Pivoting

Going out on your own always sounds better than it feels.

The idea of it is compelling. Your own business. Your own clients. Your own hours. No office politics, no reporting lines, no compromises on how you want to work.

And then you actually do it. And you realise that the hardest part wasn't getting the courage to leave. It was underestimating what comes after.

And what you left behind.

There's comfort in a regular paycheck. In stable colleagues. In a boss who hopefully has your back. The work is there. It's defined. You know how you slot into the overall puzzle. You have a place.

When you go out on your own, you trade all of that for autonomy. And the trade sounds worth it. Until you're three months in and realising just how much energy it takes to replace what used to be built in.

The business development dimension

Nobody tells you how much energy it takes to put yourself out there.

If you're an introvert, especially. If you've spent a career being good at your work and letting that speak for itself. If the idea of marketing yourself feels somewhere between uncomfortable and excruciating.

Suddenly you're not just doing the work. You're finding the work. And that means showing up. Repeatedly. Putting yourself in rooms and conversations where people don't know you yet. Talking about what you do without sounding like you're selling. Learning how to stay visible when every instinct says to pull back and just focus on delivering brilliant work for the clients you already have.

It's equal measures scary and exciting. And it's exhausting in a way that working for someone else never was.

When the pivot doesn't land the way you thought

A coaching client of mine went through exactly this. She's a lawyer. After years in practice, she decided to set up on her own. Good reputation. Strong network. All the things you'd think would make it work.

But the business development side of the role wasn't sustainable. Not the legal work. That was never the question. It was the constant need to be out there. The rhythm of it. The energy it demanded.

So she pivoted again. Back into a role. But not the same environment she'd left. A different organisation entirely. Different culture. Different structure.

And she's thriving.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained

The point isn't that going out on your own doesn't work. It works brilliantly for some people. But it doesn't work for everyone in the way they imagined it would.

And that's fine.

The risk she took opened a door she wouldn't have thought of otherwise. She learned something about what she actually wants from work. What she's willing to trade and what she's not. What energises her and what depletes her.

That's not failure. That's information.

We take risks. Often those risks are hard. But they open doors we would never have considered if we'd stayed exactly where we were, doing exactly what felt safe.

Sometimes the pivot lands exactly as planned. Sometimes it takes you somewhere completely different. Either way, you're further ahead than you were before you moved.

What's the pivot you've always dreamt of taking?

Not the one you think you should take. The one you actually want.

Because the only way to find out if it works is to try.

If you're thinking about a pivot and want to work through what it might actually look like, I'd be glad to have that conversation. You can reach me at info@rachelsheehan.com or find out more at rachelsheehan.com.