The Question That Changes Everything After a Major Change

Many of us have a role that has quietly become who we are. It might be a career, a title, a sport, or a chapter of life that we never imagined ending. We can become so efficient at being that role that we stop asking who we are underneath it. And then, sometimes suddenly and sometimes slowly, that role ends.

Matt Young, a former professional footballer who spent eight years playing before becoming a high-performance coach and ultramarathoner, talked with me about exactly this kind of identity rupture and how we find our footing again (Life by Design, 2026). He talked about how he knew how to be ‘Matt Young the footballer,’ but was far less certain of who Matt Young the human being was.

This type of experience can show up after a job loss, a retirement, a relationship ending, or any chapter that organized our days and our sense of worth and identity for years. When a career, a role, or an identity disappears, we somehow expect ourselves to “figure it out” and move on quickly. Yet the deconstructing of an identity takes real time, and rushing it rarely makes us land anywhere solid.

Matt shared that in the aftermath of a change, most people jump right into asking themselves, “What should I do now?” It’s a practical question, but it can send our brain looking for the path of least resistance. We take the next available job, the next safe option, the thing that gets us moving again without much thought, because moving feels better than sitting in the unknown.

The alternative question is, “What do I want now?” This one takes longer to answer and asks us to look inward before we look outward. It’s one that opens the door to possibility, to agency, and to a future that feels aligned with who we are today.

I’d invite you to sit with this for a moment. Not what should you do, but what do you want? What do you want your days to feel like? What do you want more of in your life right now? What do you want less of?

Key Practices for Embracing Life’s Next Summit

Whether you are in the middle of a transition, feeling unmoored after a big change, or sensing that something in your life has run its course, here are some practices from my conversation with Matt that can feel helpful:

Allow space for honest reflection: The first and perhaps most important step is simply to sit in the in-between. Make space to grieve, to let go, and to feel the ache of what has been lost. It is common to feel lost or void after a major transition. We may find ourselves in a valley before the next mountain, and that is okay. “What should I do now?” can keep us in maintenance mode, doing what’s safe or expected. “What do I truly want?” opens us up to creativity and possibility.
Identify what your past gave you, then seek it elsewhere: When Matt’s football career ended, he eventually did something quietly profound: he stopped trying to replace the sport and started understanding what it had given him: purpose, discipline, connection, meaning, and challenge. Once he named those things, he could look for new vehicles to meet the same needs. Deep work begins by understanding what your previous pursuit offered on an emotional level. Get specific about what the old role was actually meeting in you, and then get curious about where else those same needs might be met, knowing the vehicle can change. Once we know what we’re really seeking, we can get creative about where those needs might be met next, rather than desperately trying to reconstruct the past. The goal is to move towards something new that honours your evolving needs, gifts, and values.
Give yourself permission to dream without limits: Matt shared a memory of flipping through a holiday catalogue as a child, highlighter in hand, circling anything he wanted, no limitations whatsoever. As children, we are unapologetic dreamers. As adults, we go through that same exercise mentally and start editing before we have even finished the sentence. That is not practical. I cannot afford that. That is not really a priority. Those edits happen so quickly and automatically that we often do not notice how much possibility we are cutting off before we have even let ourselves imagine it.

In my own work, I often invite people to imagine three versions of a path forward: the one closest to what they already know, a bolder alternative, and then a version with absolutely no limits at all, no risk, no judgment, and nothing held back. It is almost always that third version that gets people leaning in, writing faster, and reconnecting with a kind of aliveness they had stopped expecting from their own life. We are not obligated to act on every wild idea. But we do need to let ourselves have them, because they often point toward what has been missing. You are allowed to get your hopes up.
Chunk down the challenge in front of you: When we’re facing something that feels insurmountable, breaking bigger goals into smaller, manageable pieces can make even the toughest endeavors feel approachable. This applies as much to reinvention as it does to running an ultramarathon. You do not have to solve your entire future today. You just have to take the next right step.

Final Thoughts

If you find yourself in transition, between identities, roles, or life seasons right now, remember that clarity is more likely to come from exploration than from staying stuck in “shoulds.”

Your brightest future might start with asking, “What do I want?” and giving yourself permission to imagine, to hope, and to seek what truly matters to you now. Trust that you can carry your lessons and strengths into unknown territory, co-creating a life that truly lights you up.

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