Losing My Identity

For more than 25 years, I owned and helped run a decent-sized business in my hometown of Denver, Colorado. I was the CEO, a title that never sat quite right on me, due to a combination of imposter syndrome and the understanding that I owed my position to my parents’ history and legacy in our industry. It was thanks to them that I was able to start a company at the age of 23 and see immediate growth, success, and staying power, for many years to come.

But in truth, I wanted to be a CEO from the time I can remember. I’m sure my parents’ stature as entrepreneurs and business owners must have inspired this dream, at least in part; but the appeal went far beyond my family experience. At a young age, my favorite movie was Working Girl, and I loved to imagine myself wearing a blazer and commanding a boardroom full of businessmen. I liked perusing the Fortune 500 and found the concept of business thrilling. In high school, I joined the Future Business Leaders of America—somewhat ironically, since I did find it to be an extremely nerdy club—and was a state finalist for Miss FBLA. For college, I applied early to one school: the University of Pennsylvania, where I could be an undergrad student in the Wharton School of Business. I was accepted, and on my way to living my dream.

Partly because I had a boyfriend back in Colorado, and partly because living in a big city on the East Coast made me long for mountains and nature and sunshine, I learned at Wharton that my future was not on the typical business acceleration track via Goldman Sachs or McKinsey. After college, I moved back to Denver and took a position at a mezzanine fund, working for a brilliant gentleman whom my dad knew, since the fund seemed to fit well with the Wharton finance vibe that all the business aspirants there were seeking out. But somewhere within, I knew I was not cut out to analyze spreadsheets and work in a fairly isolated, analytical role. It was the people aspect of business that appealed to me: leadership and communication and collaboration. My identity was foundering, and I needed a change.

Lucky for me, a big opportunity presented itself just as I was looking for next steps. I was given a chance to start a company and potentially hire a number of people who had worked for my parents when they owned their company, prior to selling it in 1996. I needed to make a fast decision: do I start this company and take a top leadership role at a very young age, and hope I can live up to it?

I did start the company, with a great deal of assistance from my parents and others, and I did strive to live up to my role as owner and CEO. I spent 25 years helping steer the company through countless changes and upheavals, from the internet bubble to the 2008 downturn to COVID-19, remote work, and Amazon’s dominance of the retail world. It was an incredible career that I was blessed to have, and it was extremely challenging in many different ways. In 2026, for a variety of reasons, I decided to make a change, sell my ownership, and transition out of my CEO role.

The Shift

My decision to make this very big change was not one I undertook lightly, and I was prepared to feel a massive shift beneath my feet, the tectonic plates of my life in veritable earthquake mode. It was terrifying, but also exciting; I’ve always loved change. Spending 25 years in a career, in hindsight, was quite a challenge in its own right, given my penchant for switching things up.

The thing I was not prepared for with this change was an utter shattering of identity. The person I once was seemed to be gone, in an instant. All that was left was a shadow, a shell—or so it felt to me. Without my role, without my company, without my CEO title, who was I?

I suppose we all undergo identity shifts throughout our lives. One day we’re a kid; the next day we’re an adult. One moment we’re a student, the next we become a professional. Maybe we’re an artist, or an athlete; maybe an adventurer, a reader, a writer. Maybe we are single, then we become a wife. Becoming a mother was the biggest shift I undertook prior to my career change; but it was the gaining of an identity that shook me at that time.

Losing an identity is difficult to anticipate, because often we don’t recognize that our identity is wrapped in something temporal and artificial. "We know what we are, but know not what we may be," said Ophelia in Hamlet.

For 25 years, my identity was wrapped up in the guise of a business leader, poised and dignified, capable and sure of her place. Then, after a simple transaction and agreement, I became someone else. It happened so lightning-fast that I’m still searching and struggling to understand who that person is.

The Question

If identity is such a fragile thing, it begs to me the question: who are we, really? Should we define ourselves by a career, or by a sport, or by a familial role? Should we be chameleons, assuming the exterior identity proper to our circumstances? Or should we strive to identify with our changeless nature, the soul within, untouched by title or race or situation?

For me, the answer is most certainly the latter; but I have much work to do before I arrive at such a changeless place.

Have you shed an identity? Do you aspire to shed one? I’d love to hear your thoughts—please share them in the comments!