I Leaned In… And Now I’m Just Holding

Somewhere in the depths of my 20s, I read Lean In. Because, of course, I did. It was the book—the career bible, the corporate girl boss manifesto. It was what ambitious women were supposed to read, absorb, and embody. Sheryl Sandberg told us to take a seat at the table, speak up, go for the promotion, lean in to opportunity.

And like a good corporate disciple, I did.

We all did.

And then something happened.

I leaned in just a little too much. And now I’m here. Senior. Responsible. Expected to have answers.

I keep seeing these posts on Instagram and TikTok, they are all the same. Women looking slightly horrified, realising they 'boss-girled' too hard. One minute, they were hustling, grinding, ticking off career milestones. The next? People look at them for decisions. Direction. Vision.

And I just sit there nodding because, yeah, me too.

Like, how did this happen?

One day, you’re the eager one in the room, raising your hand for extra projects, showing initiative. The next, people are coming to you, waiting for some grand, confident response.

And I’m just sitting there thinking: 

Why are you asking me?

Do you know how chaotic my life is?

If you did, you wouldn’t let me make a single decision, let alone one with a budget attached.

But you can’t say that, can you? So instead, you nod. You scan their face for clues, do a mental coin flip, and say, “Let’s go with Option A.” They look relieved. They smile. And you think, Phew, that was the right answer, wasn’t it?

I swear to God, this whole career thing feels like the London Underground. You’re aiming for the District Line, but you walk a bit too fast, and before you know it, that tiny turning is gone. Suddenly, you’re on the Northern Line platform, staring at signs that used to mention the District Line—until they don’t. And you think, Was it ever really there? But you keep walking, because what else can you do? Maybe the District Line will show up again. Worst case, you jump on the Northern Line and try to loop back around.

That’s my career.

That’s leaning in.

But here’s where I think I got it wrong.

I thought I had to keep moving. I thought leaning in meant an upward trajectory—always climbing, always reaching for the next rung. But I actually don’t have to keep going. I could just… hold.

Like a plank.

That exercise where you’re just holding. No upward or downward movement. My PT says it’s great for my core, and I believe her, even though I’m not sure why. But here’s the thing: if I just hold here for a bit, maybe I get stronger. Maybe I get more time for movies, theatre, reading real books instead of buying them. Maybe I finally start that house refurb instead of pretending it doesn’t exist.

Because if I’m not constantly scrambling for the next thing, I might actually have space to enjoy life. 

Imagine that.

And I don’t even resent Sheryl Sandberg for Lean In. She believed in it. We believed in it. But what we weren’t told—what no one warned us about—is that at some point, you lean in so much that you fall in.

And once you’re in, you’re in.

There’s no backing out, no returning to the days of harmless career experimentation, of low-stakes trial and error. Suddenly, you’re at the table, and people expect you to lead.

But maybe leadership for me isn’t about endlessly climbing. Maybe it’s about knowing when to push forward and when to hold. When to steady yourself. When to make space for things beyond work.

So that’s where I’m at.

Holding.

Letting my core get stronger.

Figuring out what I actually want—without rushing to the next thing just because I can.

And honestly? I think that’s enough.