Who Are You Without the Title?
What happens to your identity when you’re no longer defined by your title or your calendar?
Loss of identity — this is a doozy.
How many times have you introduced yourself with your job title attached? I know I did it all the time. I had many fear-stricken moments as I contemplated what I was going to tell people I was “doing.” I was my work. Sure, a mom. A daughter. A wife. A friend. But let’s get real — the one leading all others was “work” me. Without her, who was going to be in charge?
When I stepped off the professional treadmill, I thought I’d feel free. And at times, I did. But the first feeling that took hold wasn’t liberation. It was grief.
Deep, unexpected grief.
I wasn’t just leaving a role. I was leaving the life and identity I had spent two decades building. There’s a quote from Frederic Hudson that says it best:
“You grieve the loss of your structure and feel as if your own life had ended. Your sense of future is very bleak and your energy is very low….Your lamentation and mourning have gone on longer than you want…psychologically speaking [you are] by yourself, in suspension, in limbo and more aware of who you are not than who you are becoming.”
That landed hard. Because it was true. Even though I chose this sabbatical, I wasn’t immune to the mourning. The structure I once had — the pace, the meetings, the travel, the title — it was gone. And the woman left standing in its absence? She didn’t know what to say at cocktail parties.
I feared that if I spoke about this publicly — about leaving work, feeling lost, starting over — people would think less of me. That I’d torpedo my future career.
And then one day, my inner CEO took charge. She was tired of hiding. She reminded me that the only way to stay in integrity was to own the decision I had made and everything that came with it.
So I did something that terrified me: I posted about my sabbatical on LinkedIn.
The result? An outpouring of support. Invitations to connect. “Me too” messages in my inbox. People wanted to hear more. They weren’t repelled by my honesty — they were drawn to it. It was the first time I realized: I wasn’t losing my network, I was growing it.
Around that same time, I heard an interview with a former PR leader at Google who had left her role after organizing around employee rights. She said something that stopped me in my tracks:
“I will never again outsource my voice and identity to the company that employs me.”
That was it. That was the wound I hadn’t named yet — I had outsourced who I was to the structure around me. And now, for the first time in a long time, I had the chance to bring my identity back in-house.
So… who are you when there’s no title in front of your name?
What do your days look like when no one needs you at 9 a.m.?
Where do you place your worth when your productivity no longer defines you?
These aren’t easy questions. But they are the right ones.
Because identity isn’t lost when the calendar clears — it’s revealed. Not all at once. Not with fireworks. But gradually, through slow mornings, hard reflections, and surprising sparks of curiosity.
And what you build next will be rooted in something deeper than a job title. It will be built in truth.
If you’re interested in exploring this concept further, here are a few prompts that might be helpful:
When someone asks, “What do you do?” — what’s the first thing you want to say (beyond your job title)?
What are you afraid people might think if you no longer have a clear, impressive title? Where does that fear come from?
What would it look like to build a life — not just a schedule — around your energy instead of your obligations?
I’d love to hear from you! Are you on sabbatical, dreaming about one or have concluded one? Reach out, I’d love to connect live.