Have you ever stood at the “top of the mountain” only to realize the view wasn’t what you expected?
Everything looks perfect from the outside. You’re hitting your targets, winning the awards, and everyone sees a success story. But underneath the layers of achievement, there is a nagging feeling you only want to whisper: “Wait, this isn’t exactly the happy ending I imagined.”
That was me after eight incredible years at Google. On paper, it was perfect. I led global products and managed massive teams. My identity was solid: “Mor the Director,” “Mor the Tech Executive.” I built my entire sense of self around that role.
But then, things started to shift. It wasn’t one dramatic event; it was a slow, persistent erosion. When I started voicing my doubts, everyone asked the same thing: “Who leaves Google?”. That question reflected my deepest fear: If I’m not a Director at Google, who am I? What remains of me when that shiny title is gone?
The Grief of the Former Self
This wasn’t my first identity crisis. Years earlier, while battling cancer, I lost my greatest anchor of strength: long-distance running. Because of the treatments, my ability to breathe was compromised. In an instant, “Strong Mor” was gone.
A friend told me something I’ll never forget: “Mor, I think the loss of running is actually harder for you than the cancer itself.” He was right. I wasn’t just grieving the miles; I was grieving the version of myself that was a runner. Whether it was leaving a corporate giant or losing the ability to run, the “label” I used to define myself as “strong” had been stripped away.
Why Your Brain Treats Change Like a Threat
If you feel paralyzed by the idea of making a move, you aren’t “weak.” You’re human.
Our brains are not evolved to prioritize our happiness; they are evolved to prioritize our survival. To your “lizard brain,” the unknown is the same as a predator in the bushes. When you consider leaving a secure job or changing your life, your amygdala, the brain’s alarm system, screams “Danger!”
This creates a cognitive bias called Loss Aversion. We are psychologically wired to feel the pain of losing a title or a routine twice as strongly as the joy of gaining a new opportunity. We stay in roles that no longer fit because the “known miserable” feels safer than the “scary blank space.” Understanding that this fear is just a biological glitch can be the first step toward moving past it.
A Toolkit for the Transition
Here are three strategies I used to find my way back to myself:
1. Expand Your “Self-Complexity” Psychologist Patricia Linville found that the more “dimensions” we have to our lives (parent, friend, volunteer, hobbyist, student), the more protected we are. If your entire identity is tied to your job, you collapse when that job ends. Cultivate different parts of yourself so that no single loss can take everything away.
- Source: Read more about Self-Complexity Theory in Linville’s landmark study.
2. Try on “Provisional Selves” Prof. Herminia Ibarra found that people who successfully reinvent themselves don’t wait for a “lightbulb moment.” They start with small experiments. Before I left Google, I started “trying on” coaching through certification and volunteering. I took a Sabbatical to experiment further with this “provisional self” of mine, without the pressure of “what are you going to do next?” I was testing a new way of being to see if it felt like home.
- Source: Explore Ibarra’s framework in her book Working Identity.
3. Distill the Values, Not the Activity When I lost running, I had to ask: What did I actually love about it? It was the freedom and the quiet. Once I identified those values, I found new ways to experience them: the quiet in meditation, and the freedom in long treks. The core of who I am stayed; only the way I expressed it changed.
Finding Your Center
Losing your identity is terrifying, but it is also a massive opportunity. It’s the moment you realize your value is much bigger than any title or physical ability.
Change doesn’t happen through deep thinking; it happens through action. You don’t need to have a five-year plan to take the first step toward something new.
So, what is one small thing you can do today that has nothing to do with your job title?
If you’re navigating your own transition, let’s talk. I help leaders navigate these “messy middles” and rediscover their value beyond the office.
Mor Schlesinger 
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