Nice Work: Is this all there is?

Hi there,

A topic coming up on a number of my coaching calls is an urge to do something else. In some cases, the next moves are big and clear—like leaving tech altogether and starting a new career. But in many more cases, the path forward feels foggier and less defined. Is it a change of scenery? A change of vibe? A change of pace? How exactly do you make moves based on that criteria?

If I were to describe what I’m hearing in one, all-encapsulating question, it would be: Is this all there is?

When I hear those words I fully relate. It’s been exactly a year since I left my design job to work at Active Voice. But that question—is this all there is?—started ringing in my head long before I quit. It wasn’t so much triggered by things I wanted to escape, though of course those existed. (I’m looking at you, all-day Zoom calls, last-minute urgent requests, and every conversation defending why content should be scoped in.) It was actually more about the things I wanted to run towards.

I had a long list of these. Some of them were tied to work I used to do and missed—like podcasting and teaching. Creating content instead of organizing it. The list also included some extracurriculars that felt like they could be more—coaching and mentoring especially. And others included some long-lost dreams dating back decades—like being a capital-W writer or working in a helping field, like therapy or social work.

I had no freaking idea how to search for a job that let me spend time on those kinds of things—or if that job even existed. And I dreaded the burden of having to build it on my own, which felt like the only option at the time.

But more than anything: I worried I was being foolish and rash.

I had a really good thing going at my last job. I could see a perfectly lovely future where I continued climbing the ladder at my company for a while, then hung out somewhere slightly above the middle rungs for the rest of my working life. I had a track record of getting pretty cool projects, opportunities to learn new skills, trust and flexibility, a salary that made life very comfortable, and a community of colleagues I will consider friends for the rest of my life. Why rock the boat?

And yet… that question. It tugged at my sleeve and whispered in my ear. It got louder and more persistent. It’s time for something new.

I don’t know why it came as such a surprise, because by the time that voice got too loud to ignore, I had become someone new. The Jen who joined my last company in 2017 and the Jen who left in 2023 were totally different people. After years of big, global shifts—from pandemic to war—and more personal shifts—like cancer and other health discoveries—my priorities had changed. This new Jen wanted a more service-driven life, a more creative life, a quieter life. Maybe these years have taught you that you want a different kind of life too.

And yet… it never felt like a good time to take a leap. I had so many fears. Money was a big one. I’d just bought a house by myself and my savings were wiped out. I’d spent the first decade of my career deeply underpaid—and I was terrified to put myself under financial strain again. Security was another fear. What would happen if I changed my mind and wanted a design job again? Layoffs were hitting in big crashing waves—would there be a role to return to?

Turning 40 exacerbated those concerns. Was I making this kind of move too early in my career—or far too late? Would I still know the right terminology, the new tools, the emerging technologies? Those worries filled me with dread. I’d spent years helping people transition into design careers—what did it say about me to tap out? Would this community still have me?

What I know now is this: there’s never a good time. There is simply the time you choose. I hadn’t answered most of those questions when I put in my notice, but I decided to trust myself to figure them out if—a big IF—they came up.

It hasn’t been a worry-free year, but damn it’s been a satisfying one.

If you’ve been asking yourself the question—is this all there is?—I want you to know that it’s not foolish or rash to let yourself imagine what else is possible. So often we shut down our thoughts before they have a chance to take shape, as if thoughts are unwavering promises or commitments we must follow through on.

Your daydreams and desires deserve space. Go deep on what alternatives there are in front of you, or what could be someday. Ask yourself these vital questions: How do I want to spend my time? What problems do I want to solve? How do I want to feel?

You can stop there, or you can take baby steps towards this unknowable future. Maybe it’s voicing interest in new opportunities right where you are. Or it’s carving out time for a lesser part of your job that matters to you. Or it’s doing your research on every single thing you’ve identified as a barrier to making a change—because I suspect many of them aren’t quite as real as they feel in your mind.

I see many people reacting to the uncertainty of this moment by going into a protective lockdown. But what if you did the opposite, and let this moment’s weird, chaotic energy open up something completely unexpected? I know that might sound impossible. But by this point in your life, you’ve ridden wave after wave of change. And here you are: still standing. Your future hasn’t been written yet—and you’ve got a lot of years left to course correct again and again and again.

I first heard that big, messy question—is this all there is?—in the midst of a debilitating burnout. I started making my small shifts in part to come up for air and breathe again. There were internal ones: like setting boundaries that protected time I wanted to dedicate to new things that excited me. Others were external: like volunteering for my company’s in-house coaching team. Each step changed my trajectory the tiniest bit, but in aggregate they opened up a whole new road to follow. To make my way, I just needed to let some things that once really mattered to me go.

But take heart: whatever road you follow, you will always stay you—even if your title or focus or skill-set changes. As Sara reminded me once: “You didn’t leave the design field, you’re just contributing to it in a different way.”

To all of you out there who are considering contributing in a different way—I’ve got my arms outstretched and waiting for you at the end of the tunnel. You don’t have to rush to meet me here. But also: what if you chose to?

—Jen

EPISODE 20

Where did I go wrong?

Giving good feedback is an art. So is recovering after a feedback conversation has gone off the rails.

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