It finally happened. Someone asked me the question I'd been dreading.
"What do you do for work?"
We were chatting at a preschool moms' night out when it came up. It was harmless, just small talk. I've asked it plenty of times myself to get to know someone, to understand how they spend their days.
I opened my mouth and paused. My default answer, "Director of Product at a major tech company," wasn't true anymore.
"I'm on a sabbatical," I replied, smiling politely.
It was technically true. But it felt vague and privileged, and somehow not enough. It didn't explain the shift I was still trying to name. Saying I was on sabbatical didn't capture the discomfort, the uncertainty, or the slow disorientation that came with stepping away from my job.
For more than a decade, work was the simplest way to explain who I was. I could point to my title, my team, the brand-name company. I had the track record: promotions, strong reviews, steady raises.
I didn't realize how much I'd relied on that rhythm, that cycle of external validation, until it stopped.
I grew up with a deeply ingrained blueprint: work hard, achieve, earn.
As the child of Ukrainian immigrants, that message wasn't subtle. It was our family's survival strategy. After the collapse of the Soviet Union, we left everything and moved to the U.S. for stability and opportunity. I watched my parents rebuild from nothing. They gave up everything so I could have a future they never got to imagine for themselves.
So I became someone who achieved. I got good grades, went to a top college, landed a job on Wall Street after the financial crisis. Then came Harvard Business School and the dream tech job. For the past ten years, I climbed the ladder at Pinterest.
I got comfortable in high-pressure environments. I equated my value with output. The "what's next" mindset came naturally. Finish the project, get the promotion, aim higher. Rinse and repeat.
Even motherhood didn't derail that drive. If anything, it sharpened it.
I came back from my first maternity leave determined to prove I hadn't lost a step. I got promoted twice and felt proud to defy the motherhood penalty so many women face. The two identities, mother and product leader, coexisted. Not always gracefully, but I made it work.
Until this year, when something shifted.
After my second daughter was born, I found myself questioning my path. I no longer craved the next promotion. Yet I wasn't looking to lean further into family life either. I felt called to something different, something I couldn't yet name.
And that's how I found myself in the neutral zone.
I've been reading Transitions by William Bridges, who describes the neutral zone as the murky middle between an ending and a beginning. It's a liminal space where the old identity no longer fits, but the new one hasn't arrived.
It's disorienting. There's no title, no plan, no clear sense of what comes next. Just space and the emotions that come with it. Curiosity. Doubt. Some judgment, mostly from myself.
That's where I am.
As someone who thrives on structure, it's deeply uncomfortable to sit in this place of not-knowing.
I've kept this season open on purpose. No meetings, no big goals, nowhere to be. I've been journaling, going to yoga, napping. Just being.
It feels indulgent. But after years of optimizing every minute, and four intense years of pregnancy, postpartum, and working full-time, it also feels necessary.
Right after I stepped away, the markets crashed and I panicked. Had I made a huge mistake?
But with time, I've found a quiet clarity that stepping away was the right move.
I know I want to build something, a company to support new moms. I've lived the problem and care deeply about the solution. But I don't have a business model yet. No name, no website. And in this in-between, I feel unsteady.
I miss the validation that used to arrive on schedule, every two weeks, in the form of a paycheck to prove my worth. I miss saying, "This is what I do," and watching people nod with recognition.
With my ten-year Harvard Business School reunion approaching next year, I wonder what I'll say when I'm back in that room. The school's mission is "to educate leaders who make a difference in the world." I feel the pressure to live up to that, to prove I earned my place, especially as a woman, especially now when DEI initiatives face scrutiny.
I catch myself quickly clarifying that I'm not a stay-at-home mom. That this is a brief break before the next big thing, not a ‘power pause’. That I haven't walked away from ambition. That I haven't wasted the sacrifices my parents made.
Some days, I seriously consider answering the recruiter emails. I imagine what a safer, more familiar path might look like, one that's measurable and easily understood.
But other days, something else stirs. A voice that's softer, quieter, more curious. A part of me that's less concerned with how things look and more interested in how they feel.
It's hard. But it feels closer to who I want to be.
We're not taught how to exist in the neutral zone. Especially not ambitious women like me, women raised to produce, achieve, and push forward.
We don't know how to sit still, to listen to that inner voice. But the more I tune into it, the louder it grows.
Instead of asking, "What's next?", I've started asking, "What if?"
What if I don't rush into the next thing?
What if I build something that's sustainable and meaningful?
What if this quiet season isn't a gap, but a foundation?
I gave up an identity I spent years building, and I haven't replaced it yet. I'm not a Director of Product anymore, but I'm not quite an entrepreneur either.
So next time someone asks me, "What do you do?" I still might hesitate.
But maybe I'll say:
Right now, I'm in the neutral zone. And I'm learning to be okay with that.
Namaste,
Tamara
Learning to define yourself outside of your work achievements can take time, but you are still the same person, those achievements are still yours. I reckon not many people have the confidence to be so self aware and make the decision to take a Sabbatical.
Also, and this is how I interpreted your writing, you place a lot of your identity on your ambition. Navigating the neutral zone, being a stay at home mom, not being tied to a highly visible role with high output, doesn’t mean you aren’t ambitious. But it sounds as though these roles don’t quite fit your definition of ambition, or just don’t sound impressive. So I get why you struggled with the response, but don’t shortchange yourself either. What you are doing-or not doing currently- really has little bearing on who you are or what you will achieve.
Came here from LinkedIn, where your post literally stopped me in my tracks. It's exactly what I'm grappling with at the moment—and you put words to that uncertain "neutral zone" feeling so perfectly. Thank you for continuing to share your insights with us!