the identity trap: when your job becomes who you are

In May, I hosted my inaugural workshop on The Art of Leaving. It was a fantastic experience with a wonderful group of people, content that flowed seamlessly, and extremely positive reviews.

During the session, one topic sparked an unexpectedly rich discussion: identity. We explored how often our sense of self becomes tied to something external—our career, relationships, political affiliation, or religion. While identity had only two bullets on a slide, this concept deeply resonated with participants and has always fascinated me personally.

This resonance didn't surprise me. There have been many times in my life when I lost sight of my identity—times when who I was became intertwined with another person's identity, when my job title became my only sense of self, or when I simply no longer knew who I was.

My burnout reached its pinnacle when I realized that my identity, who I had become, was in complete conflict with everything I thought I valued. I can remember that moment with tremendous clarity.

On June 5, 2022, only days before my fortieth birthday, in an anxious frenzy I decided it was critical to hang the swing we had owned for over a year in our front yard tree. Wearing flip flops, I climbed to the top of an 8-foot ladder that I had placed haphazardly on uneven ground. As I started to hang the swing, I felt my balance give way.

Time seemed to stop. I could see the horror on my oldest daughter's face as I fell. Everything went black for a moment and when I opened my eyes she was hovering over me, crying. Seconds later, our friend, who had been working with my husband in the backyard, was also standing over me.

I spent most of that night alone in the emergency room in a neck brace waiting for scans. My husband was at home with the kids, I sent our friend home and I couldn't bear the thought of calling my parents. I couldn't believe how careless I had been.

Those hours of lying there forced deep reflection. I realized that while I might have been excelling at work, the cost was devastating. I was not the mother I wanted to be, nor the wife, daughter, sister, or friend I aspired to be. I was not embodying my values of family, integrity, empathy, and wondrous joy. I was completely out of alignment with who I was.

This raised a fundamental question: who was I, really?

The answer became clearer the more I reflected.

When my best friend Emma died, I hadn't had the capacity to grieve her fully. While I'd done therapeutic work on the post-traumatic stress disorder and anxiety that resulted from our accident, I'd never given myself space to fully grieve her loss. I was terrified. My grief for Emma felt so immense that I feared if I fully leaned into it, I might never re-emerge.

Instead, I poured myself into work. Work became my escape from profound sadness, a place where I could always take on more responsibility. In return, I received external validation that replaced some of what I had lost from  my biggest cheerleader. 

I simply assumed roles as they came: public servant, wife, mother. I never took time to define how I wanted these roles to shape me. I thought about my coaching with Taryn Watts and then my coach certification program at the Mind Rebel Academy. During that period, I came to recognize my lack of authentic self-awareness. It became clear that I was living my life on autopilot. While others easily created personas for different aspects for themselves, I struggled with identifying who I was at my core.

This started my great unraveling.

I was discharged in the early hours of June 6th with bruising and a mild concussion. I felt fortunate to have been spared more severe physical injuries. I left knowing that something drastic needed to change.

I wish I could say I quit work that day, but those familiar with my story know that it took another three months before I took burnout leave. However, during those three months, I established some boundaries: I took five weeks of vacation and declined to cover for my absent boss.

More significantly, I began rediscovering my authentic self. While I'd always understood my values and various roles, I started examining different aspects of my identity and who I wanted to become.

Entrepreneur and author Tim Ferriss discusses the importance of identity diversification. He notes: "Just as we diversify our financial decisions, Ferriss suggests we should diversify our identity. This could mean taking interest in different areas: career, a vibrant social life, deep friendships, volunteer work, hobbies, sports leagues, being a sports parent—you name it."

Ferris's view resonated with me. For too long, I'd over-invested in work identity. When things went wrong, as they inevitably do, it affected not just me, but everyone in my life. Yet even as I tried to weight other life aspects more heavily, like motherhood and my relationships, I didn't receive the same validation I got from professional success. Honestly, this made prioritizing them challenging.

According to Mark Manson, this pattern makes sense. Simply diversifying our identities isn't enough; we must critically examine how we measure our self-worth. Manson, famous for his book The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck, recognizes that someone can be engaged in many different activities and still derive the majority of their validation and self-worth from one source.

Manson also observes that "many of us state values we wish we had as a way to cover up the values we actually have… We lie to ourselves because we don’t like some of our own values."  

Where was this information when I needed it?

Reaching a place where I can honestly say I embody my values has taken me time, required major life changes, and sacrifices I never imagined making. I would be lying if I said I had it all figured out, it is very much still a work in progress, something I work on daily. However, this journey has brought me more fulfillment and joy than I have experienced in a long time.

Perhaps most importantly, I've learned that authentic identity isn't just about personal fulfillment, it's about the legacy we create. When we live aligned with our true values, we model authenticity for our children, inspire others to question their own misalignments, and contribute to a world where people feel permission to be genuinely themselves. The workshop participants who found identity such a compelling topic reminded me that this struggle is universal. By sharing our journeys toward authentic living, we create ripples that extend far beyond our individual lives.

The art of leaving—whether it's leaving behind inauthentic identities, unfulfilling roles, or misaligned values—is ultimately about arriving at who we're meant to be. And that arrival becomes the foundation for every meaningful thing we'll leave behind.