Often, when we quit a job or have a big change in our lives, we are told to “take good care of ourselves.” But what does that look like? I reached out to my friend, Shannon of Harmony on Hope Massage, and resident self-care expert, her thoughts. What I received completely changed the way I think about self-care.

Exiting a job gracefully can be one of the hardest parts of any job transition. Here, Serena Manna dives into how she handled the guilt associated with leaving, strengthened the connections she was worried about losing, and actually improved her sense of self in the process.

In this edition of #CareerDiaries, we'll hear from a 30 year-old nonprofit professional who, after seven years with her organization, is talking herself through the roller-coaster of putting in her notice and launching her own business.

Wondering how to know if it’s time to move on from your current position?

Here’s a guide to deciphering that feeling in your gut: The Scale of Loathing from Pamela Slim…

The Great Resignation: that's what they're calling this time, when 30-40% of the workforce is expected to leave their current positions.

I’ve heard from so many of you who are asking yourselves: Should I stay or should I go? (And if I do go, how do I face those unknowns?)

To help you navigate these career moves, I'm planning a full week of tips, resources, and tools for making a job transition—it’s called Quit Week. (In my head, it has all the hype of Shark Week plus the practicality of a how-to handbook.)

One thing that all of my career coaching clients have in common: Whirlwind minds.

Everyday, they're playing a game of mental ping-pong, trying to figure out what the heck they want, how or if they can make it happen, and whether they deserve it.

One day, a possibility sounds promising. The next, they're...not so sure.

Navigating career questions is confusing and lonely. You can't be open with everyone around you about your dreams, doubts, and desires.

When you do share your dreams with others, you get advice and guidance that is often well-meaning but misguided.

Even within your own mind, it's a constant dialogue of tamping down the self-doubt.

It can make you feel like you're out of your mind…

this time, when 30-40% of the workforce is expected to leave their current positions.

After my last essay about burning out from my nonprofit position, I heard from so many of you that the story resonated.

And right now, so many of my clients are asking themselves: Should I stay or should I go? (And if I do go, how do I face those unknowns?)

These conversations are bringing me back to a book that I read around the time I was thinking of leaving—David Whyte's Crossing the Unknown Sea: Work as a Pilgrimage of Identity.

There was this one idea from one chapter that felt like it was written just for me.

I felt called out and called forward at the same time.

I think that it might do the same for you:

Four years ago, I quit my job as the associate director of a statewide nonprofit to work at the front desk of a massage therapy studio. It made no sense. You won't see it on my resume. But it's the most meaningful career move I've made. Here’s why.

Imposter Syndrome is the feeling that you're unworthy of the opportunities you've been granted—that you've gotten lucky or tricked everyone around you into thinking you're competent or smart enough.

Despite any success and accolades, you still feel like you're fooling everyone, and at some point they'll realize the mistake and find you out. You're forever doubting your abilities and waiting to be exposed as a fraud.

I see it especially in people who are stepping into new levels of leadership and responsibility or into a new work environment.

While it's a comfort to know that you're not the only one who may be carrying these self-doubts, it's time that we rethink this "syndrome" from something that holds us back to something that can propel us forward—as individuals, as companies, and as a society.

For today's Resource Friday: a roundup of job boards focused on careers that contribute to social impact.

They range from for profit to social enterprise to nonprofit, from design work to environmental sustainability and everything in between.

I graduated with a liberal arts degree and absolutely zero understanding of how to frame my skill set. My skills felt like a useless, random, confusing tangle of vague concepts that failed to point me in a clear direction.

It took years for me to understand that, even as someone without specialized expertise, I did have a solid skill set that was marketable, transferable, and valuable—what I didn't have were the right tools to help me articulate and understand it.

Read more about the skills are actually the most valuable and tools in your toolbox—and the ones that you can most easily take with you from job to job.

Today's Friday Resource: How to find a workplace that values & delivers psychological safety.

Tucked into this Harvard Business Review article by Cindy Gallop and Tomas Chamorro-Premuzic (excellent read!) is a list of fantastic questions to ask your interviewer or a current employee about the psychological safety of a potential work environment…

“Let’s start with some introductions,” he says, getting the meeting going.

Cue the cold sweat. My mind starts racing.

Instead of listening to everyone else share their backgrounds, I'm internally panicking about how I'm going to communicate who I am as a professional.

Does this happen to you?

I hear it from my clients all the time—they're not really sure how to articulate who they are professionally.

Our default is to blurt out our job title and company, but we're so much more than that…

One of my clients was laid off from a job she loved last summer. She was constantly on the lookout for new roles, but few postings felt like the right fit for her—and the ones that did weren't leading anywhere.

In one of our coaching sessions, she said: “I think I need to Good Will Hunting this whole thing.”

I laughed. “What does that mean?”

She explained: “Write my own role and cast myself.”

I groaned, because I felt such a visceral YESSSS bubble up from my core.

When I was in my early twenties, I watched a lot of my peers go to graduate school.

It mystified me because I always believed that investing time and money in an advanced degree meant knowing for sure that this right here is my specific thing, having a clear sense of direction.

I sure didn’t have that. And I didn’t know how others my age did.

More often than not, I suspected that my friends went to grad school not out of clarity of purpose but rather out of fear.

Education can enrich us—it can be a catalyst that propels us.

But it can also hold us back—it can be a place to retreat to out of fear.

Here are five types of fear that drive us to learn…

When I found myself at a career crossroads two years ago, I polled about 85 people for their opinions on what I should do. I had been climbing the ladder in my organization for seven years—through five job titles—and had reached the point where something needed to shift. The problem was, I wasn’t sure what to shift: Do I scale back my hours? Advocate to reshape my role? Find another role in a larger nonprofit? Finally launch my own business?

I asked friend after mentor after trusted colleague for their guidance. Since I was feeling so wobbly about the decision within myself, I was stuck in a spin of wanting someone to tell me exactly what to do. But after the 85th conversation, I realized: no one could make this decision except for me. And I had no idea of how to do that.

Decision-making is central to the modern career landscape. That means that we’re in the driver’s seat; we are the decider of where we’re going. That gives us a lot of freedom to explore, follow our interests and talents, and grow in exciting ways. But it’s also a huge responsibility to be in control of our own paths. It means that we’re making more decisions than ever before—and we need to get better at making those choices. Here’s how.

We are living in a time when careers aren't just work—they are an opportunity for self-expression.

We want more from our jobs than a steady paycheck and stability; we're looking for meaning, an opportunity to make a difference.

This might sound like the type of statement that would make the higher ups start rolling their eyes and lament about those darn high-maintenance millennials. But I believe that it's not just a millennial trait. Our larger American work culture is changing, and the age of purpose is a part of that shift...

I'm a gal that loves a good meeting. Wait, I'll say that again: I love a good meeting. There is an art to setting up and facilitating an effective meeting—and it's one of those opportunities to step up as a leader, whether that status is embedded in your title or not. When you facilitate a meeting that respects others' time and leads to productive forward movement, people take notice.

I have a recipe box on my desk that is filled with recipes for a good meeting.

Rather than ingredients for a soup, the cards detail ways of facilitating individual and community reflection, checking in on the status of a collaborative project, and building trust and a shared knowledge base in teams…

I'm headed to two graduations this weekend, and that sea of caps and gowns makes me think back to my own transition from those "time-honored walls" into the real world. 

Here's a snapshot of baby Carole Ann, with my mom adjusting my silly hat and glasses; I was SO ready to close the "good student" chapter of my life and take the world by storm. But there was a hitch: I graduated with a liberal arts degree and absolutely no understanding of how to frame my skill set. (Can I get an amen?)

I'm thinking this week about David Whyte's Crossing the Unknown Sea: Work as a Pilgrimage of Identity, which I read years ago but continues to stay with me as one of my favorite books about career paths. Whyte is a poet who applies poetry to corporate life; he's even sometimes known as the Corporate Poet (you guys, there's truly a job out there for each of us). 

In his book, he examines the meaning of Rainer Maria Rilke's poem, The Swan, translated by Robert Bly, as it applies to our work identities. Swans lumber awkwardly on land, but as soon as they lower themselves into the water, they become an image of grace and belonging.