I had dreamt of being a CEO since I was nine years old, when I first started reading business magazines. By the time I reached the position of Vice President of Asia Pacific & Japan at global tech company VMware, I realised the view wasn’t what I thought it would be. 

When I got to the top, I felt disconnected. Sure, the power was real, but so was the emptiness. I had spent years building a career on titles, proving I could do it, but in that moment, I felt hollow. The dream I’d chased since I was nine wasn’t wrong; it just wasn’t the whole picture. What I hadn’t expected was the isolation, the constant pressure to perform, and the lack of real fulfilment that a job title couldn’t give me. It was like my soul was knocking, telling me there was more for me, but I couldn’t grasp it. I felt it deep in my bones, a pull toward something bigger, but I couldn’t name it. A calling that was impossible to ignore, but harder still to define.

At the end of 2023, I was inundated in a series of events. VMWare was acquired in one of the largest tech M&As in history. My role was split into three, and when the new structure was laid out, I wasn’t interested in taking on any of it. I wanted the exit package. I had another job lined up, but that fell through due to a restructuring in that company. Then, another call came. Another great opportunity. But when I met the hiring manager, I felt disenchanted. That’s when I paused. I asked myself, is this really what I want to do next?

Signing my redundancy papers felt like closing a chapter I loved. I stood in my kitchen, staring into the silence. No meetings. No inbox full of decisions. No one needing me. Just me and a blank Google Doc. At my first networking event post-exit, I froze. “Hi, I’m Uma…” And then nothing. Without a title, I didn’t know who I was.

In 2025, I finally found the word I had been searching: careerquake.

Because nothing else fit. Not burnout. Not boredom. Not reinvention. A careerquake is different. It’s when the ground under your career splits wide open—not just a job lost, but a version of you cracked apart. 

That’s the thing about a careerquake: it is identity loss dressed as a job change. The scaffolding that was part of me for more than 20 years that held me—my title, my inbox, my place in the room—had collapsed.

Our identities are deeply intertwined with what we do. We live in a world where roles and the work we put out define us. But when that job disappears, so does the version of us that’s tied to it.

Symptoms of a careerquake include a sense of disconnection from your work and your team; feeling like you’re playing a role you didn’t audition for; a desire to break free from the pressure to constantly perform or deliver; grief over a version of yourself that’s no longer aligned with what you’re doing, and a quiet longing for something different, but you can’t figure out exactly what it is.

For me, it started with small signs: burnout that didn’t make sense, a loss of excitement for work that once energised me, and the quiet question—when I was willing to put my ego aside—of whether this was really what I wanted to do next. It wasn’t just a job loss; it was the unraveling of an identity I’d spent years building. And like many others who’ve felt it, I found myself in the pause, trying to figure out what to do with the pieces that were left behind.

It’s disorienting. It’s painful. But it’s also clarifying.

Careerquakes force better questions: Would I choose this life if I weren’t already in it? What have I outgrown? Who am I becoming? They push you to bet on yourself—louder, braver, without a safety net.

The most important thing I did for myself during that time was to learn how to be still with no distractions. It was so hard not to default to doing something, which I did immediately after my redundancy.

But this pause gave me the space to hear myself again. I sifted through the noise and realised what I thought I needed wasn’t always aligned with what was right for me. I began to see the bigger picture—not just the career moves, but who I was becoming. Sometimes, the most powerful step forward is simply stopping to reflect and reconnect with what truly matters to you.

I’m still on my own path of designing my next career—testing ideas, building my own platforms, investing in my growth, and learning how to build a life and career that isn’t defined by titles, but by the work, relationships, and impact I’m consciously creating in this next chapter.

When the ground shakes, you either cling to the rubble or use it to build something no one else could imagine for you.

(Uma Thana Balasingam is a leadership and reinvention strategist, entrepreneur, writer, keynote speaker and movement builder. She previously led billion-plus dollar businesses across 48 markets and has been recognised multiple times on global technology lists. She is also the force behind Lean In Singapore, Walk The Talk and The ELEVATE Group, communities that have empowered thousands to lead and rise in their careers.)