When Feedback Lands a Bit Too Close to Home: Finding My Spark Again

Most of us expect performance reviews to point out things like project management, timelines, communication: the usual areas you can tighten up with a bit of focus. This year, my development feedback wasn’t about any of that. It wasn’t something I could fix with a course or a checklist.

It was about passion, or more accurately, the fact that people couldn’t see mine anymore.

That stopped me in my tracks.

For the five years before this role, I was consistently one of the top performers. I’d walk into new teams and slot straight in. I became the person people relied on, the one who delivered, the one who could handle almost anything thrown my way. Not because I was chasing praise, but because the work genuinely lit me up.

So getting feedback that my passion was missing felt unsettling, not insulting, just honest in a way I hadn’t been with myself.

And the signs had been there long before the review. Last year I was offered some incredible speaking opportunities, ones that would have given me exposure to potentially millions of people. I don’t get many opportunities like that, which made it even more telling that I turned them down. They were centred on infectious diseases, and I simply couldn’t get myself to care enough to prepare, learn, or speak with any real conviction. The topic wasn’t aligned with me, and I didn’t want to build a reputation in a space that didn’t feel like mine. At the time, I couldn’t fully explain why. Now it’s glaringly obvious.

That’s what made the feedback land so strongly: it wasn’t pointing to a skill gap. It was pointing to a misalignment. People had noticed something I’d been feeling for months — that I wasn’t showing up with the same energy because the work didn’t connect with me. Eventually I reached the point where staying in that role felt like trying to perform a version of myself that simply wasn’t real anymore. And that’s not fair to me, or to the people who genuinely thrive in that space.

Add to that the fact that the role demanded a level of detail that just isn’t how I naturally operate. At 45, I know what I’m good at and where I add value. I can handle detail, but it doesn’t bring out my best. I think in ideas, strategy, communication, creativity — that’s where I do my strongest work. When those strengths aren’t being used, everything else starts to dim.

Fast-forward to now.

I’m in a role where the mission makes sense to me again. The science resonates. The ideas are flowing. The pace is absolutely wild and I didn’t exactly “settle in”, it’s been more like stumbling straight into a moving train, but even with the chaos, I feel awake again. The version of me I thought I’d lost wasn’t gone; she was just in the wrong environment.

And that’s the real lesson from all of this:

Sometimes “areas for development” aren’t telling you to try harder. They’re telling you you’re not where you’re meant to be.