Over the past couple of weeks, I've written about something we see regularly in our coaching. Highly capable, successful people reach a point where something no longer feels quite right. Their first instinct is often to look for a new opportunity, but before rushing into another role, it's worth understanding what they're really trying to change.
That naturally leads to another question. If we know something doesn't feel right, why do so many of us stay where we are? It's an interesting question because, in my experience, the answer is rarely as simple as fear.
Most of the people I work with are accomplished professionals. They have built successful careers because they are talented, responsible, resilient and committed. They care deeply about the people they work with and they take pride in doing good work. Those qualities have helped them build successful careers, but they can also make it surprisingly difficult to recognise when a career no longer fits.
Careers don't usually become misaligned overnight. They evolve over years through a series of sensible decisions. We accept a promotion because it seems like the natural next step. We stay because we have a great team, a supportive leader or financial responsibilities that matter. We keep saying yes because opportunities continue to present themselves, and because we're good at what we do.
None of those decisions are wrong. In fact, most of them make perfect sense at the time.
The challenge is that while our careers continue moving forward, we are changing too. Our experiences shape us. Our values deepen. Our priorities shift. What motivated us ten years ago may not be what motivates us today. The work that once challenged and energised us may now feel routine, and the definition of success we once pursued may no longer reflect the life we want to create.
Yet many of us continue making decisions based on who we were, rather than who we are becoming.
I've experienced this myself. Looking back over my own career, there were moments when nothing appeared to be wrong from the outside. I was progressing, learning and achieving what I had set out to achieve. But quietly, something had changed. I had changed. The work that once felt exciting no longer aligned with the person I was becoming or the contribution I wanted to make. There wasn't a single defining moment that forced me to reconsider my direction. Instead, there was a growing awareness that continuing on the same path simply because it was familiar was no longer enough.
I now realise how easy it is to confuse momentum with intention.
Momentum keeps us moving. It rewards us for continuing down a path we've already invested in. It tells us that because we've come this far, we should keep going. Intention, however, asks a different question. It asks whether this path still reflects who we are, what matters most to us and the life we want our career to support.
Those are very different conversations. One keeps us moving. The other helps us choose.
Over the years, I've learnt that the people who build careers they genuinely love aren't necessarily the ones who make the boldest decisions. They're the ones who create enough space to notice when they've changed. They recognise that success is not a destination they reach once and never revisit. It's something they redefine as their lives, priorities and aspirations evolve.
Perhaps that's why I believe career planning and design shouldn't be something we do once at the beginning of our working lives. It should be a conversation we return to regularly because we are not the same person we were five years ago, and our careers shouldn't expect us to be.
Reflect
I'd encourage you to spend some time with this question:
What decisions am I still making based on the person I used to be, rather than the person I have become?
You don't need to answer it immediately. Simply notice what comes to mind. Awareness is often the first step towards creating a career that is chosen with intention rather than shaped by momentum