I hadn’t actually planned to write an article about retrenchment. It was something quite different that brought back feelings I thought I’d already started to work through.
I’m currently preparing to leave Asia after more than ten years, and over the past few weeks I’ve been going through my belongings, deciding what I can take with me, what I can sell and what I’m simply going to have to give away. Clothes, furniture, pictures, ornaments and all sorts of things I’ve accumulated over the years. Some have very little monetary value but mean a great deal to me, while others are things I worked hard to afford and was proud to own.
I’ve found the process emotionally and mentally challenging, and at times quite draining. I appreciate that these are material possessions, but many represent memories, experiences, achievements and a life I’ve worked hard to build for myself. Having to part with them isn’t quite as straightforward as deciding what to keep and what to let go.
What I hadn’t anticipated was how much this process would bring back some of the feelings I experienced following my retrenchment last year. In particular, that sense of losing my identity. Only this time it wasn’t about losing a job title, responsibilities or my place within an organisation. It was about physically dismantling a life I’d spent more than a decade building, without having fully established what the next chapter might look like.
It made me realise that perhaps I’d still got a little more coming to terms with everything than I’d thought.
When Your Career Has Been Such a Big Part of Your Life
I was retrenched in October 2025, having spent almost 30 years working in the corporate world, predominantly within financial services. I’d built a career I was immensely proud of, working across different countries and organisations, holding senior positions and having the opportunity to lead teams and work alongside some incredibly talented people. I genuinely enjoyed my career. I enjoyed the challenges, the responsibilities, making decisions, solving problems and the professional relationships I’d built along the way. I also enjoyed the financial independence and lifestyle that came with it, and I’m not going to pretend otherwise.
Like many people who have spent decades progressing professionally, my career had become a significant part of my identity. It wasn’t simply about my job title or salary, although both were important. It was also about having a sense of purpose, feeling that I was contributing something worthwhile and knowing where I fitted into the professional world.
When that familiar structure suddenly disappeared, I found it considerably harder than I’d anticipated. We tend to focus on the practical aspects of retrenchment: updating CVs, contacting recruiters, applying for positions and preparing for interviews. All important, of course, but I don’t think we talk nearly enough about the personal impact. There’s a considerable difference between knowing that your job doesn’t define you and actually believing that when you no longer have one.
I missed the corporate environment, the routine, the professional relationships and, perhaps more than anything, having a clear sense of purpose. I also found myself asking questions I’d never really had reason to consider before. Who was I without my career? What was I working towards now? And if I wasn’t going to continue doing what I’d spent almost 30 years becoming good at, what on earth was I going to do instead?
My circumstances were further complicated by the fact that I’d been living and working overseas under an employer-sponsored visa. Losing my job therefore had implications that went considerably beyond my employment, including my ability to continue living in the country where I’d spent years establishing my life. At the same time, the hiring market was particularly challenging. Senior opportunities were limited, competition was significant and the requirement for visa sponsorship added another layer of complexity.
Despite my experience and qualifications, finding another suitable position wasn’t proving straightforward. For someone who’d spent much of her professional life dealing with complex situations, managing challenges and finding solutions, it was frustrating to be faced with circumstances that I couldn’t simply resolve through experience, determination or working harder.
I appreciate that my circumstances won’t necessarily be the same as someone else’s. For some people, retrenchment brings financial pressures, family responsibilities or concerns about age and employability. Others may find themselves facing repeated rejection after years of professional success, or questioning whether they want to continue working in the same industry. Whatever the circumstances, I suspect the uncertainty and the questions we ask ourselves can be remarkably similar.
A Changing World of Work
Having spent much of my career involved in organisational and technological transformation, I’ve always been interested in how businesses evolve and what that means for the people working within them. But I think we’re entering a particularly significant period of change, especially with the rapid advancement of artificial intelligence.
We’re already seeing organisations reconsider how work is performed, the skills they require and the roles they need. While there’s understandably a great deal of excitement about the opportunities AI presents, I think we also need to acknowledge the implications for employment and for those whose careers may be affected.
According to the World Economic Forum’s Future of Jobs Report 2025, broader changes across the global labour market could result in approximately 92 million jobs being displaced by 2030, while also creating around 170 million new roles. Of course, these changes aren’t solely attributable to AI. Economic pressures, restructuring and wider technological developments all play a part. Research from the International Labour Organization also suggests that many jobs exposed to generative AI are more likely to be transformed than disappear entirely.
But whichever way we look at it, the nature of work is changing, and I suspect more people will find themselves having to reconsider careers they’ve spent decades building.
We spend a great deal of time discussing technology, productivity, efficiency and the skills people will need in the future. What interests me is that we talk far less about the personal impact on individuals whose careers are being disrupted. Imagine spending 20 or 30 years developing expertise in a particular profession, only to find that the work you’ve built your career around is being fundamentally reshaped.
For some, this will create exciting opportunities. For others, it may bring considerable uncertainty. And if the way we work is changing so rapidly, perhaps we also need to reconsider how much of our identity we attach to what we do for a living.
Trying to Find a New Direction
Over the past year, I’ve spent a considerable amount of time trying to work out what the next stage of my life might look like. I haven’t simply been waiting for another job to come along, although I certainly explored opportunities to continue my corporate career.
I’ve also been considering different avenues, some of which I wouldn’t necessarily have contemplated a few years ago. I established Lilley Professional Pathways, drawing on my corporate experience and coaching qualifications to explore how I might support others navigating their own professional challenges. I enrolled in a TEFL qualification, opening up the possibility of teaching English, and signed up for a Master’s degree in Business Analytics, allowing me to continue developing my knowledge and challenging myself academically.
In many respects, I’ve been doing what I’ve always done when faced with uncertainty: exploring options, learning new things and trying to create opportunities for myself. But something I’ve come to recognise is that being proactive doesn’t necessarily mean you’ve worked out what you actually want to do next.
For almost 30 years, my career had given me a reasonably clear direction. Even when I moved between organisations, countries or responsibilities, I had a good understanding of where I was heading professionally. Now I was exploring opportunities that were quite different from the career I’d known, while also trying to understand who I was without that familiar professional identity.
And, if I’m completely candid, I still haven’t entirely worked that out.
There have been times when I’ve felt excited about the possibilities ahead, and others when I’ve questioned whether I was making the right decisions. What has been particularly interesting is that even when I’ve felt positive about moving forward, the feelings associated with losing my previous life haven’t necessarily disappeared.
Which brings me back to sorting through my belongings.
I’ll find myself surrounded by clothes, photographs or things I’ve collected over the years, trying to decide what I can realistically take with me, and suddenly I’m reminded of everything that has changed. It’s not really about the monetary value of those possessions. It’s what they represent: places I’ve lived, people I’ve known, experiences I’ve had and things I’ve achieved.
I spent almost 30 years building my career and more than a decade creating a life for myself in Asia. I had financial independence, a lifestyle I enjoyed, friendships, familiarity and a home filled with things I’d accumulated over the years. I certainly hadn’t anticipated finding myself in a position where I would be preparing to leave so much of that behind.
I sometimes hear retrenchment described as an opportunity to reinvent yourself, almost as though it’s simply a matter of embracing change and moving on. Perhaps for some people it is, but I think that overlooks how complicated these transitions can be, especially when they aren’t entirely your choice.
Sometimes change comes at a considerable personal and financial cost. Sometimes you’re having to make decisions you never imagined you’d need to make. And sometimes you can be genuinely looking forward to a different future while still feeling sad about what you’re leaving behind.
That’s certainly been my experience.
The Butterfly and the Chrysalis
I’ve found myself thinking about the transformation of a butterfly. It’s a familiar analogy, but one that seems particularly relevant to how I’ve been feeling.
We tend to admire the butterfly once it emerges, without giving much consideration to the period it spends inside the chrysalis. There’s an entire process of transformation taking place before the butterfly appears, and from the outside very little may seem to be happening.
I think there’s a parallel with significant career and life transitions. We’re so accustomed to measuring progress through achievements, milestones and tangible outcomes that it can feel uncomfortable when we find ourselves without a clearly defined direction.
For much of my working life, I knew what I was working towards. There were objectives, deadlines, responsibilities and opportunities for progression. Now I’m having to become comfortable with a future that isn’t entirely mapped out.
Some days I feel confident about the decisions I’m making. Other days I wonder whether I’ve completely lost my mind contemplating such a significant change!
And occasionally, as I’ve recently discovered, emotions I thought I’d already dealt with have a habit of resurfacing when I least expect them.
For a long time, I worried about losing the identity I’d built through my career. More recently, I’ve worried about losing the identity associated with the life I’d created outside it. Yet everything I’ve learned, the experience I’ve gained, the relationships I’ve built and the challenges I’ve overcome remain part of who I am.
Those things don’t disappear simply because I’m no longer working for a particular organisation, living in a particular country or surrounded by the possessions I’ve accumulated.
I’m certainly not suggesting I’ve emerged from my own chrysalis just yet. Far from it! I’m still trying to work things out, making decisions and occasionally feeling rather overwhelmed by the scale of the changes ahead. But perhaps I don’t need to know exactly what my future will look like before I begin moving towards it.
Rethinking What Success Looks Like
For most of my adult life, success was closely associated with career progression, professional achievement, recognition and financial independence. I was ambitious, worked hard and enjoyed the rewards that came with that. And I don’t regret any of it.
But I’ve started asking myself some different questions. Do I need another senior corporate role to feel fulfilled? Do I want to continue pursuing the same career simply because it’s familiar? Or could I take the experience and skills I’ve developed over almost 30 years and apply them in a completely different environment?
I don’t have all the answers. What I do know is that I want to feel a sense of purpose again. I want to be challenged, meet people, build something and feel that what I’m doing matters. And perhaps that doesn’t have to look anything like the career I’ve had before.
It’s a strange feeling, having spent so many years knowing exactly what I did professionally, to suddenly be contemplating an entirely different way of life. But there’s also something quite exciting about the possibility that the next chapter could be just as rewarding, even if it’s rewarding in a completely different way.
One thing this experience has reinforced is the value of having someone to talk things through with, particularly when you’re facing decisions that feel unfamiliar or overwhelming. It’s very easy to get caught up in your own thoughts, question your judgement or feel that you ought to have everything worked out by now.
Sometimes having someone listen, ask the right questions and challenge your thinking can make an enormous difference. It’s one of the reasons I established Lilley Professional Pathways and why I continue to believe so strongly in the value of coaching. Having spent almost 30 years in the corporate world and now experienced a significant career transition myself, I understand these challenges from both a professional and a very personal perspective.
So, Does Retrenchment Mean Losing Your Identity?
I’ve thought about that question a great deal over the past year, and I don’t think there’s a particularly simple answer when your career has been such a significant part of your life.
There have certainly been moments when I’ve felt as though I’d lost a part of myself. More recently, having to sort through my belongings has brought some of those feelings back more strongly than I’d expected. But I’m gradually coming to a different conclusion.
I haven’t lost everything that made me who I am simply because I lost my job. I’m still the person who built a career over almost 30 years, who worked hard, took opportunities, made mistakes, learned from them and achieved things I’m proud of. All that experience is still part of me, even if I decide to do something completely different.
And the same applies to my life in Asia. I might not be able to take every piece of furniture, every item of clothing or every possession I’ve accumulated over the years, but that doesn’t mean I’m leaving behind the memories and experiences they represent.
I think that’s something I’ve needed to remind myself of recently.
I’m not going to pretend that embracing change is easy, or that I’ve suddenly worked out what the rest of my life is going to look like. I haven’t. But I’m beginning to accept that perhaps I don’t need to.
I can be proud of the career I’ve had, grateful for the life I’ve built and still want something different for the future. Those feelings don’t have to be mutually exclusive.
And perhaps the most important thing I’m learning is that changing direction doesn’t mean having to become an entirely different person.
Maybe it’s not about losing your identity at all.
Maybe it’s about recognising that your identity can evolve as your life changes.
References: World Economic Forum, Future of Jobs Report 2025; International Labour Organization, Generative AI and Jobs: A 2025 Update.