So many of us work hard. Genuinely, exhaustingly hard. But how many of us are working hard at something that actually means anything to us personally? Meaningful Work Isn't One-Size-Fits-All Here's the thing about "meaningful work" - there's no universal definition. What feels worth it to me might feel completely empty to you. It's personal. It has to be. For someone, it's the feeling of helping another person through a hard moment. For someone else, it's making a genuine dif

Are you one of the 80% of disengaged workers globally? (Gallup, 2026) Right now, you might not even be able to answer that with any confidence. But the stats say there's a high chance you are — and if you're nodding along already, that's worth paying attention to. I've experienced disengagement myself. I wouldn't wish it on anyone. What I remember most is how quietly it crept up on me — I didn't even have a name for what I was feeling until I was well and truly in it.

I am an example of this trade-up. It wasn't graceful. It wasn't planned. It hit me twice, at two very different points in my life. The First Hit The first time was before I fell pregnant with my first child. I experienced severe burnout — the genuine, stop-you-in-your-tracks kind. It forced me to stop and really question what mattered. (I talk more about this in Episode 1 of The Inkling Effect Podcast, if you're curious.) With enforced time off to think, I started asking myse

After 25 years in corporate life, two significant career changes, and a journey from tech startups to career coaching, I've learned some hard-won lessons that I wish someone had shared with my bright-eyed 20-year-old self, fresh out of university. Even when you feel trapped in your accidental career/life, you have the freedom of choice. You need space and focus to find the options. Take the blinkers off. Define what you want, why you want it, and believe there IS a viable sol

I fell into this trap. For years, my identity was so intertwined with my work that I genuinely believed I was living. In reality, I was giving myself completely away — to my work, my team, my projects, my organisation. I gave up my happiness, my health, and time with my family... and I did it willingly. Nobody forced my hand. I handed it over, piece by piece, because it felt like what a good professional was supposed to do. That's when my "workquake" happened.

Have you ever found yourself stuck in a job you despise, yearning for change but unsure of how to proceed?

Normal. What even is that? Honestly, the word sounds a little boring to me. A little vanilla. Somewhat pedestrian. Like beige carpet or plain rice cakes — perfectly fine, completely forgettable. And yet so many of us spend enormous energy trying to fit in, tone ourselves down, and smooth off the edges that make us genuinely interesting. We worry about saying the wrong thing, having an unpopular opinion, or standing out in a way that might make someone uncomfortable.

I didn't set out to become an entrepreneur. Honestly, for most of my second career change, I was just trying to survive it. But looking back, there were clues. Things I kept gravitating toward. Ways I kept showing up — even when I was terrified. And it turns out those weren't random quirks; they were strengths doing what strengths do.

There's a quote I keep coming back to, and it's deceptively simple: "Whatever you decide to do, make sure it makes you happy." Simple. Obvious, even. And yet, for so many of us - quietly radical. At some point, most of us stopped asking whether our work makes us happy. Instead we started asking whether it pays enough, whether it's stable enough, whether we'd be foolish to leave it. Whether we should just be grateful. I know this, because I lived it.

How many times are you going to let January slip by before you actually do something about that career change you've been thinking about? I've navigated two major career changes myself. Both terrifying. Both absolutely worth it. The second took nearly a decade—a slow, uncomfortable pivot from 25 years in Product Strategy and Innovation into career coaching. The first happened faster, leaving behind my chosen under graduate focus for a career in Technology.

You've been thinking about it for months. Maybe years. You've googled "career change at [your age]" more times than you'd like to admit. You've saved job posts you'll probably never apply for. You've had the same conversation with your partner on repeat: "I just need to figure out what I actually want." But here's the thing that nobody talks about: Deciding what to do next isn't actually your problem. The real problem? Getting started. Taking that first step.

You've built a successful career over 10, 15, maybe 20 years. You've climbed the ladder, earned respect, built a reputation. People know you as "the lawyer," "the senior specialist," "the group manager." Your LinkedIn profile is impressive, your business cards are crisp, and your elevator pitch is polished. Then something happens.