I got fired. I felt like a failure.

At the time, it felt like a disaster.
I was mid-career, successfully running a business. I’d felt invincible.

My new chairman  invited me out for drinks.  I planned to take him through my plans for the business. 

Instead,  just after I’d taken my first sip of the pint in front of me, he dropped the bomb:  my global holding company was about to go through a major reorganisation and I was collateral damage. He was there to tell me that they were going to make me redundant.

No warning. No thanks for everything. Just… done.

I remember walking home from that drink in a haze.  Thank goodness I didn’t get hit by a bus. I was so shell-shocked.  

For a while, I tried to keep it together.
But inside, I was gutted.

I replayed conversations. Reran decisions. Rewrote endings.
Wondering what I’d done wrong. What I could’ve done differently.
I felt like I’d failed: my partner, my team, my clients… and most of all, myself.

And here’s the part no one talks about:
There was grief.
Not just about the job — but about who I thought I was.

What came next was messy, uncomfortable, unplanned.

But also, unexpectedly… fertile.

During my gardening leave (actual pruning + existential pruning – see pic), I started asking:

🌱 What do I really want from work?
🌱 What do I really want from life?
🌱 What kind of leader do I want to be?
🌱 How do I make it meaningful this next time?

The answers didn’t come quickly or neatly. But they were honest. And they changed everything.

Martin and I moved countries. I started my own business.
And over the next few years, this new chapter of my life became one of the most successful and fulfilling of all time.
The business thrived. So did I.

Here’s what I’ve learned:
– Growth rarely feels good in the moment
– It often looks messy, like chaos, doubt, or failure
– But it can be the start of something extraordinary

These days, I often coach leaders who are going through their own messy middles: redundancy, loss of direction, reinvention.
It can be a lonely, destabilising time. But it’s also rich with possibility.

Together, we create space to:
✅ Process what’s happened (and what it means)
✅ Reconnect to strengths, values and purpose
✅ Explore what might come next
✅ Emerge stronger and more energised for the next chapter

Some of the powerful questions I ask include:
💬 What part of you is grieving and what part might be growing?
💬 Who are you without the job title?
💬 If this is an inflection point, what might it be pointing you toward?
💬 What would it mean to rebuild—not just your career, but your confidence?

If you’re in the messy middle, I see you.  Hang in there. That’s where change (and real growth) begins.

I’d love to hear your messy story.