Hello, Reader!

A few days ago, I received some thoughtful feedback about my new book that made me stop.

The suggestion was logical: take all the reflection questions scattered throughout the book and turn them into an assessment. Let people score themselves, understand what action they need to take next, and perhaps book a paid call with me to discuss the results.

It was a perfectly reasonable idea.

And my immediate reaction surprised me.

I don't want to build that.

Not another assessment.

Not another funnel leading to a booking.

Not another system designed to turn reflection into a coaching call.

And then I realized that my reaction wasn't really about the assessment.

It was about something much bigger.

What am I still protecting by staying in coaching?

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I've been coaching for almost twenty years.

That's a long time to build a professional life.

There are people I've helped.
Relationships I've built.
Experience I've accumulated.
A professional reputation.

And an identity.

For years, “transformational coach” has been part of how I introduce myself to the world.

It's what my LinkedIn profile says.

It's what people who know me associate with me.

So what happens if I say:

I don't want this to be the center of my working life anymore?

---

But this change didn't begin recently.

I can trace it back to 2016, when I published my first book and started blogging.

At the time, I had no idea where it would lead.

I only knew that writing gave me a kind of satisfaction coaching didn't.

• I could think out loud.
• I could explore an idea more deeply.
• And, perhaps most importantly, I could reach people I would never meet in a coaching room.

Over the years, that feeling became stronger.

Two years ago, I started publishing books in English because I wanted to reach beyond the people I could personally coach.

And now, with Letters of Change, I'm discovering another way of doing the same thing: opening a conversation with people I may never meet in person.

---

And yet, here I am, still protecting the coaching identity I've built.

Perhaps because part of me still thinks:

If I stop calling myself a coach, will people still see me as someone worth listening to?

If I stop building a coaching practice, who will read my books?

If coaching is what I've done for almost twenty years, who am I without it?

These aren't easy questions.

And I don't think I have to answer all of them at once.

But I do know something now that I didn't know before.

• I don't want to spend the next chapter building an international coaching practice.
• I don't want coaching to be the day-to-day center of my professional life.
• I still know I can help people.
• I still enjoy a meaningful conversation with someone who needs support thinking something through.

And if a few people want to work with me individually, I'll be happy to help.

But that's different from building my life around finding coaching clients.

---

So what is the cost of staying?

For me, it's not simply time.

It's the energy of maintaining an identity that has gradually become too small.

It's continuing to explain myself through a role that no longer describes where my curiosity and attention are going.

It's allowing an old definition of my work to shape the opportunities I look for next.

And maybe it's postponing the work that is already calling me.

But leaving has a cost too.

I may lose some of the professional certainty I've built.

I may have to explain myself differently.

I may disappoint people who know me as a coach.

I may discover that the audience I've built for one kind of work doesn't automatically follow me into another.

And yes, that is uncomfortable.

---

Maybe that's what makes career transitions so complicated.

We're not always choosing between something bad and something better.

We're choosing between two things that both have a cost.

Staying can cost us something.

So can leaving.

We need to see both costs clearly before we can understand what we're actually choosing.

Staying in your job or profession is not necessarily a mistake.

It might be exactly the right choice for you today.

You may just need to fix or clarify something.

Perhaps the problem is not the career at all.

There may be people, responsibilities, financial realities, or other parts of life that make staying meaningful.

Questioning the status quo isn't about persuading ourselves to leave.

It's to become honest about what we're protecting by staying—and what it is costing us.

---

When I published my first book in 2016, I had no idea where it would take me.

I wasn't secretly planning this version of my life.

I was simply following something that gave me energy and meaning.

Ten years later, I can see that a transition can begin long before we give it a name.

Perhaps that's true for you too.

Maybe you're not deciding whether to leave tomorrow.

Maybe you're simply noticing that the direction you've been moving toward for years is beginning to ask for more of your attention.

And perhaps the useful question isn't:

“Should I stay or leave?”

But:

“What am I protecting by staying?”

You don't have to answer it publicly.

You don't even have to answer it today.

But it might be worth sitting with.

Until next time,

Elena