Navigating Change When Plans Shift
Not a blueprint, but a reflection on the systems that have helped me navigate transition and the patterns I’ve relied on again and again.
I still remember standing in the lobby of my new office building in Dubai, watching the familiar chaos of a Sunday morning unfold around me (the work week there is Sunday–Thursday). New colleagues rushed past, speaking languages I was still learning, carrying the confident energy of people who belonged. I held my temporary access card and wondered—not for the first time—how to build a sense of home in a place where everything felt foreign.
Three years ago, I made the difficult decision to step away from my corporate career. It wasn’t part of a plan, and I didn’t yet know what would come next.
I felt lost. There were days I moved through the motions and others when I questioned whether I’d find my footing again. But even in the fog, the systems I’d built over the years gave me something to hold onto. Decades of adapting to new environments had unknowingly prepared me for this moment. They didn’t fix everything, but they gave structure when everything else felt uncertain and helped me move forward even when the change wasn’t part of the original plan.
In the years since, more people have reached out to talk about pivoting and navigating change. We’re in a moment where traditional paths feel increasingly fragile. After years of both chosen and imposed transitions, I’ve learned that reinvention isn't just about courage or adaptability—it’s about designing internal and external systems that make transformation sustainable.
Identity and What Holds
Growing up as a third culture kid taught me early on which parts of myself could adapt to new environments and which needed to stay rooted. In London, I learned the quiet rules of formality. In Singapore, how community forms through food and shared rituals. And in Dubai, where many expected rigidity, I found a culture of hospitality and respect that challenged assumptions—including my own.
Each of these places asked me to observe and adapt, but some things stayed constant: my curiosity, my comfort with difference, and my instinct to listen before speaking. They became steady points of orientation I carried with me.
When I stepped away from work, that early training helped. But I hadn’t learned how to navigate the shift into full-time motherhood. I found myself in a world of school pickups, PTA emails, and coffee chats with parents I barely knew. These circles didn’t feel like mine, and they stretched me in ways I didn’t expect. The change didn’t undo who I was, but it did challenge how I showed up and find steady ground in unfamiliar places.
During those months, I found myself returning to what I now call my non-negotiables—the values and ways of working that ground me regardless of circumstances. I’d always known I needed meaningful work that bridges difference and builds connection. But in that pause, it was clear that intellectual challenge wasn't optional. It was what helped me feel like myself again.
Those non-negotiables weren’t abstract ideals. They became filters. If something aligned, I could take the risk. If it didn’t, I could walk away. Losing my title helped me see what was truly mine, and in a season where so much had been stripped away, that clarity felt like power.
Making Decisions in the Fog
When everything felt unstable, I leaned on tools I didn’t realize I’d been building for years. Living between cultures had taught me how to observe patterns and move forward without all the answers. That early practice helped me stay steady when the roadmap disappeared.
In the first months of transition, I found myself asking familiar questions:
What do I have?
What constraints am I facing?
What might this make possible?
They gave me somewhere to start when clarity was limited.
"Ambiguity doesn’t always signal danger. Sometimes it signals possibility."
The decisions came quickly—there wasn’t time to overthink. I weighed the practical: finances, time, family needs. And the intuitive: energy, alignment, whether it supported the kind of work I wanted to grow into. It didn’t give me all the answers, but it helped me move forward with intention. The weight of each factor shifted depending on the moment, but the structure held.
The People Who Steady Us
One of the greatest sources of steadiness during my transition came from the relationships I’d built slowly. Years of cross-cultural living had shaped friendships that weren’t dependent on job titles or proximity. They weren’t anchored to shared industries or frequent catch-ups. What held them together was a genuine investment in one another’s growth.
These connections were built in the small, steady moments: a check-in, a shared article, a memory that sparked a message. When the professional layers fell away, those gestures held. Some friends reminded me who I was beyond a title. Others simply sat with me in the in-between. They didn’t need answers—they just showed up.
In a season when I felt unmoored, those relationships held steady. They reminded me that the strongest networks aren’t built during transition, but long before, in the ordinary moments that don’t ask for anything in return.
When the Change Isn’t Yours
When I chose to step away from full-time work, it was a decision I came to after months of grappling with unease. I loved the work so much. But over time, I felt a growing tension between what I valued and what I experienced day to day. That misalignment made it difficult to stay well. The decision was mine, but it was one of the hardest I’ve made.
Without the familiar scaffolding of a defined role or title, I started asking new questions: What do I actually want from work? What do I want to protect? What am I ready to leave behind?
The clarity didn’t come all at once. It arrived through quiet conversations and trial runs before I felt ready. Then new opportunities emerged: consulting that respected my perspective, creative work that brought strategy and reflection together, and roles that welcomed my cross-cultural lens.
I didn’t feel brave. Honestly, I felt unsure. But I moved anyway, and that made all the difference.
"Urgency forced action before perfection, and that saved me from paralysis."
A Portfolio Life
The path forward looked like a web. What started as experimentation became something more intentional. A way to stretch across disciplines without splitting my energy, and to bring my skills into spaces where they felt needed, not just familiar.
I hadn’t set out to build a portfolio career, but I realized I’d been doing it all along—layering different kinds of work that aligned with what I value. When one area paused, another picked up. The flexibility helped, but it was the alignment that made it sustainable.
Over time, I started recognizing patterns that helped shape a portfolio life that worked for me:
Each piece of work needed to support either purpose, creativity, or connection.
I focused on work that stretched me, even when it wasn’t paid, knowing it was building something longer term.
If something consistently drained more than it gave, I stepped away.
As I moved through conversations and new collaborations, I started sharing what I’d learned. Others were navigating change too, and the systems that steadied me often resonated beyond industry or context. That’s when I realized this wasn’t just about finding a new direction, but recognizing a different way of working and living that had been quietly shared by so many all along.
The Ongoing Project
Reinvention is rarely a single moment. It’s something I’ve had to return to again and again, especially when the plan I thought I was following no longer fit.
What’s helped isn’t a formula, but a practice: asking better questions, paying attention to what feels aligned, and letting go when something stops working. I’ve learned to stay curious when things are unclear and to trust that clarity doesn’t always come with a deadline.
There’s no final version of this work. Just a return to the systems that keep me steady, and the questions that help me keep going when the path isn’t clear.
💌 If this piece resonated, I’d love to have you along. Know someone navigating a shift of their own? Feel free to share this with them.
Hi Nina, great article. I can relate to the importance of established relationships, and building a portfolio career almost by accident!
I hope you’re well.