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You already know.Not in a fully formed, perfectly articulated way. But enough.Enough to know something isn’t quite right. Enough to know there must be something else. Enough to keep coming back to the same question — often at 4am, when your mind just won't switch off. On paper, things are fine. Good, even. You’re capable. You’re trusted. You’ve built something solid over time.And yet, there’s a sense you’ve outgrown it. Or moved away from something that once mattered more.So you think it through. Properly. From every angle. You weigh it up, consider the risks, play it out in your head.But you don’t act.You pause. You hold back. You stay where you are.Not because you don’t know.But because something is keeping you there.Something that makes it feel like you need a bit more certainty. A bit more clarity. Or someone else to say it makes sense. To tell you it’s okay to leave the role. To switch off at the end of the day — without feeling guilty. To back yourself in a conversation where you’d usually stay quiet. To signal that now is the right time to retrain, pivot, or start something new.As if the final step isn’t yours to take — but something that needs to be confirmed, agreed or validated first.That “something” is often less about the decision itself — and more about what you feel you need in order to act on it.<h2>Why we feel stuck (even when we know what we want) </h2>We don’t usually think of ourselves as people who need permission.We’re capable. Independent. Used to making decisions.And yet, in moments like this — career change, speaking up at work, making a move that doesn’t neatly fit — something shifts.We hesitate.Not because we lack options. But because we’ve internalised a set of expectations about what a “good” decision looks like.A career path that progresses in a straight line. A role that builds logically on the last. A relationship or a partner that displays certain key characteristics.Most of this isn’t enforced outright. It’s absorbed - from family, school, the workplace and what we see others doing.In a conversation with <a data-mce-href="https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/42-are-your-relationships-alive-with-esther-perel/id1564530722?i=1000541193523" href="https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/42-are-your-relationships-alive-with-esther-perel/id1564530722?i=1000541193523">Esther Perel on We Can Do Hard Things</a>, she talks about the invisible rules we inherit about relationships — rules we rarely question, but often organise our lives around.For example:<ul><li>that a “good” relationship should meet most of our needs</li><li>that stability should be protected, even at the expense of growth</li><li>that if nothing is obviously wrong, there’s no valid reason to want something different</li></ul>The same applies to work.So when something in us starts to shift — when you begin to feel stuck in your career or start considering a change — it doesn’t just feel like a preference.It feels like a risk.<figure id="figure-wb97ao56ydmo79fwba"><img id="wb97ao56ydmo79fwba" src="https://images.unsplash.com/photo-1772419143941-85207398389c?crop=entropy&amp;cs=tinysrgb&amp;fit=max&amp;fm=jpg&amp;ixid=M3wyNjI5NjF8MHwxfHNlYXJjaHw1MHx8d29tYW4lMjBoYW5kJTIwdXAlMjBxdWVzdGlvbiUyMGluJTIwZ3JvdXB8ZW58MHx8fHwxNzc2NjkzNDQ5fDA&amp;ixlib=rb-4.1.0&amp;q=80&amp;w=1080" alt="Asking for permission" title="Asking for permission" class="object-cover bg-gray-100 rounded-sm md:rounded-md lg:rounded-lg" style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;" data-corners="default" data-aspect="16:9" data-caption="" data-positionx="undefined" data-positiony="undefined" data-fullwidth="false" data-mce-src="https://images.unsplash.com/photo-1772419143941-85207398389c?crop=entropy&amp;cs=tinysrgb&amp;fit=max&amp;fm=jpg&amp;ixid=M3wyNjI5NjF8MHwxfHNlYXJjaHw1MHx8d29tYW4lMjBoYW5kJTIwdXAlMjBxdWVzdGlvbiUyMGluJTIwZ3JvdXB8ZW58MHx8fHwxNzc2NjkzNDQ5fDA&amp;ixlib=rb-4.1.0&amp;q=80&amp;w=1080" data-mce-style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;"></figure><h2>The quiet cost of staying where you are </h2>Staying where you are often looks sensible.You’re being thoughtful. Responsible. Measured.But underneath, something else is happening.You delay conversations you know you need to have. You stay in roles you’ve outgrown. You keep options open instead of committing to a clear next step. You soften what you actually want.Nothing dramatic. But over time, the gap widens — between what you know and how you’re living.And that gap has a cost.Energy. Confidence. Momentum.Not because you’re incapable. But because you’re holding yourself in a kind of limbo — often for longer than necessary.You see this particularly clearly with parents.When it comes to their child, there’s very little hesitation. They ask questions. Push for answers. Seek second opinions.They don’t wait for permission to advocate. They assume it.But when it comes to their own lives — their career, their direction, their next step — that clarity often disappears.The same person who is decisive and persistent on behalf of someone else can become cautious, uncertain, and deferential on their own behalf.I’ve seen this play out in different ways recently.<h2>Changing direction — and learning to value it</h2>One client I’ve worked with this year is nine years into her career. On paper, she feels “off track”.<figure id="figure-dlkvk0cjw7mo793pp3"><img id="dlkvk0cjw7mo793pp3" src="https://images.unsplash.com/photo-1436919831943-52437d8d9bfd?crop=entropy&amp;cs=tinysrgb&amp;fit=max&amp;fm=jpg&amp;ixid=M3wyNjI5NjF8MHwxfHNlYXJjaHwyOHx8d29tYW4lMjBoaWtpbmclMjBsb3N0fGVufDB8fHx8MTc3NjY5Mjk3Mnww&amp;ixlib=rb-4.1.0&amp;q=80&amp;w=1080" alt="off track career wise" title="off track career wise" class="object-cover bg-gray-100 rounded-sm md:rounded-md lg:rounded-lg" style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;" data-corners="default" data-aspect="16:9" data-caption="" data-positionx="undefined" data-positiony="undefined" data-fullwidth="false" data-mce-src="https://images.unsplash.com/photo-1436919831943-52437d8d9bfd?crop=entropy&amp;cs=tinysrgb&amp;fit=max&amp;fm=jpg&amp;ixid=M3wyNjI5NjF8MHwxfHNlYXJjaHwyOHx8d29tYW4lMjBoaWtpbmclMjBsb3N0fGVufDB8fHx8MTc3NjY5Mjk3Mnww&amp;ixlib=rb-4.1.0&amp;q=80&amp;w=1080" data-mce-style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;"></figure>She moved from the US to Spain. She stepped away from her original career path. She’s spent the last few years teaching English — work she doesn’t always feel confident positioning when thinking about her next move.She now wants to retrain and move into data science.And underneath, there’s a quiet narrative about her teaching role:This doesn’t really count. I’ve deviated from my career path. I need to get back on track.But when we look more closely, something else is true.In those years of teaching, she has been practising and developing:<ul><li>pattern recognition</li><li>creativity</li><li>versatility</li><li>patience</li><li>the ability to recognise and adapt to nuance</li><li>operating with a strong sense of ethics</li><li>experimentation — trying different approaches and learning what works </li></ul>All highly relevant to where she wants to go.She is doing meaningful work. Building relationships. Helping children grow in confidence.She is proud — quietly — of the progress she sees in them.The issue isn’t the experience. It’s the way she’s learned to value it.What she’s really looking for isn’t a better plan.It’s permission:<ul><li>to count this as real experience</li><li>to recognise what she’s actually been building</li><li>to tell the story in a way that supports her next step</li></ul><h2>Speaking up — more fluid, less structured</h2>In a different conversation, another client brought something that, on the surface, looked unrelated.She’s highly capable. Well regarded. Doing good work.And yet, when it comes to speaking up — particularly in moments that matter — she holds back.Not because she doesn’t have a point of view.But because saying it might create tension. Invite disagreement. Change how she’s perceived.So she defaults to being agreeable. Easy to work with. Likable.And underneath that, the same question:Is it okay to say this? Is it okay to push back? Is it okay if not everyone likes me?A few sessions in, the shift is subtle — but important.She’s starting to notice the moment before she people-pleases. The point where she softens something unnecessarily. The instinct to hold back.And occasionally, she chooses differently. Or she pauses.Which is enough.Because the habit isn’t just behavioural — it’s tied up in how she sees herself.And changing it starts with permission:<ul><li>to take up space</li><li>to be direct</li><li>to prioritise respect over approval&nbsp;</li></ul><h2>Permission isn’t coming</h2>Different situations. Same underlying question:Am I allowed to do this?The uncomfortable answer is: no one is coming to give you permission.Not your boss. Not your partner. Not your parents.And not even certainty.<figure id="figure-7tmt6gxnggmo78ywu3"><img id="7tmt6gxnggmo78ywu3" src="https://images.unsplash.com/photo-1652722466634-3445a90c868b?crop=entropy&amp;cs=tinysrgb&amp;fit=max&amp;fm=jpg&amp;ixid=M3wyNjI5NjF8MHwxfHNlYXJjaHwxNHx8dHJhZmZpYyUyMGxpZ2h0JTIwYW1iZXJ8ZW58MHx8fHwxNzc2NjkyNzYzfDA&amp;ixlib=rb-4.1.0&amp;q=80&amp;w=1080" alt="getting comfortable with uncertainty" title="getting comfortable with uncertainty" class="object-cover bg-gray-100 rounded-sm md:rounded-md lg:rounded-lg" style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;" data-corners="default" data-aspect="16:9" data-caption="" data-positionx="undefined" data-positiony="undefined" data-fullwidth="false" data-mce-src="https://images.unsplash.com/photo-1652722466634-3445a90c868b?crop=entropy&amp;cs=tinysrgb&amp;fit=max&amp;fm=jpg&amp;ixid=M3wyNjI5NjF8MHwxfHNlYXJjaHwxNHx8dHJhZmZpYyUyMGxpZ2h0JTIwYW1iZXJ8ZW58MHx8fHwxNzc2NjkyNzYzfDA&amp;ixlib=rb-4.1.0&amp;q=80&amp;w=1080" data-mce-style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;"></figure>The people you’re waiting for are often operating within their own expectations, constraints and fears. Even if they support you, they can’t make your decisions for you.This is where the shift happens.Not when you feel fully confident. Not when you have a perfect plan.But when you recognise that:You’re already allowed to want what you want.&nbsp;Even if it doesn’t make sense to others. Even if it takes longer than you expected. Even if your career path doesn’t look linear.<h2>Closing thought </h2>If you’re feeling stuck in your career, or considering a change, you can keep waiting.Waiting to feel more certain. Waiting for it to make more sense. Waiting for someone to say, yes, that’s the right move.Or you can recognise that the decision is already yours.Not because it’s easy.But because it was always yours to make.If this resonates — if you’re sitting with a decision you’ve already made internally but haven’t quite acted on — it might help to talk it through.I offer a free 30-minute consultation. No pressure to commit. Just a space to think clearly about what you want and what might be getting in the way.Book a time here: https://calendly.com/carmel-drake/discovery-call &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;

Feeling Stuck in Your Career Even Though You Already Know What You Want?

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You’re in a meeting. You have something to say — and then the moment passes.&nbsp;You leave thinking: I should have said that.It’s a familiar experience for many of the professionals I work with — thoughtful, capable people who have a lot to contribute, but don’t always say as much as they’d like to in the moment.And it’s often misunderstood.Because this isn’t just about confidence.<h2>1.⁠ ⁠Why it's hard to speak up in meetings</h2>When people tell me they struggle to speak up in meetings, they often assume it’s a confidence issue.But when we look more closely, there’s almost always something else going on.There’s overthinking. You want to contribute something useful, well-structured, something that adds value. So you edit your point internally before you say it. There can also be a quiet fear: What if this comes out wrong? What if I sound unclear, or even stupid?Then there’s the question of timing.You don’t want to interrupt. And if you’re working across cultures, this can become even more confusing. In Spain, overlap is normal — even expected. In the UK, talking over someone can feel rude. So you hesitate. You wait for a natural pause that never quite comes.And the context matters too.In person, it’s often easier to read the room — body language, eye contact, a slight pause in someone’s sentence. You can see when it’s your moment to come in.Online, those cues are much harder to pick up. There’s often a delay. People talk over each other accidentally. Or no one speaks at all — and the silence stretches.&nbsp;So you hesitate.And more often than not, the moment passes.For many international professionals, there’s also the added layer of working in a second language. You’re processing, translating, choosing your words carefully — all while the conversation moves quickly around you.By the time you’ve found the right phrasing, the conversation has moved on.<figure id="figure-kztqvfhyggmmulk4cm"><img id="kztqvfhyggmmulk4cm" src="https://images.unsplash.com/photo-1588196749597-9ff075ee6b5b?crop=entropy&amp;cs=tinysrgb&amp;fit=max&amp;fm=jpg&amp;ixid=M3wyNjI5NjF8MHwxfHNlYXJjaHw5NXx8YnVzaW5lc3MlMjBtZWV0aW5nfGVufDB8fHx8MTc3Mzc1MTQzMHww&amp;ixlib=rb-4.1.0&amp;q=80&amp;w=1080" alt="macbook pro displaying group of people" title="macbook pro displaying group of people" class="object-cover bg-gray-100 rounded-sm md:rounded-md lg:rounded-lg" style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: undefined undefined;" data-corners="default" data-aspect="16:9" data-caption="" data-positionx="undefined" data-positiony="undefined" data-fullwidth="false" data-mce-src="https://images.unsplash.com/photo-1588196749597-9ff075ee6b5b?crop=entropy&amp;cs=tinysrgb&amp;fit=max&amp;fm=jpg&amp;ixid=M3wyNjI5NjF8MHwxfHNlYXJjaHw5NXx8YnVzaW5lc3MlMjBtZWV0aW5nfGVufDB8fHx8MTc3Mzc1MTQzMHww&amp;ixlib=rb-4.1.0&amp;q=80&amp;w=1080" data-mce-style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: undefined undefined;"></figure><h2>2.⁠ ⁠What most people get wrong</h2>The usual advice is unhelpfully simple:“Just speak up more.” “Be more confident.”But that misses the point.Most of the people I work with are already confident in their thinking. They’re good at their jobs. They’re respected. They’re not lacking ideas.What they’re missing is not confidence — it’s a way into the conversation.Because meetings aren’t structured environments where everyone is neatly invited to speak. They’re dynamic, fast-moving, often messy.If you’re waiting for the perfect moment, you’ll almost always be waiting too long.<h2>3.⁠ ⁠The shift: from waiting to entering</h2>One of the most useful shifts you can make is this:Stop waiting to be invited. Start learning how to enter.That doesn’t mean interrupting aggressively or dominating the conversation.It means recognising that in most professional settings, overlap is normal.&nbsp;In plain English, that means it's ok to come in before everything is perfectly formed.&nbsp;The people who contribute regularly aren’t necessarily the most confident or the most intelligent. They’re simply more comfortable entering the flow of the conversation before their point is fully formed.They don’t wait for perfect.They contribute early, and refine as they go.<figure id="figure-22m8s0dcbnmmumdqv2"><img id="22m8s0dcbnmmumdqv2" src="https://images.unsplash.com/photo-1571624436279-b272aff752b5?crop=entropy&cs=tinysrgb&fit=max&fm=jpg&ixid=M3wyNjI5NjF8MHwxfHNlYXJjaHwxN3x8Ym9hcmQlMjBtZWV0aW5nfGVufDB8fHx8MTc3Mzc1MTAyNnww&ixlib=rb-4.1.0&q=80&w=1080" alt="brown wooden 9-piece office table and chairs" title="brown wooden 9-piece office table and chairs" class="object-cover bg-gray-100 rounded-sm md:rounded-md lg:rounded-lg" style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: undefined undefined;" data-corners="default" data-aspect="16:9" data-caption="" data-positionX="undefined" data-positionY="undefined" data-fullWidth="false"/></figure><h2>4.⁠ ⁠How to speak up without feeling like you’re interrupting</h2>There are small, practical ways to do this that don’t require you to change your personality.For example:<ul><li>“Can I add something to that?”</li><li>"I’d like to build on what you just said…” </li><li>“One thought from me…”</li></ul>Simple phrases like these give you a natural entry point.They also signal clearly that you’d like to contribute, which makes it easier for others to make space.A few other shifts that help:<ul><li>Enter earlier — before your idea is fully polished</li><li>Keep it shorter — you can always add more later</li><li>Accept a bit of overlap — it’s part of how conversations work</li></ul>You’re not interrupting in the sense of being rude.You’re participating.<h2>5.⁠ ⁠Why this matters more than you think</h2> Not speaking up in meetings has a cost — even if your work is strong.Because visibility doesn’t come from what you know. It comes from what others hear.When you contribute, people understand how you think. They see your perspective. They start to associate you with ideas, not just output.Over time, that shapes:<ul><li>how you’re perceived</li><li>the opportunities you’re given</li><li>the conversations you’re included in</li></ul>This is especially true if you’re working in an international environment or in English as a second language, where it’s easy to underestimate how much your voice matters.<h2>6.⁠ ⁠A short reflection</h2>If this resonates, it might be worth asking yourself:<ul><li>When was the last time I had something to say in a meeting and didn’t?</li><li>What stopped me — timing, language, or overthinking?</li><li>What would it look like to contribute a little earlier next time?</li></ul>Not perfectly. Just earlier.<h2>7.⁠ ⁠A gentle invitation</h2>If speaking up in meetings is something you’re working on, you don’t have to figure it out alone.Inside my Speak Up, Stand Out program, we focus on exactly this — helping you find a way of communicating that feels authentic, clear and effective in professional settings.Not by forcing confidence. But by building the habits and structures that make it easier to contribute.If you’re curious to explore it, you can book a free 30-minute call here: 👉 <a href="https://calendly.com/carmel-drake/discovery-call" data-mce-href="https://calendly.com/carmel-drake/discovery-call">https://calendly.com/carmel-drake/discovery-call</a>Because often, it’s not that you don’t have anything to say.It’s that you haven’t found your way into the conversation — yet.

How to Speak Up in Meetings (Without Feeling Like You're Interrupting)

Most of us are very familiar with our inner critic.We know exactly what it sounds like. We know its favourite lines. And we know how quickly it shows up when we try to do something new at work or in life.You’re not ready. You’re going to make a fool of yourself. Who do you think you are?For many professional women, this voice becomes the background noise of everyday life. It shapes decisions, keeps ambitions small and quietly chips away at confidence.&nbsp;But what many people don’t realise is this: the inner critic is rarely alone.There is usually another voice present. Quieter. Less dramatic. Easier to miss.I like to call it the inner champion.<h3>1. Two voices, one decision </h3>I first became aware of my own inner champion during my coach training in 2022.We were doing an exercise about inner voices, and I volunteered to be coached in front of the group. The issue I brought was one that had been circling in my head for months: When will I feel ready to call myself a coach?I was already in the training, already practising, already doing the work. But a part of me kept thinking: Not yet. You need more experience. More qualifications. More PROOF.My tutor asked me to listen for the different voices that appeared when I thought about stepping into that identity.The first one was familiar. A strict, demanding voice that pushed me to do better and never quite let me rest. I recognised her from therapy. She became known as Miss P (Miss Perfect) – my inner critic.But there was another voice too. Softer. Steadier. It said:You can do this, Carmel. You can do anything you put your mind to.When we explored where that voice came from, the answer surprised me.It was my maternal grandmother.&nbsp;She had always believed in me. Quietly, consistently. Her message had never been dramatic. It was simply: Do your best.She died the year before I moved to Madrid, but her voice – and her belief in me – stayed with me.&nbsp;<figure id="figure-y3og6avsdmlp08vmx" class=""><img id="y3og6avsdmlp08vmx" src="https://cdn.durable.co/blocks/5t4dwqyiMnO9z97O06a6LBwh1d238i8Ug8l1338NdhaNmbCdVaspPkGyhg7MIe0e.jpg" alt="" title="" class="object-cover bg-gray-100 rounded-sm md:rounded-md lg:rounded-lg" style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;" data-corners="default" data-aspect="16:9" data-caption="" data-positionx="undefined" data-positiony="undefined" data-fullwidth="false" data-mce-src="https://cdn.durable.co/blocks/5t4dwqyiMnO9z97O06a6LBwh1d238i8Ug8l1338NdhaNmbCdVaspPkGyhg7MIe0e.jpg" data-mce-style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;"></figure>(This is such a random photo but it's the best one I can find of Grandma - this is my first meal at home after 9 months backpacking around the world aged 19. Grandma and I are clearly both very happy to be reunited 💖 My little brother is less convinced &nbsp;🤣).&nbsp;<h3>2. Why the inner critic is louder </h3>If we all have both voices, why does the inner critic usually dominate?Partly, it’s how our brains are wired. We’re built to notice threats more than encouragement. Psychologists call this the negativity bias — the brain’s tendency to focus more on what might go wrong than what is going well.The critic feels useful. Protective. Sensible. Especially for high-achieving professionals who have built their careers on standards, performance and responsibility.The inner champion, by contrast, can sound naïve. Unrealistic. Even embarrassing.And for many women, that voice has been quietly discouraged over the years. We’re taught to be humble, to downplay our achievements, not to appear too full of ourselves. Over time, the critic becomes the default setting. The champion fades into the background.<h3>3. What the inner champion voice actually sounds like </h3>One of the things I love about working on these voices with clients is how different everyone’s champion voice is.It’s rarely a motivational speaker. It’s rarely dramatic. And it’s almost never cheesy.For one client, her champion voice took the form of Elsa from Frozen.Not the dramatic, ice-castle moment. But the quieter message underneath: Let it go. Good enough is good enough.She had spent years in a high-pressure environment where perfection was the baseline. That Elsa voice became a way of reminding herself that she didn’t have to carry everything all the time.For another client, a former Netflix employee, her champion voice was shaped by that company’s co-founder, Reed Hastings. She’d been deeply inspired by his leadership style and belief in people.Her champion voice sounded simple, almost understated:You’re capable. Trust your instincts. If it doesn’t work, you’ll adjust.No drama. No overthinking. Just calm confidence. And that was exactly what she needed to build confidence in her next career move.<h3>4. The difference it makes at work and in life</h3>The inner critic and the inner champion don’t usually disagree about facts.They disagree about interpretation.The critic says: You’ve never done this before. You’ll probably fail.The champion says: You’ve never done this before. You’ll learn as you go.Same situation. Completely different outcome.When the critic is in charge, we stay small. We delay decisions. We wait for the perfect moment that never comes. We stay in jobs we’ve outgrown or hold back from opportunities that could stretch us.When the champion is allowed a seat at the table, things shift. Not overnight. Not dramatically. But enough to create momentum and a different quality of decision-making.&nbsp;<figure id="figure-cymz2amlmnmlp10078"><img id="cymz2amlmnmlp10078" src="https://cdn.durable.co/getty/3fMW3xjoOubhwGJmfA2jER9W7W1WZKibDQHc3cyTaFoj8IhWrDY4wJ2oJM3HP1GE.jpeg" alt="I am a strong woman!" title="I am a strong woman!" class="object-cover bg-gray-100 rounded-sm md:rounded-md lg:rounded-lg" style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;" data-corners="default" data-aspect="16:9" data-caption="" data-positionx="undefined" data-positiony="undefined" data-fullwidth="false" data-mce-src="https://cdn.durable.co/getty/3fMW3xjoOubhwGJmfA2jER9W7W1WZKibDQHc3cyTaFoj8IhWrDY4wJ2oJM3HP1GE.jpeg" data-mce-style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;"></figure><h3>&nbsp;5. How to strengthen your inner champion </h3>Your inner champion isn’t something you invent. It’s something you recognise and strengthen.Just like any voice, it gets louder the more you tune into it.For me, that meant paying attention to the way Grandma used to speak to me. The calm confidence in her tone. The sense that things would work out because I would figure them out.Now, when I’m about to do something that scares me — like stepping into a new professional chapter, or delivering my first ever Facebook Live — I try to dial up the volume of her voice.Not the critic’s.Hers.And this week, I’ll be doing exactly that.On 18 February 2026 at 13:00 (Madrid time), I’ll be hosting my first ever Facebook Live inside the IWBB community. And I can already feel both voices preparing their speeches.The critic is sharpening her lines. But this time, the champion gets the microphone.<h3>6. A practical way to fuel your inner champion </h3>There’s also a very practical side to this work.Our brains have a natural bias towards what went wrong. Psychologists sometimes refer to the reticular activating system — the part of the brain that filters what we notice. If we’re not careful, it becomes very good at spotting mistakes, awkward moments and perceived failures, and very bad at noticing what went right.In other words, the inner critic gets a steady stream of evidence. The inner champion… not so much.That’s why I often suggest clients create what I call a “trumpet folder” — a place where you actively collect small wins, kind words, positive feedback and moments you felt proud of yourself.It doesn’t have to be elaborate. It could be:<ul><li>a folder in your email</li><li>a note on your phone</li><li>a page in a notebook</li><li>an album of screenshot</li><li>or a physical folder on your desk</li></ul><figure id="figure-r8my0fbtujmlp0ydex" class=""><img id="r8my0fbtujmlp0ydex" src="https://cdn.durable.co/blocks/dzv7cMluzdDHtHPiQ2a45owlKAgiCnbrLdtWh7FlheiQzvpg6Zvbi3OKROgTwqvh.jpg" alt="" title="" class="object-cover bg-gray-100 rounded-sm md:rounded-md lg:rounded-lg" style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;" data-corners="default" data-aspect="16:9" data-caption="" data-positionx="undefined" data-positiony="undefined" data-fullwidth="false" data-mce-src="https://cdn.durable.co/blocks/dzv7cMluzdDHtHPiQ2a45owlKAgiCnbrLdtWh7FlheiQzvpg6Zvbi3OKROgTwqvh.jpg" data-mce-style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;"></figure>I even have a weekly reminder in my calendar to do this. And if I’m honest, I still don’t always manage it. What I do have is a simple note on my phone where I jot down small wins — a kind message from a client, a session that felt meaningful, a special parenting moment.Nothing dramatic. Just evidence.Over time, those small pieces of evidence give the inner champion something to work with. Instead of speaking in vague encouragement, it can say:Remember that session that went well? Remember the feedback you got last month? Remember how you handled that situation?The critic collects its own data automatically. The champion usually needs a bit of help.<h3>7. A short reflection </h3>If you pause for a moment, you may be able to hear your own champion voice.It might sound like:<ul><li>a parent or grandparent</li><li>a teacher who believed in you</li><li>a friend who always has your back</li><li>a former boss or mentor</li><li>a younger version of yourself</li><li>or simply a quieter, steadier part of you </li></ul>Ask yourself:<ul><li>When have I felt most encouraged in my life?</li><li>Whose voice gave me confidence?</li><li>What does my inner champion actually say? </li></ul>You don’t have to invent this voice.You just might not be listening yet.<h3>8. A gentle invitation </h3>If your inner critic has been running the show for a while, you’re not alone. Many of the professional women I work with arrive in exactly that place — capable, experienced, but held back by self-doubt or the fear of getting it wrong or upsetting others or the status quo.&nbsp;Coaching isn’t about silencing the critic completely. It’s about strengthening the champion as a natural counterbalance.If you’d like to explore what your own inner champion sounds like — and how to give it more space in your decisions — I’d love to support you.I offer a free 30-minute discovery call where we can work on it together.You can book a time that suits you here: 👉 https://calendly.com/carmel-drake/discovery-callBecause the critic will always have something to say. The question is: which voice do you want running your life?

Pipe down, inner critic. Speak up, inner champion

Rear view of simple workspace with laptop on wooden table at home.

January has a particular energy. The new year, a clean diary, all that talk of fresh starts. And yet for many, the return to work feels exactly the same as it did in November. Same inbox. Same meetings. Same low-level frustration you’ve learnt to live with.You don’t hate your job. You’re good at it. You’re respected. But something has shifted, and you can feel it.<h3>&nbsp; 1. My unexpected return to an old life</h3> My own return to work after Reyes this year was slightly unusual. I was asked to take on a translation project – over 8,000 words. Not small, not huge. Just enough to properly step back into a world I lived in for 13 years.For the first ten years, I genuinely loved it. It played to my analytical brain. I enjoyed the problem-solving, finding the right word in the right tone for the right context. I still do. There’s comfort in it.You know how long it will take. You can plan your time, measure your output and see progress clearly. There's a real sense of satisfaction in sending the finished document back to the client. And when I started the job last week, I felt myself relax. It felt safe. Familiar. A part of me thought, Here we go. I know how to do this.<figure id="figure-shkh46pautmkl1i0ei"><img id="shkh46pautmkl1i0ei" src="https://cdn.durable.co/getty/39bC4rSYF7XvvbLuNC8xiwTf7VkhUuJzp8XtqCH0lPb4qFtlY9i9q6u14uy7WOGA.jpeg" alt="Cropped image of business woman hand working laptop computer in home office" title="Cropped image of business woman hand working laptop computer in home office" class="object-cover bg-gray-100 rounded-sm md:rounded-md lg:rounded-lg" style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;" data-corners="default" data-aspect="16:9" data-caption="" data-positionx="undefined" data-positiony="undefined" data-fullwidth="false" data-mce-src="https://cdn.durable.co/getty/39bC4rSYF7XvvbLuNC8xiwTf7VkhUuJzp8XtqCH0lPb4qFtlY9i9q6u14uy7WOGA.jpeg" data-mce-style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;"></figure><h3>2. The knowing that never quite goes away </h3>But here’s the truth I’ve always known: translation was never my forever job.Even when I enjoyed it. Even when I was good at it. Even when it paid well. I knew.And you probably do too. That quiet voice that says, I want to do something different. You might ignore it, rationalise it, tell yourself to be grateful – but it doesn’t go away.For years, I told myself I’d make a change “one day”. After the next job. After the summer. Once things were calmer. When I'd chosen a coach training provider.Then my second daughter was born and something clicked. I realised I was already halfway through my working life. All those “one days” might never come. If I didn’t act now, I probably never would.What's more, with two children in tow, my priorities were very different. Working nights, weekends, “from anywhere in the world” – suddenly didn’t fit.So I did something that had been sitting in my body for years. I retrained. At the age of 42 and a half. Not to do something sensible or predictable, but as a coach – a role that certainly plays to my real strengths: listening, empathy, critical thinking, challenge, working with people. It’s been a much bumpier, less predictable ride than I ever had as a translator – and honestly, there are days I miss the certainty. But despite that, I now know I’m on the right path.&nbsp;<h3>&nbsp; 3. The moment it became clear </h3>As the translation days went by, something shifted. Quietly. I realised how much I missed people. The conversations, the energy, the depth, the “aha” moments.Coaching isn’t tidy. You can’t measure progress in word count. There’s no formula, no hourly output. And yet, when I look at my values – connection, courage, making a difference and nature – coaching fulfils three of them, and sometimes all four when I run walking sessions in Retiro. Translation, for me, fulfils none.That doesn’t make it a bad job. It just means it stopped being my job. And that’s the distinction many struggle to make.<h3>4.&nbsp;What it looks like when you do listen </h3>I see this with clients all the time.One woman came to me as an architect. Highly skilled, super successful – but bursting with a creative energy that had nowhere to go. Through our work together, she slowly gave herself permission to explore that side of her. She’s now illustrating children’s books one day a week. It didn’t replace her career overnight, but it reconnected her with a part of herself she’d quietly parked for years.Another client was a senior finance executive with two decades of experience behind her. She didn’t want to throw that away – but she no longer felt aligned with the sector she was in. She ended up moving to work for a Fundación (a philanthropic organisation in Spain), channelling everything she knew about finance into something she actually cared about. Same skills. Completely different meaning.Neither of these women “blew up” their lives.They listened. They explored. They made considered shifts. Small at first. Then braver. That’s what growth actually looks like.<figure id="figure-1l84yrm1gmkl1m73z"><img id="1l84yrm1gmkl1m73z" src="https://cdn.durable.co/getty/2bKUaCzZ2U6byVn86A6LEV746yzIvdjYSwhyNALOTMW2iWkgeZMaHWGey0hQhQ0q.jpeg" alt="Skillful young woman in apron painting pottery at workshop" title="Skillful young woman in apron painting pottery at workshop" class="object-cover bg-gray-100 rounded-sm md:rounded-md lg:rounded-lg" style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;" data-corners="default" data-aspect="16:9" data-caption="" data-positionx="undefined" data-positiony="undefined" data-fullwidth="false" data-mce-src="https://cdn.durable.co/getty/2bKUaCzZ2U6byVn86A6LEV746yzIvdjYSwhyNALOTMW2iWkgeZMaHWGey0hQhQ0q.jpeg" data-mce-style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;"></figure><h3>5. Why you stay (even when you know)</h3>If you’re honest, you probably know you’ve outgrown your role. But knowing doesn’t automatically lead to change.Because you’re comfortable. Competent. Paid well. People respect you. Change feels irresponsible. You’ve invested years here. You don’t know what you’d do instead.So you stay. And you tell yourself it’s fine. It’s not that bad. Plenty of people have it worse. All true – and also irrelevant.Because the real question isn’t, Is it terrible? It’s, Is it still right for me?<h3>&nbsp; 6. The danger of doing nothing </h3>January is when this thought creeps in: If I make no changes, then this year will be: Same work. Same frustrations. Same compromises. Not forever. Just… again.And that’s where the quiet panic lives. Not in dramatic career moves, but in the slow realisation that time is passing and you’re not using it how you want to.<h3>&nbsp; 7. I’m not telling you to quit </h3>Let me be clear. I am not suggesting you quit your job, retrain as a yoga teacher or book a one-way flight in the January sales. This isn’t about impulsive change.It’s about stopping the shutdown. That moment when the knowing voice appears and you silence it. Again.What if, instead, you listened? Just a little. What if you explored what feels heavy, what drains you, what lights you up, what you secretly envy in others, what you’d do if fear wasn’t running the show?With me. Or on your own. Curiosity, not action, is the first step.<figure id="figure-mt5smrnevmkl1p64f"><img id="mt5smrnevmkl1p64f" src="https://cdn.durable.co/getty/3avDaAdj0OqnfSEcty9ptyamOmKD4u8udsJGbQZzdwTe2FMIoaYV6PeKtyIkrpUt.jpeg" alt="Focusing on a forest" title="Focusing on a forest" class="object-cover bg-gray-100 rounded-sm md:rounded-md lg:rounded-lg" style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;" data-corners="default" data-aspect="16:9" data-caption="" data-positionx="undefined" data-positiony="undefined" data-fullwidth="false" data-mce-src="https://cdn.durable.co/getty/3avDaAdj0OqnfSEcty9ptyamOmKD4u8udsJGbQZzdwTe2FMIoaYV6PeKtyIkrpUt.jpeg" data-mce-style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;"></figure><h3>8. A question for January </h3>As you settle back into work, ask yourself: if I change nothing, how do I feel about that? And if I made one small change? Or two?Not a life overhaul. Just movement. That’s often where clarity begins.<h3>9. A gentle invitation </h3>If you’re in that in-between space – not desperate, not fulfilled, just quietly restless – you’re exactly the kind of person I work with.I offer a free 30-minute discovery call where we can explore what’s really going on for you and what you might want from the next chapter. No pressure. No selling. Just clear thinking.Book here if it feels right: 👉<a data-mce-href="https://calendly.com/carmel-drake/discovery-call" href="https://calendly.com/carmel-drake/discovery-call"> https://calendly.com/carmel-drake/discovery-call</a>Because you don’t have to hate your job to outgrow it. And you don’t have to leap to start moving.

When You’ve Outgrown Your Job — But You’re Not Ready to Admit It

Earlier this month, I led a workshop for <a data-mce-href="https://www.linkedin.com/in/aidaramosmartinez/" href="https://www.linkedin.com/in/aidaramosmartinez/">Aída Ramos's</a> "New(ish) in Madrid" community on identity - and the conversation highlighted just how complex it becomes when you move abroad.A room full of women from different countries, careers and cultures sat together.&nbsp; Our stories were different, but the same themes kept surfacing.You build a life - a career you’re proud of, friendships that sustain you, roles that make sense… and then you move abroad and everything changes. All at once. Your routines, your networks, your status, even the way you introduce yourself.You arrive in a new city and suddenly you’re not sure who you are anymore.That’s the quiet cost of international moves that often gets overlooked.<h3>1. The identity gap no one talks about </h3>What came up again and again was this: so much of our identity is tied to what we do for a living.<figure id="figure-wczsiagm9vemi7lsawz" class=""><img id="wczsiagm9vemi7lsawz" src="https://cdn.durable.co/getty/1CcxIuJXUDLnzSFfTMGEgD5TrPAOGtxJKTSCt69j9ath6o6frNIcsCGtkKDPBtcJ.jpeg" alt="Indian entrepreneur manager businesswoman using pc for communication, learning at workplace. Focused latin hispanic young business woman working on laptop computer sitting at office workplace desk" title="Indian entrepreneur manager businesswoman using pc for communication, learning at workplace. Focused latin hispanic young business woman working on laptop computer sitting at office workplace desk" class="object-cover bg-gray-100 rounded-sm md:rounded-md lg:rounded-lg" style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;" data-corners="default" data-aspect="16:9" data-caption="" data-positionx="undefined" data-positiony="undefined" data-fullwidth="false" data-mce-src="https://cdn.durable.co/getty/1CcxIuJXUDLnzSFfTMGEgD5TrPAOGtxJKTSCt69j9ath6o6frNIcsCGtkKDPBtcJ.jpeg" data-mce-style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;"></figure>Back home, your work gave you rhythm and purpose. It told you where to be, what you were good at and how you contributed. It shaped how you saw yourself - and how others saw you.When you relocate, especially as an accompanying partner, that part can disappear overnight.You move for your partner’s role. And whilst everyone, yourself included, assumes the time off will feel like a gift, it rarely does. Your visa doesn’t allow you to work locally. And even if you can work remotely, that sense of being cut off from the team - from your in-person professional identity - hits harder than expected.A client said to me recently: “I know I should feel lucky - I don’t have to work here, and part of me enjoys the break. But without my job, I don’t recognise myself.”&nbsp; She’s not alone. Many of the women I coach carry a quiet guilt: “I should be grateful… so why do I feel unanchored?”Because work isn’t just work. It's identity.<h3>2. What identity is really made of</h3>Identity isn’t one thing — it has four parts:<ul><li>What we do -&nbsp;the routines, responsibilities and work that structure our days (e.g. your job, daily rhythm).</li><li>What we value - the principles that guide us (e.g. independence, contribution, creativity, stability etc.).</li><li>Who we are in relation to others - the roles we play (e.g. partner, parent, friend, colleague).</li><li>What we’re good (or not so good) at - the strengths and skills that shape our confidence (e.g. communicating well, organising life, making friends easily — or struggling with admin, uncertainty, or social situations in a new language).</li></ul>When you move abroad, all four can shift at the same time.<figure id="figure-bpfs83q67smiczzd4j"><img id="bpfs83q67smiczzd4j" src="https://cdn.durable.co/getty/1fnx4JtstE7zBH1hieY8mMQt4sRU1f7Uko4CSMnVXqYqA4rGq3pXU6QqESa2jOGm.jpeg" alt="Four puzzle pieces standing 3D" title="Four puzzle pieces standing 3D" class="object-cover bg-gray-100 rounded-sm md:rounded-md lg:rounded-lg" style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: undefined undefined;" data-corners="default" data-aspect="16:9" data-caption="" data-positionx="undefined" data-positiony="undefined" data-fullwidth="false" data-mce-src="https://cdn.durable.co/getty/1fnx4JtstE7zBH1hieY8mMQt4sRU1f7Uko4CSMnVXqYqA4rGq3pXU6QqESa2jOGm.jpeg" data-mce-style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: undefined undefined;"></figure>A change in one area is manageable; a change in all four can feel like the ground has quietly moved beneath you.This is why the feeling of “I don’t recognise myself anymore” is so common — and so unsettling.<h3>3. Even when life looks better, identity can still wobble</h3>There’s also the cohort of women and families who move to Madrid on digital nomad visas - many from the US. On paper, the move brings clear benefits:<ul><li>lower cost of living</li><li>safer neighbourhoods</li><li>brilliant food</li><li>gorgeous weather</li><li>public transport that actually works</li></ul><figure id="figure-f59u9ncormiczqzs3" class=""><img id="f59u9ncormiczqzs3" src="https://cdn.durable.co/getty/11prLzBlGF2wlsY0Nh3DKvXdy5kVqjPKxfdIygdjX3EiGu990HMq5Ax2KMiRRwtJ.jpeg" alt="Woman in El Retiro Park in Madrid" title="Woman in El Retiro Park in Madrid" class="object-cover bg-gray-100 rounded-sm md:rounded-md lg:rounded-lg" style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: 50% 30%;" data-corners="default" data-aspect="16:9" data-caption="" data-positionx="50%" data-positiony="30%" data-fullwidth="false" data-mce-src="https://cdn.durable.co/getty/11prLzBlGF2wlsY0Nh3DKvXdy5kVqjPKxfdIygdjX3EiGu990HMq5Ax2KMiRRwtJ.jpeg" data-mce-style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: 50% 30%;"></figure>And yet, the identity challenges remain. The overwhelm of building a new community. The lack of family support. The cultural surprises that catch you off guard.Like discovering there’s no nursery provision in August, or the shift from car-based life to buses and metros, or realising your neighbours operate on an entirely different timetable.These things aren’t problems - they’re just different. But difference shapes identity.<h3>4. Why roles alone aren’t enough</h3>Another theme from the workshop was the recognition that roles like wife and mother may be deeply meaningful — but they aren’t enough on their own.Most women need something that’s theirs. Something that gives a sense of agency, curiosity or competence.&nbsp;And it doesn’t have to be a job. It can be:<ul><li>a running club</li><li>a yoga class</li><li>a language course</li><li>a volunteering role</li><li>the New(ish) monthly meet-ups</li><li>a creative project</li><li>a community you see regularly </li></ul>Something consistent. Something that reminds you who you are outside your relationships. Something that gives you your own space - even for an hour a week.The relief in the room was noticeable when women said this out loud. The recognition was immediate: Wanting something for yourself isn’t selfish. It’s healthy. It’s human.Identity isn’t fixed. It’s shaped. And reshapable.<h3>5. A new chapter - yours to write </h3>I ended the workshop with a quote from Michelle Obama:“If you don’t get out there and define yourself, you’ll be quickly and inaccurately defined by others.”Moving abroad gives you a blank page - whether you asked for one or not. But a blank page isn’t a demand to reinvent yourself. It’s an invitation to pause, reassess and redefine what matters within the reality of your situation: your visa, your childcare responsibilities, your partner’s schedule, your energy.These constraints are real. And yet, within them, identity can evolve.It’s still your chapter to write.<h3>6. Reflection </h3>A few questions to ask yourself this month:<ul><li>Which parts of my identity have felt “on pause” since moving abroad?</li><li>What do I miss most about the person I was before the move?</li><li>Which routines or communities here could support the identity I want to grow into?</li><li>What’s one small thing I could do weekly — just for me?</li></ul>Small questions. Big clarity.&nbsp;<h3>7. A gentle invitation </h3>If reading this brings up something for you - if you’re feeling unanchored or unsure who you are without your old career or community - you don’t have to figure it out alone.I offer a free 30-minute discovery call where we can explore what’s feeling off, what you’d love to rebuild and how to start shaping a life here that feels like it belongs to you again.Book a time that suits you: <a data-mce-href="https://calendly.com/carmel-drake/discovery-call" href="https://calendly.com/carmel-drake/discovery-call">https://calendly.com/carmel-drake/discovery-call</a>Identity isn’t something that just happens. It’s something we shape - through reflection, intention and small, steady steps.

The Woman Behind the Move: Redefining Yourself After an International Relocation

Alone we’re weak,together we’re strong

During my first few years in Madrid, I worked in an office. Every morning around 11, we’d head down to a local bar for breakfast — colleagues chatting over coffee and pinchos of tortilla. I’d nod along to conversations I half-understood, playing what I can only describe as conversation tennis: turning my head from one speaker to the other, desperate to follow every word (without success) and rarely joining in. Everyone was warm and welcoming, yet I felt like I was watching my own life from the outside. I laughed in the right places and yet I still had that deep sense of being unseen — like a friendly hanger-on rather than a real participant.That’s the paradox of living abroad. You can be included, yet feel invisible.I recently listened to an episode of The Imperfects — a podcast hosted by three Australian blokes who have honest, often funny conversations about the struggles and imperfections of life. The August episode, “<a data-mce-href="https://podcasts.apple.com/es/podcast/dr-emily-were-longing-for-belonging/id1476501557?i=1000720507091" href="https://podcasts.apple.com/es/podcast/dr-emily-were-longing-for-belonging/id1476501557?i=1000720507091">We’re Longing for Belonging</a>” explores our fundamental human need to feel part of something. In it, Dr Emily Musgrove, the show’s resident psychologist, explains that belonging isn’t just a pleasant emotion; it’s essential. As Maslow’s hierarchy of needs reminds us, once our basic physical and safety needs are met, belonging sits at the very core of what it means to be human. It shapes our sense of identity, self-worth and wellbeing. Listening to Dr Emily, I realised how easy it is — especially for those of us living abroad — to mistake fitting in for truly belonging.<figure id="figure-obbgwfhr5mh0bc1rk"><img id="obbgwfhr5mh0bc1rk" src="https://cdn.durable.co/blocks/3b5JJ1ZWt54IrbdVe36g8GbpyjdgYuYpFEUxK9mLr6Z8xz4zx132CBvlsL3DBaCU.png" alt="Maslows hierarchy of needs, 3d rendering" title="Maslows hierarchy of needs, 3d rendering" class="object-cover bg-gray-100 rounded-sm md:rounded-md lg:rounded-lg" style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: 50% 50%;" data-corners="default" data-aspect="16:9" data-caption="" data-positionx="50%" data-positiony="50%" data-fullwidth="false" data-mce-src="https://cdn.durable.co/blocks/3b5JJ1ZWt54IrbdVe36g8GbpyjdgYuYpFEUxK9mLr6Z8xz4zx132CBvlsL3DBaCU.png" data-mce-style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: 50% 50%;"></figure>For many women who’ve relocated to Madrid for their partner’s job, that distinction is painfully real. You’ve given up your career, your social circle, perhaps even your sense of purpose — and now you find yourself in a life that looks lovely on paper, yet feels slightly hollow. It’s a kind of quiet loneliness that doesn’t come from being alone, but from not feeling like you belong.<h3>1. Belonging vs Fitting In</h3>The Imperfects episode captured this difference perfectly. Fitting in is about adapting — changing yourself to be accepted. Belonging is about being accepted as you are. When we chase fitting in, we risk abandoning parts of ourselves in the process. True belonging requires vulnerability — letting people see us, even when we’re unsure if we’ll be accepted.For anyone who’s moved abroad, this lands hard. When your surroundings, language and daily rhythm all shift, it’s easy to lose sight of who you are and what anchors you. That identity loss after moving can leave you searching for belonging in places that never quite feel secure.<h3>2. Belonging and Connection: Similar but Not the Same</h3>Listening to the podcast also made me reflect on the difference between connection and belonging. Connection is about relationship — the conversations, shared laughs and fleeting moments of understanding that remind us we’re not alone. Belonging runs deeper. It’s the quiet certainty that we’re accepted as we are, that we’ve found a place where we truly fit.You can have plenty of connection without ever feeling belonging — but you can’t have belonging without connection. When I first moved abroad, I built plenty of connections: dinners out, weekends away, hikes in the sierra (it helped that I was in my late 20s). But real belonging took longer. It required time, vulnerability and mutual acceptance.<h3>3. The In-Between World</h3>Once you’ve lived abroad, belonging becomes more complex. You start to straddle two worlds. When you visit your country of origin, you realise you’ve changed — you see things differently, you don’t quite fit the old mould. But in your adopted country, you’re still marked as different.It’s a strange kind of limbo — rooted in two places, but never fully at home in either. At first, I found this unsettling. Now, I genuinely see it as richness. Living between cultures gives you perspective, empathy and adaptability. It’s taught me that belonging abroad isn’t about geography. It’s about authenticity — being grounded in who you are, wherever you are.&nbsp; <figure id="figure-3kf7se6tjqmh0bl1nt"><img id="3kf7se6tjqmh0bl1nt" src="https://cdn.durable.co/getty/1816HqpXnUoUnfwwAUe0aI4pWFI6Bxd0H6Iq3wJgqLOHUVvlWhn7ROT9VCG8cUXY.jpeg" alt="Feet straddling the Prime Meridian at Greenwich, London." title="Feet straddling the Prime Meridian at Greenwich, London." class="object-cover bg-gray-100 rounded-sm md:rounded-md lg:rounded-lg" style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;" data-corners="default" data-aspect="16:9" data-caption="" data-positionx="undefined" data-positiony="undefined" data-fullwidth="false" data-mce-src="https://cdn.durable.co/getty/1816HqpXnUoUnfwwAUe0aI4pWFI6Bxd0H6Iq3wJgqLOHUVvlWhn7ROT9VCG8cUXY.jpeg" data-mce-style="aspect-ratio: 16/9; object-position: center center;"></figure><h3>4. How to Rebuild Belonging Abroad</h3>If you’re feeling on the sidelines of your own life right now, these ideas might help:<ul><li>Start small. Look for micro-moments of connection: a familiar face at the café, a short chat at school pick-up.</li><li>Lean into your difference. Your accent, background and story make you interesting. Belonging doesn’t require sameness.</li><li>Challenge your narrative. If your inner voice says “I don’t belong here”, notice it — and ask whether it’s really true.</li><li>Create belonging for others. When you make others feel seen, you build genuine community.</li><li>Stay patient. True belonging takes time. It grows through consistency, not intensity.</li></ul>These small steps may not change everything overnight, but they lay the groundwork for how to feel at home abroad in a way that’s authentic and sustainable.<h3>5. Reflection</h3>I’d love to invite you to pause and reflect for a moment. Next time you're out for a walk or in the shower, have a think about:<ul><li>What does belonging mean to you?</li><li>When have you felt most at home in yourself or your surroundings?</li><li>What helps you feel part of something bigger?</li><li>How has living abroad shaped your understanding of belonging?</li><li>And what might “home” mean to you now?</li></ul>These aren’t quick questions. But reflecting on them is often the first step towards rebuilding a stronger sense of belonging — both to place and to self.<h3>6. A Gentle Invitation</h3>If you’d like support to reconnect with yourself and shape what this next chapter looks like for you, my Belonging Abroad coaching program might be a good place to start.It’s a 4-session one-to-one program designed to help you rebuild confidence, find clarity and start creating a life here that feels genuinely yours. The programme is currently available for €299.If you’re curious, the best next step is to book a free 30-minute discovery call - a chance to talk about where you are now, what you’d like to change and how coaching could help.<a data-mce-href="https://calendly.com/carmel-drake/discovery-call" href="https://calendly.com/carmel-drake/discovery-call">Click here</a> to book a time that suits you.&nbsp;Because belonging isn’t something that just happens. It’s something we build — through connection, authenticity and small, intentional steps 💪🏼✨

Belonging Abroad: Why Life Can Feel Lonely — and What You Can Do About It

Carmel Drake

coaching. i offer 4 session packages for 3 distinct groups of professionals with 15 years or more experience: 1) to help them grow in confidence and visibility at work (speak up stand out), 2) to improve their english presentation and interview skills for non-native english speakers and 3) to help them figure out their purpose when moving abroad for their partner's job

Carmel Drake | Executive & Expat Coach in Madrid

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