Making the change

When I turned 50, I wrote a blog about change and transitions. I read it again recently and decided to update it with the benefit of a little more mileage and perspective.

Back then, I felt I’d reached the end of a big transition period and needed to pause and take stock. That instinct still feels right to me: every so often life asks us to lift our heads, look around and notice where we are now compared with where we were.

Change is constant, but transitions are different. We all navigate everyday changes pretty well, but there are points where we cross a threshold into a new phase of life. Some are obvious markers: leaving education, starting or ending relationships, career shifts, becoming a parent or carer, retirement, bereavement. Others are more internal: a nagging sense that something no longer fits, or that you’ve grown out of a role or an identity. Often we sit with that mismatch for a long time before we act on it.

One distinction that still feels crucial to me is the difference between changes we choose and changes that happen to us. We can’t control everything, but we can influence how we meet change. Part of that is the frame we use: are we mostly trying to move away from something we don’t want, or towards something we do?

At 50, I was very aware of that “away from / towards” balance. I could have focused on what I wanted to escape: an unfulfilling role, lack of flexibility, the emotional weight of family health issues. Instead, I tried to articulate what I was moving towards: more autonomy, a different way of working, the ability to be present for ageing parents, more alignment between my values and my day‑to‑day life. The evidence still suggests that “towards” goals tend to be more motivating and sustainable than “away from” ones, and that matches my lived experience too. It didn’t make everything easy, but it gave me a clearer North Star.

Looking back, that period around 50 was a cluster of transitions:

• Children leaving home and heading to university

• My father’s Alzheimers worsening

• My in‑laws’ health declining

• Organisational change at work and the possibility of redundancy

• The milestone birthday itself

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On paper, it could have been a perfect storm. In reality, it became a gateway. I took redundancy, set up a small B&B, started my coaching and consultancy business and changed how I worked so I could be more available to my family. It was far from neat or effortless, but it was one of the most positive change periods of my life – including the turning‑50 bit.

Of course, some changes come with no notice and no choice: sudden loss, illness, unexpected job loss, a crisis that turns everything upside down. I wouldn’t want to minimise the shock and grief of those experiences. What I still believe, though, is that even in those situations we can reclaim some agency by noticing: What can I influence? Where do I have choices, even small ones? How do I want to show up in this?

When our children left home, my husband and I had been rehearsing that transition in our heads for about a year. We’d told them we’d be renting out their rooms. We boarded the loft together, boxed up their belongings and made a series of small, practical moves. From the outside, some people were horrified. From the inside, it helped all of us adjust. They stepped into their new lives as young adults; we stepped into a different phase of parenting and partnership. These days when they visit, it feels much more like adult‑adult relationships – one of the unexpected gifts of that transition.

If I were to distill what I’ve learned since writing that original blog, it would be something like this:

• You can’t stop change, but you can shape your response.

• Sustained change takes time, planning and a lot of self‑compassion. We move through phases – excitement, fear, grief, resistance, curiosity – often in loops rather than straight lines.

• It helps to imagine your future self - one, two or five years ahead, and then work backwards. What are the small, realistic steps that would make that version of you more likely? What’s one thing you could start, stop or experiment with in the next month?

• Timing matters. Sometimes the bravest thing is to move; sometimes the wisest thing is to wait. Not acting yet can also be a conscious choice.

• Support is part of the work, not a luxury. Skills, knowledge, money, rest, friendships, professional help – all of these can be part of your transition toolkit.

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A coaching reflection

If you’re standing on the edge of a transition – or in the messy middle of one – you might like to journal on a few questions I often use with clients (and with myself):

• What phase of transition are you in right now: anticipating, in the thick of it, or looking back?

• If you’re honest, are you mostly trying to move away from something, or towards something? What would a clear “towards” picture look like?

• What’s within your control in this season – however small – and what isn’t? How might it feel to focus your energy on the part you can shape?

• Looking 1–3 years ahead, what would “a good outcome” from this transition look and feel like for you?

• What are the next two or three tiny, practical steps that would move you in that direction? Who or what could walk alongside you?

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If you’re finding it hard to get clarity, structured support can make a real difference. Working with a coach during transition isn’t about someone else deciding for you; it’s about having a thinking partner to help you notice patterns, name what matters most and design realistic next steps.

And if, like me, you stumble across an old blog, journal or notebook from a previous version of you, it’s worth pausing over it. There’s something grounding about seeing what you feared, hoped for and chose back then – and realising how far you’ve already travelled.