The myth of having it all

A humbling beginning

Five years ago, I recall telling my then-new boyfriend (now my husband) about two close friends who had just had their first baby and brought their mothers in for a few months to help. I genuinely could not understand why. It is two adults and one baby, how hard can it be?

He laughed and said he would remind me of those words one day. Then he asked me if I truly believed one could “have it all.” Absolutely, I said. Why would it not be possible? After all, it just comes down to being well-organised.

And then came the reality check. A difficult pregnancy, a premature birth, and a narrowly avoided postpartum depression stripped away every illusion of control I had. It was deeply humbling, to say the least. Then came the second child, and life with two under two just confirmed what I was already starting to realize: we can have it all, just not all at once.

The weight of expectations

I know women whose ambition only grew after having children, whose vision became even bigger and bolder than before. I admire them.

And then, some women become mothers and realize they love it so much that being a mum is enough. They devote themselves fully to the toughest and most underappreciated job in the world, where constant work often leaves little to no visible trace. I probably admire them even more.

I believe it is beneficial for every woman to work, but to the extent that family logistics and finances allow, the form that work takes should be her own choice. To do that, though, we must peel back the layers of expectation that have built up over the years: what society, family, and friends tell us we should want.

On one end, there are places where women are expected to marry earlier, have children, and stop working. On the other end, there is the unspoken assumption that if you have gone to top schools and built an impressive résumé, you must “use it” or risk failure. Different worlds, same fear: the fear of disappointing others, of not fulfilling our potential, of somehow failing.

And that is the irony: “failure” itself is a construct. It can mean opposite things depending on who you ask. Working or not working. Being “too ambitious” or “not ambitious enough.” Which only shows it does not truly exist.

Seasons, not a superwoman

My husband was right in questioning my belief. The key is “not all at once.” I truly believe that over our lives, we can be, do, and have all we want. But not at the same time.

Life moves in seasons. Priorities shift. The years of newborns and toddlers, filled with short nights, navigation of early years challenges, and total exhaustion, cannot be compared to the years when our children become independent. (If you haven’t yet read The Book You Wish Your Parents Had Read by Philippa Perry, I cannot recommend it enough)

Also, children need us differently as time passes. In those early years, they need us to make sense of their world, themselves, and their emotions. Other people can, of course, help, but there is something that cannot be outsourced, and that is our presence.

The rush that never ends

In my work with exceptional, driven women, I often hear the same things: They are working twelve hours a day, feeling exhausted, guilty everywhere: at work for not doing enough, at home for not being present enough, frustrated for not having time for themselves.

They feel constantly behind, chasing a train that never stops.

When I tell them that, if they’re in their late thirties or early forties and in good health, they’ll likely work another thirty years, there’s usually a long pause. We live longer, retirement may come later (if at all). So why the rush? What are we afraid of missing?

The seasons that matter

The truth is, the years when children truly need us most are just one season of life. After that, we have decades to achieve everything else.

A woman I very much admire had four children close together, stayed home for a decade, and then went on to create one of the leading global conferences in her field. By postponing her ambition, she was able to dedicate one season to her children and then catch up in the next one.

However, it does not have to be one way or the other. It does not have to be a full return to 'business as usual' or a complete withdrawal to 'stay at home.' We are lucky to live in a time when so much more is possible: new career designs and options have opened up possibilities to combine our life and work in ways that better fit our priorities and the season of our lives.

Normalizing every choice

The unpleasant truth is: we all have only 24 hours in each day. Time is the most valuable thing we have. If we look at key areas of life - family, career, friends, social life, and our own well-being, we realize an even more uncomfortable truth: something has got to give.

And whatever the choice, it is fine, as long as it is ours.

Ideally, we took a conscious decision, thought it through, identified our priorities in that specific season of life, and acted accordingly.

That choice can be building or running a unicorn, being a partner at a prestigious financial institution, or raising children and doing some work aside when time allows - and everything in between.

Every woman who seems to “have it all” knows the invisible cost: precious moments missed, friendships neglected, interests abandoned, and the guilt. And those who made different choices sometimes miss their “old selves,” the version who existed before nappies and toddler tantrums.

So yes, you can have it all - just not at once. And maybe that is not a loss after all.

Why we stay when it no longer fits

When the noise of everyday life quiets - during a late-night feed, a walk to the office, or a rare moment alone - the question might start to circle: Is this still me?

We do not plan for identity shifts. They creep in slowly, until one day the version of ourselves that once fit perfectly feels too tight, like a dress we have outgrown but still try to squeeze into.

For many high-achieving women, this moment does not come with a dramatic event but with a quiet realization: the career that once defined us no longer feels like home. And yet, despite knowing this, we stay.

The Identity Shock

In many countries, maternity leave lasts only a few months (if at all). Some genuinely want to return to work as soon as possible. But many go back not out of choice, but fear: fear of losing clients, opportunities, or relevance. It’s often fear disguised as obligation or necessity.

Motherhood (and fatherhood!) transforms us in ways we can’t predict. The new identity born with a child reshapes everything - our worldview, priorities, emotions, and sense of self.

Many who planned to return after a few months change their minds once they hold their baby, and then feel guilty for not doing what their “old self” would have done. So they push on, following what’s expected -  the nurse, the school, the clubs - until they’re quietly driven by expectations, lifestyle costs, and "fear".

And so, they stay.

The Identity Trap

At first, it is subtle. A couple of small compromises, an unspoken comparison here and there. And before we know it, we are trapped - by lifestyle, by expectations, by the weight of what we’ve built.

In my work, I’ve heard the following sentences over and over again:

“I’d love to move out of London, but where else would I earn this much?”

“I’d love to work in something more creative, but those jobs do not pay enough.”

“I’ve worked so hard to get here. How can I just walk away?”

“If I leave, I’ll have to start from zero.”

“What would I tell people?”

These sentences all share common fears: the fear of losing status, safety, and ultimately belonging (remember the sabre-toothed tiger from my previous article?). And underneath that fear lies the question we rarely voice:

“Who am I without this job title and outward success?”

Why we stay

Our careers take the center stage the moment we start working, especially in demanding industries where twelve-hour days are the expected norm. And when everything changes, when family enters the picture, when our priorities shift, we suddenly realize how deeply our worth has become tied to what we do.

There are four main reasons we stay trapped:

1. Financial safety

Even when we earn well, we may not feel financially safe. That feeling rarely correlates with income; it is primarily tied to what we learned about money growing up and the beliefs we developed about money. Some of us were raised around financial anxiety or instability, others in environments where success meant security. Throw in some generational trauma (war, hyperinflation, bankruptcy, etc.) and you have a perfect storm.

The belief that “I’ll feel safe once I earn a bit more” often keeps us running in circles - for example, waiting for one more (deferred) bonus before even considering a change.

2. Fear of the unknown

If you’ve spent years, maybe even decades, in the same industry and/or similar type of role, it is very understandable to wonder: What else could I even do?

Somewhere along the way, we started to define ourselves by our job descriptions. We tend to underestimate how much experience, skill, and perspective we’ve built over time. And we forget that our abilities are transferable and that reinvention doesn’t mean starting from scratch - it means starting from experience.

3. Your identity

This is often the hardest one. For high-achievers, our value has been measured for years by external success: job title, company name, career achievements. When that’s gone (or merely questioned), it can feel like a loss of self.

In truth, it is not failure; it is evolution. It is the moment when you begin to separate who you are from what you do.

4. Community

Some of us are fortunate to work in a supportive, friendly work environment surrounded by great colleagues. At the end of the day, we are social animals and like to be a part of the tribe where we feel we belong. This is not easy to give up, especially taking into account that many other career paths, while offering other “perks” and advantages, might, by default, be lonelier ones.

Redefining success

This is a key turning point, the space between who we were and who we’re becoming. It can feel disorienting, but it is eventually deeply liberating. Staying trapped isn’t failure; it’s feedback, a sign we’ve outgrown what once fit. A quiet nudge to pause and ask: Who do I want to be? What does success mean for me now?

The real work begins with an identity shift, as we revisit the parts of ourselves we’ve set aside: our values, passions, and life beyond work. And before the change actually materialises.

For many, this is the moment to imagine a different kind of career: one that allows us to use our skills fully, explore new paths, and design work around our present life situation, not the other way around. Then, success is no longer what society, colleagues, or peers say it should be. It’s what and how we define it for ourselves.

When careers chose us

The early path

More often than not, our careers choose us rather than the other way around. Very few women I know knew from a young age that they wanted to enter the world of finance, consulting, or law. Unless there was a parent, family member, or role model in a specific field, we likely didn’t even know such careers existed.

For those of us who followed a more traditional path - good grades, good university, perhaps a top master’s program - the guidance we received pointed us toward certain “successful” industries. For those of us who started our careers in the 2000s and are now in our mid-30s to mid-40s, it almost felt like an unspoken rule: if you’ve worked this hard, you should aim for a prestigious, well-paid job.

Add to that the cost of living in cities like London, New York, or Paris, and the lower pay in more “meaningful” industries, and the decision often made itself. Many of us began our careers in investment banks, consulting firms, or large corporations, climbing the ladder, switching firms (or not), and chasing promotions and higher compensation packages. Some shifted later into hedge funds, PE, VC, or tech startups. A few struck out on their own. But the pattern was the same: one opportunity led to the next, and before you knew it, a decade or two had passed.

The family crossroads

And somewhere along the way, the wish to start a family appeared. For some, this happened in a long-term relationship; for others, after a few not-so-great ones. Ideally, we figured out what we wanted, we met the right person, and sometimes, within just a few years, one or more children arrived.

Sometimes it happens during maternity leave, sometimes after returning to work, sometimes after the second child is born. But sooner or later, for many of us, the realization comes: combining it all was tougher than expected. We want to remain ambitious, high-achieving, driven women, but almost suddenly, the moving parts have multiplied.

And that’s when the confusion begins. “But I’m the same,” we think - even though nothing truly is. Over the years, our work and success have become a key part of who we are, often the core of our identity. Who are we without them? What do we say when we introduce ourselves at a dinner table, if not our title and company name?

The quiet return to the rat race

This is all particularly emphasized in cosmopolitan hubs, where the pace is relentless and expectations are high. And where life can be extraordinary - if you can afford it. And, bigger families meant bigger apartments, higher rents or mortgages, higher childcare costs, and higher peer pressure: from private nurseries to “the right” schools and neighborhoods. The result? A quiet return to the rat race.

Questions begin to surface, one after another:

How do we step away from a career that has become such an integral part of who we are?

Who are we without the title, the salary, the lifestyle?

How do we maintain what we have built for ourselves, our families, and our sense of identity?

How do we give our children the best, as we and our peers define it?

And, how do we stay in a game that no longer fits who we have become, yet feels almost impossible to leave?

The quiet beginning of transformation

Somewhere between all those questions lies the truth we have been avoiding and the quiet realization that change is already well underway.

The life we built, our ambitions, our career identity, and that sum of compensations - suddenly feels at odds with the life we now have. And somewhere between who we were and who we are becoming, something shifts. Every transformation begins this way, with questions that grow too persistent to ignore.

Where one career ends and many begin

For many of us who started our careers 15 or 20 years ago, the image of success was clear. Get a good degree, join a reputable company, climb the ladder, stay long enough to reach the top — or at least somewhere close. We knew times were changing, but we still expected a sense of continuity. A linear path, or sort of it. A ladder to climb.

That world doesn’t exist anymore — and that truth is both liberating and unsettling. Job security has become an illusion. Economic crises, pandemics, AI, and the constant cycle of “restructuring” have reshaped the workplace.  

Even great employees get let go. I’ve been there too. And while I didn’t yet have a family back then, I can only imagine the added weight when others depend on you. The reality is: relying on one source of income has become the riskier choice.

The world of work has changed — hybrid setups, remote teams, freelancers, consultants, creators. But more importantly, we have changed. Our values, our priorities, our definitions of success — and none of them are the same as when we started.

For many high achievers, careers once defined us. They shaped our identity and self-worth. Now, that identity is shifting. We are no longer who we used to be, yet not quite someone new. The old no longer fits — but the new still feels far away.

I like to call it the “messy middle.” The in-between where we sense change coming but don’t yet know what it looks like.  It’s where the old identity fades before the new one fully form, and where much of the real transformation happens.

One of the biggest emotional shifts I saw in myself, and my clients, happens when we move from belonging to a company, brand, or job title, to belonging to ourselves.

For many high-achieving, ambitious women, this feels like uncharted territory. They’ve defined themselves through achievement recognition for so long that even considering leaving can feel like failure.

But the real work of transition isn’t logistical, it’s emotional. It’s about identity, belonging, and letting go.

It starts with asking:

• Who am I today?
  
  

• What does a career that fits this version of me look like?
  
  

• What could I create if I designed work around my life, not the other way around?
  
  

That’s where the idea of a portfolio career comes into a career made up of several complementary roles or projects, built around who we are and what matters to us.

In a portfolio career, we:

• Disassociate our identity from a single job or title
  
  

• Leverage different parts of our experience and expertise
  
  

• Enjoy variety, flexibility, and creative freedom
  
  

• Adjust our work to different seasons of life
  
  

• Design careers that reflect the lives we want — not ones we have to fit into
  
  

Portfolio careers can bring choice, balance, and ownership. They let us double down on our strengths rather than patch up our weaknesses. They make change and non-linear path - normal.

Because at the heart of it, a portfolio career isn’t just a professional model. It’s a mindset. One that acknowledges that we evolve — and that our careers should be evolving with us.

We do not always choose when one chapter ends, but we can choose how the next one begins.

Career transition & its messy middle

We humans like certainty; we always have.

For most of our history, our survival depended on it. This is where our herd instinct comes from: wanting to fit in, to belong, to avoid being disliked, rejected, or worst of all - abandoned.

Abandonment once meant death. We couldn’t survive long without the tribe.

So it’s no surprise that we prefer our comfort zones. We might not love them, but they feel safe, so we stay.
Until something shifts.

Sometimes we reach a breaking point where we know the old path no longer works. Other times, life decides for us.

Either way, change rarely feels easy. And it’s always a process.

The first wave: relief & excitement

At first, there’s relief.

Even if the decision was made for us, somewhere deep down, we know the old situation wasn’t right anymore.

Then comes excitement - all the opportunities we could finally explore!

But soon, that excitement turns to overwhelm. Too many options can paralyze us.

We go from dreaming about freedom... to fearing uncertainty.

Even when we longed to leave that unfulfilling job, we still miss the safety of belonging to a company, a team, a title.

That sense of being “part of something” fades, and suddenly we’re in the messy middle:
no clear role, no new identity yet — just a lot of space, possibilities, and confusion.

The messy middle itself

This phase often catches people off guard — especially if we’ve never been through a real transition before.

By that I mean the space in between jobs: When there’s no next role lined up, when the path ahead is unclear, and when every option has its pros and cons — leaving us unsure what’s right.

It’s a time of confusion, self-doubt, ups, and downs.

Even with financial security, we can feel deeply unsettled because we’re no longer part of something bigger.

Our minds start spinning:

“There’s too much competition.”
“There are no good jobs left.”
“AI will replace us anyway.”

And from that mindset, it’s hard to move forward or create anything new.

What’s really going on

Our sense of safety has been shaken, not just mentally, but physically.

Our nervous system goes into fight-or-flight, even when no real threat exists.
It’s as if a bear is chasing us… Except that the “bear” is uncertain.

And that’s completely natural.

We’re wired for safety, not for the unknown. Yet every reinvention asks us to walk right into that unknown.

How to move through it

Here are a few ways to make that “messy middle” a little easier:

Accept the mess: Change is rarely linear. It’s a confusing, emotional, and rollercoaster ride of ups and downs. Let go of how you think it should look — life often has better plans than we do.

Acknowledge the identity shift: Career change isn’t just external; it’s deeply personal. You’re not just leaving a job — you’re letting go of an identity. Feel everything: doubt, excitement, impatience, confusion — it’s all part of the process.

Stay open to new possibilities: The unknown feels scary, but it’s also expansive. After years in one field, we can develop tunnel vision.

Try this:

• Talk to people outside your industry.
• Connect with those who’ve built unconventional careers.
• Reach out to people you admire and learn from them.
• Engage in reflection — alone, with a coach, or even through writing.

Be patient with yourself: Transitions take time. Transformation is a process, not a project. Everything you’re feeling is valid — and temporary.

Closing reflection

The messy middle isn’t a mistake — it’s where your next chapter is forming, quietly, beneath the surface.

If you’re there right now, remember: You’re not behind. You’re becoming.