I Used to Be
When a professional role has helped define you for many years, stepping away from it can open up an unexpected question: who are you when your job title no longer does quite so much of the describing?
“So, what do you do?”
For years, you probably didn’t have to think very hard about the answer. Perhaps you were a director, a consultant, a headteacher, a clinician, a partner, a business owner or a senior leader. Whatever the title, it provided a convenient shorthand. It told people something about your working life, certainly, but often rather more than that.
It might have suggested something about your experience, expertise and responsibilities. It located you in a professional world and gave other people an immediate reference point.
Then your relationship with work changes and the answer isn’t quite so obvious.
Perhaps you’ve retired. Perhaps you were made redundant, stepped away after a restructure, or are looking for another role. Maybe you’re gradually reducing your commitments or simply beginning to wonder whether you want work to occupy quite so much of your life.
And someone asks that perfectly innocent question.
You hear yourself say:
“I used to be…”
It’s an interesting little phrase.
Not because there is anything wrong with talking about your career - far from it. Those years are part of your story and there is no reason to diminish them.
But sometimes I used to be can make it sound as though the person you were describing existed only while you held the role.
She didn’t.
When what you did became part of who you were
A long career inevitably leaves its mark.
Over many years, you don’t simply acquire expertise. You develop ways of thinking, responding and relating to people. You learn what you’re good at, what matters to you and what other people rely on you for.
Your professional identity may therefore have become woven into your wider sense of yourself almost without you noticing.
That isn’t a flaw or evidence that you were somehow too invested in your career. If you spent several decades doing something demanding and meaningful, it would be rather surprising if it hadn’t become part of you.
The interesting question comes when the role changes.
If the title is no longer there - or no longer tells the whole story - how do you describe the person who remains?
The role changed. You didn’t disappear with it.
This is where I think the language of “identity loss” can sometimes take us in an unhelpful direction.
It suggests that something fundamental has gone missing and needs to be replaced - but perhaps there is another way of looking at it.
The role may have ended. The organisational structure around you may have disappeared. Your name might no longer sit beneath the title it carried for years.
But the woman who did that work is still here.
Your judgement didn’t disappear when you handed back your laptop. Your ability to make decisions didn’t vanish when your email account was closed. Nor did your curiosity, humour, resilience, creativity, ability to connect with people or the countless other characteristics that never appeared in your job description in the first place.
And if you want another professional role, you don't have to discard that part of yourself in order to “move on”. You may very much want to continue being the experienced professional woman you have become.
The question is simply whether one role or title still needs to do all the describing.
What if there’s more, rather than less?
This is where the question becomes rather more interesting.
A demanding career takes up space - not only in the diary, but in our attention. There may have been interests you put aside, things you intended to try “one day”, relationships that received less time than you would have liked, or aspects of yourself that simply weren’t particularly relevant in the boardroom.
That doesn't mean you now need to embark on an earnest search for a “new you”.
I’m not sure most of us need reinventing.
Perhaps this stage offers something less dramatic and rather more appealing: the opportunity to become curious about what else has always been there.
You might still be the strategist, organiser, leader, problem-solver or specialist you were at work. But you might also be someone who loves gardens, architecture, cooking, music, travel, writing, horses, history or learning something completely new.
Perhaps you're more playful than your professional life allowed. More creative. More spontaneous. Or perhaps you're discovering that you rather like having nothing in particular to achieve on a Wednesday afternoon.
None of these things needs to replace your professional self - they can simply make the picture bigger.
Who else is there?
One of the questions I particularly like for this stage of life is:
Who else is there?
Not “Who should I become?”
Not “What is my new identity?”
And certainly not “How do I reinvent myself?”
Just: who else is there?
There's curiosity in that question rather than pressure.
You might start by thinking about yourself in ways that have nothing to do with occupation.
What holds your attention when nobody is paying you to concentrate on it? What do people come to you for outside your professional expertise? When do you feel most like yourself? What did you enjoy before work became such a large part of life? What have you become curious about more recently? And perhaps most revealingly:
If you couldn’t tell someone what you do or used to do, what would you want them to know about you?
That question can take a little thinking about - which is precisely the point.
Try taking the title away
Here's a simple experiment.
Imagine you're introducing yourself to someone new, but there is one rule: you aren't allowed to mention your job title, former employer or profession.
How might you finish these sentences?
I’m someone who…
I’ve always been interested in…
People who know me well would probably say…
I lose track of time when…
I’d like to know more about…
One part of myself I’d like to give more room to is…
(Don't try to make the answers impressive. In fact, the ordinary answers may be much more revealing.)
Perhaps you are someone who loves bringing people together. Someone who notices beautiful things. Someone who needs intellectual stimulation. Someone who loves making things work better. Someone who is happiest outside. Someone who is endlessly curious.
Those qualities existed while you were working - they simply didn't fit neatly on your business card.
You don’t have to leave your professional self behind
There’s one final distinction worth making.
Exploring who you are beyond your role does not mean deciding that your working life is over.
You might want another senior position. You might start a business, become a consultant or work in a completely different field. You may decide that you've done enough paid work and want something entirely different.
Or you may not know yet.
Silver Reset isn't about exchanging a professional identity for a retirement identity. It is about creating enough space to ask:
Which parts of who I've been do I want to carry forward — and what else might I make room for now?
That feels much more expansive than starting again.
You aren't beginning with a blank page.
You are beginning with everything you've already become.
A Silver Reset Reflection
Before you leave this page, spend a moment with this unfinished sentence:
Without my job title, I’m still someone who…
(Don't try to produce the perfect answer. Write down whatever comes first and see where it takes you.) You might even add another sentence:
And perhaps there’s also someone here who…
That's where “Who else is there?” becomes interesting.
Somewhere to capture what you’re noticing
If these questions have sparked something, the Silver Reset Roadmap gives you somewhere to capture your thoughts and look at them alongside the other areas of life that may be changing too.
You don't need to decide on a new identity or produce a five-year plan. The Roadmap is simply a place to pause, take stock and explore what matters to you now — including what you might like to carry forward and what you may be ready to make more room for.
It's a free fillable PDF, so you can download it and type directly into it, or print a copy if you prefer reflecting with pen and paper.