What counts as an identity crisis?

I sometimes think a real identity wobble isn’t a dramatic one.

It’s the quiet one, you declare you’re totally ready for a change, and then immediately find yourself alphabetising the spice cupboard instead.

We’ve all done it.

Big strategic plan to lead? Suddenly, replying to that unimportant email that’s been festering for a month feels urgent.

Important task? Perfect time to doomscroll LinkedIn. Tough conversation? Suddenly there’s time for a little chit-chat first.

Not because we lack ambition or because we’re scared of the big thing. But because a part of us is still stitched into the identity we’re trying to outgrow.

There’s a strange comfort in staying small, even when we know we’re capable of more.

I see it in leaders all the time (and honestly sometimes in the mirror).

Saying we want to speak up more, then slipping straight back into the dependable, predictable role everyone recognises.

Wanting a bigger impact, but apologising before we’ve even taken up space.

Craving clarity, but clinging to the messy middle because at least we understand its rules.

After my last post about titles and identity, I’ve loved the reflections people shared and messaged me with. Delicious connective threads that get you thinking. Or in my case, delving into etymology (see nerd confession from last post.)

Identity came from Latin idem meaning ‘the same,’ and identidem, meaning ‘over and over again.’

Still works today.

Identity isn’t fixed. It’s habitual.

You return to who you’ve been, especially when you’re not entirely sure who you’re becoming next.

Identity is sticky, like spice cupboards.

When you return or repeat a lesson, it’s not failure, but familiarity.

Have you ever sat with a friend who says they want something different, a new role, a bigger impact, a bolder direction, and in the very same breath they undercut themselves?

A joke to dilute the audacity. A self-deprecating comment to make the big dream sound less serious. A smallness wrapped in humour so no one mistakes their vision for ambition.

That’s the moment the old identity taps you on the shoulder and whispers, ‘Careful. Don’t get carried away. You don’t do big things.’

It’s one of the great human contradictions:

the thing you want to move forward with is often the very thing pulling you back.

I get to work with leaders in a space between who they were and who they’re becoming. Not pushing transformation, but helping them see why they’re clinging to an outdated version of themselves…and what becomes possible when they loosen their grip.

If it’s familiar, get curious:

What’s one part of your identity you say you’ve outgrown…but still find yourself returning to?

Perhaps it’s not change you’re afraid of.

It’s the quiet exposure that comes when you stop performing the identity everyone knows.

And this post was nearly replaced by a very intense debate about where to alphabetically place cumin seeds vs. ground cumin.

Definitely not my procrastination, of course. Asking for a friend.