The answer to realizing your reinvention dreams

The desire to change my career was always there, but I had to reframe one question before I could make the decision.

Women are always reinventing because change is unrelenting, and we are restless, resilient, and rebellious. Amid Life is a weekly newsletter about writing new chapters.

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Rangeley and I spotted changing leaves in August.

In northern Vermont, nature declares her intent to change in late summer. She chills August nights to spur autumn into motion amid the high branches of maple and beech. An innate chemical process follows. Chlorophyll breaks down the green, carotenoids highlight orange and gold, and sugar synthesizes in the leaves before their predictable fall.

For nature, change is continual and—well, natural. For humans? Not so much. We have choices and constraints. We have hopes and dreams. Shit happens.

The day my career reinvention began

At 27, I was married with two small children. While my husband pursued his dream to become a pilot, I didn't question what I needed to do. I used my 90 words-per-minute experience to apply for secretarial jobs with good benefits. Not once did I think to ask, what do I want?

When the hiring manager asked about my goals, I was stumped. Around me, greige carpet-paneled cubicles and metal filing cabinets said security. While deep inside me, my inner voice whispered, Not this! Not this!

Every action you take is like a vote for the person you want to become.

—James Clear, Atomic Habits

I took the job and ignored that inner voice for 28 years.

The decision to win

A few weeks ago, I was driving while listening to a podcast interview with Nancy Pelosi. "Winning an election is a decision," she said.

A skillful way to parse the delicate maneuvering behind the scenes of the Democratic nomination, sure. But then she added, "You make a decision to win, and then you make every decision in favor of winning."

I tapped rewind to hear it again. Many people had asked, 'Should he run?' and the candidate could not be moved. Until, as I imagine it going down, the question was reframed.

Q. What do you want?

A. I want to win.

With that clarification, a different decision was made, one that catalyzed a historic change.

WHAT do I want?

For three decades, I followed a fruitful, if unintentional, career path, and I'm proud of my accomplishments. I can confidently say I had my share of success as I rose from secretary to senior manager.

Until six years ago, when the whisper became a roar—NOT THIS!

I left my career without a plan for what would come next. I took one step, and then I ran, skipping and sprinting along a squiggly line in a frantic rush to find and fulfill my purpose. Even now, there are days when I find myself spiraling, disoriented and overwhelmed.

Should I focus on the book project or Substack subscriber growth? What about building my editing and writing group business? Do I pitch the Times or go for a long walk in the woods to connect with my muse? I know, I know. It’s ridiculous to whine. Every decision is mine to make.

Maybe I’ve been asking the wrong question.

This brings to mind the ending of Kazuo Ishiguro's Remains of the Day—a book I finally plucked out of my dusty TBR pile this summer.

The main character, Mr. Stevens, is a British butler (think Downton Abbey), who entered and excelled at the profession like his father before him—following a well-worn path, doing as expected. Mr. Stevens is immensely proud of his career, but as the times change, he’s paused to reflect on the path he diligently followed.

After encountering a man who’s labored hard and is now content to sit and watch the birds in his retirement, Mr. Stevens projects,

He chose a certain path in life, it proved to be a misguided one, but there, he chose it, he can say that at least. As for myself, I cannot even claim that.…  All those years I served [his lordship], I trusted I was doing something worthwhile. I can't even say I made my own mistakes. Really—one has to ask oneself—what dignity is there in that?

Happiness is a choice.

Joan Didion said the source of self-respect springs from "the willingness to accept responsibility for one's own life." At the novel's end, Mr. Stevens realizes something I’d like to believe I’ve always known.

Decide what you want and then make every decision after that to get it. Decide to win.

Maybe I chose a misguided path when I took that admin job in 1990. Absolutely, I made mistakes. But I don’t regret ignoring my inner voice for as long as I did. Once the kids were launched and my nest egg secured, the question could be reframed.

What do I want?

There's a light breeze coming through my office window as I write this. It's warm for mid-September as if the fields of goldenrod were absorbing the sun and the blazing maples were natural radiators.

I’ve decided to live my reinvention dream, to pursue a creative life amid the peaceful and ever-changing Vermont landscape.

It’s never too late to decide, and I’ve decided to take a walk.

Work hard. Be Brave. Believe.

Catherine