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.