I was 21, sitting in an old Toyota Camry in the driveway of the house, the life, the identity that I felt I desperately needed to leave, with $300 to my name and everything I owned crammed in the backseat.

Including my vintage hood hair dryer.

Because I figured, as long as I could look good and do my hair, I could make it. I'd figure the rest out.

I was about to drive away from everything I'd ever known—my family business, my extremely religious community, the identity of being "the 11th child who stays and follows the rules."

That drive to Minneapolis changed everything. But not because I had a plan. It changed everything because I finally let go of an identity that was suffocating me.

Here's what I've learned after coaching hundreds of leaders through transitions: We cling to identities that once served us, long after they've become our prison.

Maybe you were "the reliable one" who never says no. Or "the technical expert" who's now being asked to lead. Or "the high performer" who's burning out from the pressure to always be perfect.

These identities feel safe because they're familiar. They're how others see us. They're how we see ourselves.

But when we're ready to grow—when we feel that pull toward something more—these old identities become the very thing holding us back.

Last year, I was coaching a fast tracked HR leader, Jenna,  who had  been promoted twice in two years, but she was miserable.

"I don't know who I am anymore," she told me. "I used to be the person who knew all the answers. Now I'm supposed to ask questions and trust my team to figure things out. It feels like I'm not adding value."

Jenna was stuck between two identities: the individual contributor who solved problems, and the leader who developed people.

She was afraid that letting go of being "the expert" meant losing what made her valuable.

Sound familiar?

When I ask leaders why they're holding onto an identity that's clearly not working, the answer is always the same:

"If I'm not this, then who am I?"

This is the core issue behind most leadership plateaus. Not lack of skill. Not lack of opportunity. Fear of becoming irrelevant if we let go of what got us here.

But here's the truth: You're not your identity. You're the person capable of choosing your next identity.

Six months after I arrived in Minneapolis, broke and terrified, I found a great community and plenty of opportunities that dwarfed what I had left behind in Milwaukee, and it was on my own terms.

Here's what nobody tells you about shedding old identities: You'll feel like a fraud for a while.

When I first started in my new career, I felt like I was playing dress-up in a borrowed suit (which, literally, I was). Every meeting felt like someone was going to discover I didn't belong.

That discomfort? It's not a sign you're failing. It's a sign you're growing.

The in-between space—where you're no longer who you were but not yet who you're becoming—is where transformation happens. Most people run back to their old identity because this space feels so uncomfortable.

But if you can stay with it, if you can keep showing up as your emerging self even when it feels awkward, something remarkable happens.

The skills and experiences I gained in that move to Minneapolis prepared me for the career that I've built over the past 15+ years. Not because I became someone completely different, but because I stopped pretending to be someone I wasn't.

When you align your actions with who you're becoming instead of who you've been, everything accelerates:

Last month, Jenna sent me an update. She'd stopped trying to be the expert with all the answers and started being the leader who asked powerful questions.

Her team's performance improved 40% in six weeks. Not because she did more, but because she did less of what was no longer hers to do.

"I finally understand," she wrote. "I wasn't losing my value. I was multiplying it."

Here's your challenge: Identify one way you're showing up that no longer serves you. One small action you can take this week to start stepping into who you're becoming.

Don't wait for permission. Don't wait for certainty. Don't wait for the perfect moment.

Sometimes the most courageous thing you can do is pack your metaphorical car and drive toward the person you're meant to be.

Even if all you have is $300 and a hair dryer.

Trust me, you'll figure out the rest.

If this resonated with you, you're not alone. Every leader I work with is navigating some version of this identity transition.

Book a Strategy Session to explore what's possible when you stop fighting who you're becoming and start leading from that place.

P.S. That vintage hood hair dryer? Still one of my best investments. Sometimes the things that seem silly are actually what give us the confidence to take the leap.