal space, by definition. Almost immediately their mind went to cutting costs. Scarcity and survival kick in real fast, and that's not a very creative state.
This is something I've grappled with in my own life too, so I get it.
The cost question belongs. It's smart, it's how you manage risk. Yet at the same time, if that's the only question you're asking, it becomes an energy leak and a lost opportunity.
Next to that question, ask a different one: "How do I create more value and impact now?" More income will follow.
That's valid for everyone leaving a job, voluntarily or not, and for any founder or entrepreneur moving through the natural cycles of business. What you focus on is what you get. So sure, cut unnecessary costs. But find ways to add more value and more impact too.
Is a non-linear career path a problem?
The expectation that you have to follow one single path does a lot of damage.
I was at dinner with a client turned friend who was visiting from Germany. Her career has had a lot of zig-zags, and whilst she knows why, and she's made these moves strategically to expose herself to new things and perspectives, there's still a voice in the back of her head wondering what the next hiring manager will think.
This shows up differently depending on where you are - some places are more open to a nonlinear career than others, but there's still real resistance to it in plenty of them.
Mastering one thing works for some people, but it's not for everyone. Some people are wired to thrive in change, to pivot, and to do so often. Others may need to find new roles because of life events. I recently met a guy who couldn't keep doing what he did because of a physical condition. He changed careers by his mid 40s, and is loving the new one too.
And some of it is just the moment we're in, with AI replicating many of the skills we've built our résumés on, which makes the "safe", specialised path less safe than it looked.
Roles change, and so do titles. Being resourceful, and knowing what we contribute regardless of the label we may carry for a while, are two things we can't lose. Whatever the reason for the next turn, your mix of gifts, perspective, experience and energy, and the way you impact other people, goes with you - into a new role, a new industry, or a job that doesn't even exist yet.
At some point in the conversation, I told her: "It'll make sense, because you'll have done it."
We paused just long enough to jot it down - then went back to dinner.
How I left corporate without knowing what came next
Thirteen years ago, I said "plot twist" and walked off the planned path into something with no map.
What actually pushed me there was living through a robbery. I didn't know it then, but I was numb, going through a life that looked right on paper without ever stopping to ask if it actually was one I would choose for myself. It took something breaking from the outside to make me curious about my own life again. I wasn't listening before the robbery, and Life made sure I did. I moved abroad and had to restart my life over, and then I moved to the Netherlands and started a new life doing something completely different. I moved abroad and had to restart my life over, and then I moved to the Netherlands and started a new life doing something completely different.
That was the first time I let myself break the mold, and what came after was something I never could have imagined or planned for.
The second time was at work. I had a really nice career in corporate until the story of "you need to do an MBA", which I didn't want to do. So I created my own role, a third option, a role that didn't exist, and it lasted for about two years. When the pandemic hit, my job could not stay as it was. The role I loved disappeared, and I was offered something that didn't feel right. I made a choice to step into the unknown: I left corporate to do my own thing, and I didn't know what that was back then.
Palliative care nurse Bronnie Ware wrote a well-known account of the regrets people have at the end of their life. The most common one is wishing they'd had the courage to live a life true to themselves, and not the life others expected of them.
Not everyone needs to jump into the unknown the way I did. But if something in you keeps saying there's more to life, even when nothing looks wrong, that's worth following.
The first step in any career transition
All of these are thresholds: doors, hallways, waiting rooms. Life happens in these transitions.
Rush through one and it's just discomfort to survive. Stay with it and it becomes the creative void, where possibility actually lives.
Getting there starts with radical honesty: naming which threshold you're actually standing in.
So, which one is it?
And once you've named it, actually knowing what you're made of, regardless of your situation, helps you navigate.
Human Design is the map I use for that: how your energy works, and how you make decisions when the conditioning drops.
I'm Paula Torraco. I partner with founders, leaders and teams in transition.
I help you see something you didn't even know was possible, and it becomes your clear next step.
If you're standing in one of these thresholds and want a partner in the room, a 1:1 session is where to start.
