A reflection on change, identity, and choosing something new in midlife.
The year I qualified as a counsellor was also the year I became an empty nester, a transition that signalled a significant shift in my life. As family roles began to change, I found myself thinking carefully about what I wanted work to look like in this next chapter. Choosing to train as a counsellor was a deliberate decision, shaped by a sense that I needed something that belonged to me now in the space that was opening up.
Returning to education after a long break was its own kind of adjustment. Moving from being a student counsellor into becoming a qualified practitioner brought both confidence and a fresh sense of uncertainty. There was a shift in how I was seen by others, and in how I needed to see myself, stepping into a role that felt meaningful, while still growing into it. It was another reminder that becoming is rarely a single moment of arrival.
What struck me during this period was how change can be felt in different ways at the same time. Alongside a sense of movement and opening, there were times when it took a while to find my footing. When long-held roles loosen, questions about identity, purpose, and direction often follow. It's a space many people recognise in midlife, where something meaningful is ending and something new is beginning, even if it isn't yet clear what that will be.
During this time, questions of identity felt closer to the surface. I became more aware of how often we're asked "what do you do?" usually meaning paid work, and how loaded that question can be. For many people, including those who have spent years at home raising children, it can carry an unspoken pressure to account for yourself or fit into a recognisable category. I noticed some discomfort in this, alongside a new awareness that answering the question had become easier because I could now name a role that others readily understood. And yet, I remain aware of how much of who we are is shaped outside of job titles, particularly during long stretches of care, change, and transition.
Experiences like these have deepened my understanding of how change can reshape our sense of self. Transitions don't always arrive with clear markers or decisions; often they unfold gradually, asking us to sit with questions about who we are now, and who we might be becoming. Therapy can offer a place to bring these questions, not to resolve them quickly, but to give them space, language, and care, allowing understanding to emerge in its own time.
You might find yourself reflecting on how change has shaped your sense of who you are now, and what you're still becoming.