Wired for survival
Human beings are equipped with a neurobiological safety mechanism whose sole job is to keep us alive by relentlessly scanning for danger, predicting what might go wrong, and ringing alarm bells. This system has a strong bias toward the negative, because in survival terms, missing a threat was far more costly than missing an opportunity.
Today, this system hasn’t evolved to distinguish between being chased by a predator and losing status or identity. To the brain, uncertainty itself is a threat. Which is why, for leaders in transition, this safety mechanism goes into overdrive. It thinks it’s helping by tightening control, increasing vigilance, pushing you toward caution in unfamiliar territory.
That’s when the saboteurs show up.
Each saboteur is rooted in a real strength, such as discipline, drive, empathy, foresight, or responsibility. But in transition, those strengths get hijacked by fear and the desperate need for certainty. Excellence becomes perfectionism, strategy becomes control, awareness becomes awfulizing.
Despite their good intentions, the saboteurs actually increase tension and anxiety, keeping you in a state of heightened stress instead of the composure and clarity needed to navigate this moment in time.
Who’s running the show?
The work is then to recognize when the saboteurs take over, override their safety mechanisms and consciously get back in the driver’s seat.
What follows are the seven most common saboteurs that might show up for you as you build your next chapter, and how to deal with them.
The 7 saboteurs of your transition
My LinkedIn profile isn’t polished enough yet. My résumé needs one more edit. I can’t reach out until everything is flawless.
You don’t feel ready. Maybe you’re not clear about where you want to go next. You’re concerned about putting out there a half-baked version of yourself and burning bridges in the process. So you stay stuck in preparation mode. Weeks pass while you refine.
Done beats perfect. Your next role won’t come from a flawless résumé, it’ll come from real conversations. Test your story in the real world. Experiment! Talk to people. Put all the perfect imperfect versions of yourself out there and see what resonates. Clarity comes from action, not the other way around.
Let’s get started ASAP. I need to find a great resume writer. And a list of recruiters to connect with. I must send at least 30 applications per day. I must attend every networking event I can. If I put in the work, something will break through.
Being in action keeps you engaged: you maintain the same rhythm as when you were employed, you define performance and set KPIs. You feel like you still “belong.” You show yourself and the world that you’ve got this, you’re not defeated. Interestingly, you feel as exhausted as when you had a full-time job.
This transition is yours to manage, and busyness will deplete you faster than it lands you a job. Slow down. A transition is a product launch. You’re the CEO of this transition. Your two key focuses: (1) The product. YOU. Who are you and what problems do you solve? (2) Your time and energy are yours to manage. Don’t go back into the very same mode that slowly killed you in your previous job. Because when you’re depleted, you can’t show up as the leader you actually are.
I find the formula to hack AI and ATS’s. I tailor my resume for every job description. I need to prepare for every possible question and rehearse every scenario.
With the amount of preparation you do, you feel in control of every interaction. Your resume is optimized for every job you apply to. You adjust your story, your positioning, your entire presence based on what you think people want to hear.
Yes, prepare your script. Then let go of it. Lead with who you actually are: your resume reflects you and what you want from your next chapter, your key messages for this next conversation are clear and ready to be woven into the dialogue. Engage in a human-to-human, genuine exchange where you connect, listen, and co-create. Trust the leader you’ve been for the last 20 years. They know what to do.
Did that conversation go well? Why did they pull up that face? Why did they say this about my experience? Why haven’t they responded? Maybe I said the wrong thing. Should I follow up again?
You’re out of the feedback loop and peer support that your previous job provided. Your capabilities and value are no longer assessed and validated by familiar models. So your confidence rises and falls with inbox activity. Automated responses, silence, ghosting, everything feels like a nasty performance review. You outsource your sense of worth to strangers who barely know you.
Snap out of it. Your skills and your value didn’t evaporate with your job. You’ve built teams, solved impossible problems, and influenced prominent people. None of that disappeared because someone handed you a severance packet. Don’t let that voice in your head try to convince you otherwise. By the way, you’re not auditioning for approval. You’re evaluating mutual fit. Silence from someone doesn’t mean you’re not valuable. It means they’re not your people. Next.
Nobody wants to talk to me. My network is ghosting me. People don’t care. I’ve reached out to dozens of people and heard nothing back. I’ve applied to hundreds of jobs. AI and ATSs filter everything out. LinkedIn is a black hole. The system is broken.
It’s all happening to you, and there’s nothing you can do about it. It’s not your fault you’re still searching. After months of effort, this is a natural place to go. Yet don’t confuse disappointment and anger with powerlessness. You’re not a victim of the system.
People aren’t ghosting you because you’re worthless. People are in their own chaos and probably don’t know how to respond. Tapping someone for a job or a connection to find a job is a huge ask these days. So stop waiting to be rescued by your network, and make it easy for people to respond to you.
Change your ask. Offer something instead of requesting support. Build new connections. Increase visibility within new groups. Have fun in the process, learn, and give. And when someone doesn’t respond? That’s data. You’re testing what works and what doesn’t. That’s what leaders do. They iterate.
It doesn’t mean this is easy. It means recognizing that how you respond still belongs to you.
What if I never find another role? What if I’ve lost my edge? What if people think I’m washed up? What if this is it? What if I run out of money? What if my career is over?
The catastrophe you’re imagining isn’t real. What’s real is this: you’re in transition, and transition is uncomfortable because you can’t see the end of it.
In his book Good to Great, Jim Collins writes: “Every good-to-great company embraced what we came to call the ‘Stockdale Paradox’: you must maintain unwavering faith that you can and will prevail in the end, regardless of the difficulties, and at the same time, have the discipline to confront the most brutal facts of your current reality, whatever they might be.”
Every leader in transition must embrace this paradox too. It’s not about focusing on “getting a job by Easter”, it’s about preparing for the long haul: financials, logistics, relationships, personal organization. This moment requires the same leader who’s done hard things and navigated impossible situations before. The only difference is you can’t know how long it’s going to last. But you never could, and you moved anyway.
I’m too specialized, not technical enough, not strategic enough, too old. Nobody wants someone like me. Maybe I only succeeded before because of the company name, the team, the timing, not because of me.
You don’t apply to roles you’re overqualified for because you’ve convinced yourself you’re underqualified. Or you apply to roles well beneath you and feel crushed by the rejection there. You downplay your achievements because they don’t feel real anymore. You show up to interviews already defeated, waiting for someone to confirm what you secretly believe: you’re not enough.
Your value was never your title. It was your judgment. Your ability to see around corners. The way you developed people. How you navigated complexity. The problems you solved that no one else even saw coming. That didn’t evaporate when your job did. The leader you were is still in there. They’re just wearing the Candidate outfit right now. Take it off. For good.
If you want to tame those little monsters and regain momentum and impact in your search, let’s talk.
