I had convinced myself that I had ended up exactly where I was meant to end up.
And maybe, in some ways, I did.
But when I really look back now, with clearer eyes, I don’t actually believe those jobs were me.
Yes, I made things happen. I worked hard. I achieved. I earned good money. I gained life experience, resilience, knowledge, insight into people and systems. There were huge lessons in all of it. I can see now that the universe was still moving with me through those experiences, helping me grow, helping me uncover parts of myself I didn’t even know were there.
But those environments also shrunk me.
They taught me how to fit into other people’s perceptions of who I should be. They rewarded compliance. They rewarded being useful. Palatable. Quiet enough not to make too much noise.
And over time, I adapted to that.
Not consciously. Not because I lacked intelligence or ambition. Quite the opposite actually. I think I became exhausted from constantly trying to be heard in spaces that had already decided who I was before I’d even spoken.
So I stopped pushing. I stopped expressing the fuller version of myself. I followed scripts that were never written for me in the first place.
When I look back now, I don’t feel regret in the dramatic sense people often talk about. I feel sadness. Not devastation. Just sadness for the woman I can now clearly see had far more potential than she allowed herself to believe.
I can see how often I played small and how often I adapted myself to survive environments that underestimated me. And the biggest truth? I underestimated myself too.
I spent years in male-dominated environments where there was often an unspoken expectation about who held authority in the room. You’d walk into meetings beside a less qualified male counterpart and people would instinctively look to him for confirmation, even when he was speaking absolute nonsense. I would have to push twice as hard to be heard. Lift my voice further. Over-explain. Prove myself repeatedly.
And after a while, that wears you down. Especially when you’re intuitive enough to see it happening in real time.
There were moments I completely disconnected from my own thinking. I almost went into autopilot. I stopped engaging the deeper parts of myself because constantly fighting to be recognised became exhausting. Sometimes I produced work I wasn’t proud of because I was simply following systems, agendas and expectations that never aligned with who I actually was.
I dulled myself down to survive spaces that didn’t fully value women like me unless we made ourselves smaller first. It wasn't everyone but there was enough of them to have a lasting impact.
Sweetheart. Darling. The girl from the office.
I can still feel the frustration of it. Not because I believe I had all the answers. I didn’t. I was learning too. I valued wisdom from others. I needed guidance at times. But I also know now that there was far more intelligence, creativity and leadership inside me than I allowed myself to access.
I kept handing credit away, making myself quieter, kept fitting into boxes that were too small because somewhere along the line I became conditioned to believe everyone elses thoughts mattered more than mine
What’s strange is I genuinely loved parts of those worlds too.
I loved aspects of health and safety and of the global finance offerings, . I loved problem solving, systems, people, security, leadership, structure, psychology, human behaviour. There are so many pieces I’m grateful for. I loved many of the people. I loved parts of the environments themselves.
But the role I was playing inside them was never fully me.
It was me wearing clothes that fit just well enough to convince myself they belonged to me. Paying the bills and being drawn in by the benefits. I am heartfelt grateful for the positive ripple effect of the finances, travel, gifts, exposure to the rewards corporate world brings. But was the personal expense worth it
And maybe that’s what midlife gives you if you allow it.
Not bitterness.
Perspective.
The ability to finally separate who you truly are from who you learned to become in order to function.
For years I told myself I wouldn’t change anything because all roads led here. And I still believe there’s truth in that. The experiences mattered. The lessons mattered. The universe absolutely met me in those spaces and used them to guide me towards myself.
But if I’m being fully honest now?
Yes. I would change things.
I would have chosen more creativity. More freedom. More self-trust. Less proving. Less compliance. Less shape-shifting to fit environments that could only accept parts of me at a time.
I would have stopped abandoning myself just to succeed inside systems that were never designed to hold women fully.
Still, I don’t hate my past. I’m proud of myself.
I made things happen. I stretched myself. I learned relentlessly. I achieved things that were difficult. I gained depth, wisdom and resilience that now shape everything I do.
But I can also finally admit this:
Much of it was performance.
Capable performance. Successful performance. Intelligent performance.
But performance all the same.
And now, looking back with midlife eyes, I can see clearly that I was never actually meant to stay inside those boxes forever.
