You’ve Done All the Work and You Still Feel Lost

Your Identity Crisis is not a Crisis

Recently, this thought went through my mind.

“I did everything I was supposed to do. Therapy. Journaling. Reflecting. And I still feel lost”

I’ve heard this more times than I can remember. From clients. From friends.

And, if I'm honest, from myself. More recently than I expected.

You follow every piece of advice about how to find yourself after a major life transition. For a while, you think it’s working. The pieces have come together. Everything makes sense and you think: this is it, I’ve finally arrived.

And then without warning you’re back to zero. Starting again.

Not the same crisis. Not the same circumstances. But the same loud question, who am I now? Wondering if your identity crisis will ever end.

And to make matters worse, the weight of the question seems heavier this time around making you question all the work that got you here.

I've asked myself that exact question. I’m asking it now. I won't have the answer in this post because I'm still in the middle of the asking.

In that asking, what I am learning is my identity is not a destination to be arrived at in a finite amount of time like a commuter train arriving on schedule.

My identity is fluid, evolving, constantly reevaluating. My identity crisis is not a crisis. It is the work.

My Old Identity Keeps Showing Up

Two weeks ago, I joined the local Chamber of Commerce and I’m in rooms with real business owners talking about their businesses. These people were unapologetic about their business and their position and their ask. They knew who they were, what they offered and the value they brought to the table.

I felt an internal switch go off. I was them. Then, I fell in line.

I started looking at the business with fresh eyes, working through some business positioning, using a tool I lean on often for research and strategy. In the middle of it, it reflected something back to me I hadn't noticed myself: six months ago, I was worried about the website, copy, webpages. Do they say the right thing. Will people like it. Hell, will people find it.

My focus was not on the “business” it was on the presentation. Again, looking for validation that what I was doing was the right thing.

Now I’m researching positioning, metrics, and business development.

That one revelation did something I didn't expect. It named the gap I'd been standing in without realizing it.

I gave new coaching clients five sessions for ten dollars. Not because I'd thought through a launch strategy. Because some part of me believed the discount would make it easier for someone to say yes; and I felt guilty about the price the whole time. Not guilty for being generous. Guilty because the number told the truth I wasn't ready to say out loud: I wasn't sure I was worth more than that yet.

That's what playing businessman actually looked like. Asking people to see my value instead of standing in it. Discounting what I knew I was worth because some part of me was still asking permission to take up the space I'd already moved a hundred miles to occupy.

I came here to build a business, not run a hobby.

I'm not playing businessman anymore. I'm a businessman. And that's not a tagline. It's a different posture, a different price, a different way of walking into every room; even standing in the exact same uncertainty I was standing in six months ago.

This is what an identity shift looks like in real time. The details are mine. But if you're in the middle of your own transition; retirement, empty nest, divorce, starting over, the question underneath it is the same.

Who am I right now?

Calling Yourself Something Before You Feel Ready

"I'm a businessman" turned out to be a declaration, not a definition. The first time I sat in a room full of Chamber of Commerce members, I felt it immediately, am I allowed to say that out loud?

I had two coaching clients and a production management company I'd just set up. Some of the people in that room had been running businesses for twenty years.

Calling myself a businessman next to them felt like borrowing a title I hadn't earned yet.

But after a few more events, talking to more of them, I noticed something. A lot of us were standing in the same place. New. Figuring it out. Uncertain about pricing, structure, what to say yes to.

And that didn't make any of us not businessmen.

It made us new to entrepreneurship, which is something you can learn, not something you have to already know before you're allowed to claim the word.

That's when I understood something I hadn't expected: the permission came first. I didn't earn the identity by already knowing how to act like a businessman. Claiming the identity is what gave me somewhere to stand while I learned the behaviors that go with it.

And there were behaviors to learn.

Businessmen don't wait for assignments, tasks, or business to come their way. They seek it out. They create it. They develop it. That's a different daily structure than the one I'd been running. The one where I waited to be asked, hoped to be noticed, discounted myself to make it easier for someone to say yes.

I'm still building that structure. It's imperfect. I'm still figuring it out the same way I'm still figuring out what identity work actually looks like in real time, but I've stopped calling it a crisis. The structure and the identity are fluid. Both are evolving with whatever I'm growing into next.

I Never Was What I Said I Was Until I Said I Was

I've been doing this my whole career and never noticed.

I started in television not knowing anything. I called myself a PA. Then an AP. Then a producer. Then a senior producer. Then a production management specialist. Every one of those titles, I claimed before I'd fully grown into it. Not because I was lying. Because that's apparently the only way it's ever worked for me. I never was what I said I was until I said I was.

I'm only seeing that pattern now, writing this.

I shared my story because I have a feeling, if you look closely enough, you'll find your own version of it.

Final Thought: I Don't Have It Figured Out. I'm Focusing on This Chapter.

What if this is what growing into a new identity actually looks like? Not arriving. Not finally becoming. Just giving yourself permission to become the next version of yourself before you have all the evidence that you've already arrived.

I’m giving myself permission. I don't have it figured out. I don't have answers for all the questions. I don't know how the story ends.

I leave you with this to ponder:

Where in your life are you still waiting to earn permission to become the next version of you?

Drop it in the comments or simply write it down. Then step into it.

If you're not sure where to start, the Five Questions exercise is a good first step. It won't give you all the answers but it will help you identify where you actually are right now.
Get the Five Questions here

Live on Purpose. Lead with Clarity. Thrive by Design.

TL;DR

Still feel lost after doing all the work? You're just in the middle of what identity work actually looks like and nobody told you it doesn't end. This post gives you something more useful than answers: a different way to hold the question.

Continue the Conversation

If this conversation resonated with you, these articles may help you continue the journey.

How Do I Rebuild My Life When I Don’t Know Who I Am Anymore?
If you’re wrestling with the question of who you’ve become after a major life transition, this is the next place to start.

I Went Quiet on Purpose
Sometimes stepping back isn’t quitting. It’s creating space for something new to emerge.

Build an Environment That Reflects the Real You
Once your identity begins to shift, your environment has to support the person you’re becoming.