I started working at 17.
I never imagined it would become a 50-year journey.
Work became much more than a job. It shaped how I saw myself, how I measured success, and for many years, how I understood my place in the world.
A LIFE BUILT AROUND WORK
Work was never just something I did.
It became part of who I was.
I spent most of my adult life doing work I loved — leading teams, developing people and working across different countries and cultures
I loved the challenge, the responsibility and, most of all, the people. There was enormous satisfaction in watching people grow and in knowing that, in some small way, I had helped them along their journey.
But when work fills so much of your life, something else can happen almost without you noticing. Your professional identity and your personal identity begin to merge.
I became very good at being the person my career needed me to be.
THE PEOPLE BEHIND THE JOURNEY
No career is built alone.
Behind my career was a family who adapted, supported and sometimes sacrificed so that I could keep moving forward.
And beside me throughout that journey was my husband. For 50 years, he has been my constant. His support gave me the freedom to take opportunities, travel, lead and build the career that became such a large part of my life. There were undoubtedly times when my work asked as much of him as it did of me.
While I was building a career, I was also a wife, a mother to three amazing children, a grandmother, a friend and part of a family. They were part of that journey too — adapting to its demands, sharing the sacrifices and celebrating the successes.
My Mom, Dad, my brothers and sister also played a pivotal role in shaping who I became. Their love, guidance, encouragement, and support gave me the foundation and confidence to pursue my dreams.
Yes, there was guilt. There were sacrifices. And there were times when I had to be stronger than I felt.
But there was also pride — especially in knowing that the opportunities my career created allowed me to open the world a little wider for my children, my granddaughter and those I love.
Looking back, I understand much more clearly how often those worlds had to make room for one another — and how much the people closest to me contributed to what I was able to achieve – my journey was never mine alone — it was shared with, and enriched by, the people I love.
The achievements may have carried my name, but the journey belonged to all of us.
WHEN EVERYTHING CHANGED
And then, in March 2021, it stopped.
In March 2021, the last company I had helped establish in South Africa closed. I had poured so much of myself into building it.
One of the hardest things I have ever had to do was tell 52 people that their jobs were gone. These were not numbers on a spreadsheet. They were people I knew, people I had worked alongside, and people whose lives and families would be affected by what was happening.
I had spent years being the person who was expected to have answers, make decisions and keep moving forward. This time, there was very little I could fix.
And somewhere in the middle of dealing with everything that had to be done, something else disappeared too.
My professional identity.
For most of my adult life, work had given me structure, purpose and a very clear answer to the question, “What do you do?”
Suddenly, I didn’t have that answer anymore.
And I wasn’t quite sure who I was without it.
THE SPACE BETWEEN
I did what I had always done. I kept moving.
After the company closed, I moved into consulting. It made sense. I had decades of experience, knowledge and relationships — and there was still plenty I could contribute.
And for a while, it worked.
I was busy. I was useful. I was doing something I knew how to do.
But slowly, a different question began to surface.
Did I actually want another career?
For most of my life, the next step had always meant moving on — the next challenge, the next responsibility, the next thing to achieve.
This time, I began to wonder whether moving forward might mean something entirely different.
Perhaps I didn’t need to replace what I had lost.
Perhaps I needed to make space for something new.
The Wall
Somewhere along the way, I had built a wall.
I don’t remember deciding to build it. It happened gradually, over years of leadership, responsibility and being the person others looked to for answers.
I learnt to be strong. To remain composed. To solve problems and keep going, even when things were difficult. Those qualities served me well. They helped me lead, make difficult decisions and find my way through some very challenging times.
But strength can become armour.
Without really noticing it, I had become careful about what I showed and what I kept behind the wall.
And when the career began to fall away, I slowly started to realise that perhaps I didn’t need that wall quite as much anymore.
Taking down the wall hasn’t made me weaker.
It has allowed me to become more open, more connected and more myself.
Seeing differently
And then I started to notice things.
In 2024, something began to change.
I started spending more time with my camera. I began noticing birds, landscapes, light, small details in nature — things that had probably always been there, but that I had rarely slowed down enough to really see.
Photography gave me a reason to stop. Birds gave me a reason to look more closely.
And nature gave me something I hadn’t realised I was missing — stillness.
None of this was planned. I wasn’t looking for a new purpose or trying to reinvent myself. I was simply becoming curious again.
And somewhere along the way, I realised something else.