The 10 Step Career Pivot - Part 1

And how it took three years to understand the wisest advice I was ever given

At the very end of my training as a paediatric and neonatal surgeon in late 2021, my mentor, my proud ‘Work Dad’ gave me a beautiful notebook as a congratulatory gift. Inside, he wrote a personal dedication in the front, and on the first page, this piece of wisdom from his own mother.

How happy is he born and taught

who serveth not another’s will

Whose armour is his honest thought

and truthfulness his utmost skill

Just over three years later, I found cause worthy enough to spill my own ink onto the precious pages in this book, as I began

Beth Kempton

’s Ink and Flame course. Today, the day this wonderful course comes to an end, I have finally come to understand the true meaning of these words. Read through the lens of my ‘creative pause¹’, I am no longer employed and ‘serving another’s will’. I have reflected at length and depth to realise, and then to write, what my own honest thoughts and truths are, who I am, and what I really want to do with the rest of my life.

Today, two years to the day since I became a consultant surgeon after 23 years of study and postgraduate training, and nine months after my career as a surgeon ended, my career pivot feels complete.

In today’s socioeconomic climate, I know I’m not alone in re-evaluating my career priorities. While few may be tempted by quite as drastic a move as the one I’ve made, some might be interested to know how I finally found a way to move forward. The way, it turns out, is ten little steps.

Step One. There is no rush

Three weeks before the end of my fixed term consultant post, I re-interviewed for my job, as three posts were to be reduced to two. When I learned I was not successful, I went through stages of what can only be described as a form of grief. Though in time, this has turned into relief, even gratitude, there was a necessary process of sadness, loss, self recrimination and doubt to navigate. Of course there was also then an untangling of my life in my work city: notice to leave my tenancy, saying goodbye to friends, winding up contracts and the life logistics of moving out. I took extra shifts to prepare for the loss of salary as best I could and I landed back at my family home in a heap of exhaustion. With the long school summer holidays rapidly approaching, I gave myself the much needed permission to rest and enjoy the summer, before beginning the search for my next job in the autumn.

In two decades of work, other than maternity leaves - which every mother who has taken one knows is absolutely not a holiday - I had never had a break longer than a couple of weeks. Even then I’d invariably have revision to do, projects on the go, or patients to be checking on from a distance. To genuinely switch off was a revelation. This time was immensely restorative for my physical and emotional health as well as for my relationship with my children, who I had missed terribly during my time working away.

I’ve written previously about the reasons behind my decision not to return to surgery. In truth, the path to a new career has been somewhat winding, but I have been quite deliberate about taking my time and making sure that everything I did was framed by one core concept:

Resist the fear-driven urge to rush. When direction is unclear, focus only on The Next Right Step.

None of this is to say that it is necessarily comfortable, this liminal time of no-longer-a-surgeon, but not-quite-yet-anything-else. Financially, things are certainly tight. But I am approaching the next right step thoughtfully and trusting in myself. This, perhaps more than anything, feels like growth.

Step Two. Space to think

Twelve notebooks surround my desk. There are more in other rooms. Some are beautiful, some plain. All full of promise, potential, infinite possibility. Some I have filled already with to-do lists and birthday plans, cake drawings, or thoughts scribbled during meetings or lectures. Some hold thousands of words, dreams woven into stories or poems, each page bearing witness to parts of my life I’ve forgotten, or haven’t yet lived. Others await my next chapter.

A candle of ‘Black Fig and Amber’ glows lightly in an amber glass jar, the puddle of warm melted wax giving scent so divine, it invites me to sit at this desk, and inspires me to write. I never lit candles until I began to write, just three months ago. Now, it is a simple pleasure that grounds me, making my space cosy, and mine. This particular candle is handmade by a local independent mother-owned business², a fact which brings as much warmth as does its flame. Lighting the wick, gently observing the shimmer cast in the pocket of air above, is a ritual to guide my thoughts, to focus on what I’d like to say, but also to open my heart to frivolity, to poetry, to friendships, to ideas so audacious that I doubt my ability to claim them. I recalibrate in this blue-orange light, as it flickers, it calms me.

This is the space where most of my writing happens. Much of my thinking, too, though the thinking is complemented by long walks. On my desk is a giant screen into which I plug my laptop. This particular set up means that my neurodivergent brain can not only have multiple tabs open at once, but I can see three or more of them together should I choose to (and I do, often!). Surrounded by books, a favourite photograph of my children, and a west-facing window through which I can watch as the sky performs its slow sunset flamenco, this corner of my home is my sanctuary and the birthplace of my future.

A dedicated space to close the door and just be for a while can allow the mind to feel safe enough to dream and be inspired.

The space we need is not solely physical, though, among the busy-ness of life. And that’s where Step Three comes in.

Step Three. Seek the right support

Ok, so full disclosure here - I am very fortunate.

My husband is not just supportive, he makes everything possible for me. In fact I often feel guilty that he does so much. That’s not just me saying he’s a hands on Dad and we share the running of the household - a fair balance is how it should be. It’s more than that. When I worked away, he effectively solo-parented for 14 months. Even now that I’m home, he’s the one earning, working a full time job. But today, he’s sorted the laundry and taken the children out to a theme park to give me time to write, and will cook dinner for us all later. I know how lucky I am, and I’m immensely grateful that he sees what I’m trying to build with my writing. We’re all having to be more careful with spending while I’m not yet earning, but there’s no pressure, he believes in what I’m capable of, often more than I do. The strength in our relationship I think, is in how we communicate. We are open enough to understand each other’s perspective and can rebalance our day to day depending on the other’s needs. That support is truly invaluable.

Even with a supportive family, it can be difficult to fathom the wood from the trees in the midst of a career transition. This is where, for me, some professional support has been transformational. Working with my coach³ has shone a lantern through the forest of choices. With compassion and just the right amount of challenge, she held my hand as I took one ‘next right step’ after another and then she watched me learn to fly.

On the Substack platform, where my writing lives, there are many professionals offering their services to those who may be seeking direction. Therapist for professional women and friend,

Natasha Scullane

offers a fantastic ‘Aligned and Clear’ session which helped me to pin down my next moves. And I have found beautiful spaces here, such as

Claire Venus ✨

’ Sparkle on Substack,

Beth Kempton

’s SoulCircle, and

Anna Wharton

’s White Ink, where I have found mentorship and opportunity to learn and practice my new craft, along with a genuine sense of community. I think the key here, is amongst all the noise and adverts we are bombarded with daily:

Take time to consider what support would be of most benefit, and of all the people offering that support, who feels most aligned with the values most important to you.

In part two, next week, we’ll take a closer look at values, and walk through steps four to six -

• Who am I

• What makes me happy

• What drives me

I hope you’ll join me!

Louise x

Part two is now available here:

The 10 Step Career Pivot - Part 2

Have you been through any major transformations? I’d love to hear if the first of my pivot steps resonated with your experience, you’re very welcome to leave a comment or message me if you prefer. If you’re just finding me through this essay, please do hit the subscribe button to support my work (it’s free) and you’ll get the next essay as soon as it’s released.

If you enjoyed this post, you may be interested to read some of my other essays, such as this one, on possibility:

To explore further, you might like to take a look at the index of my work here:

1. My current favoured euphemism for unemployment

2. every nook - shop home fragrance online

3. If you’re interested in exploring coaching, I’d be very happy to put you in touch with her, send me a DM or reply to this email.