The First Thirty Days Into My Pivot Year: What’s Really Changing

When I asked members of the Executive Encore Network for Women for book recommendations for the Encore Book Club, I was intrigued by Brianne Wiest's The Pivot Year. When I opened The Pivot Year, I expected inspiration. What I didn’t expect was how quickly the first 30 days would begin to rearrange my inner life and align perfectly with other books we were studying.

The early pages repeatedly extend a simple invitation: notice what’s truly happening within you and be willing to pivot from that awareness. This isn't about dramatic transformations or Instagram-worthy affirmations, but rather the quiet, daily shifts: what you finally say "yes" to, what you refuse to tolerate any longer, and how you speak to yourself when you believe no one is listening.

For me, those first 30 days have been less about “self‑improvement” and more about self‑permission: to change my mind, to change my rhythm, and to trust that my encore years can be created from the inside out, not handed to me or validated from the outside.

From role to soul: who am I without my former professional life?
Reading The Inner Work of Age: Shift from Role to Soul alongside The Pivot Year has put language to something I’ve been feeling for many years, across different phases of life. I am no longer content to be defined solely by my professional roles: consultant, coach, organizer, achiever. While those identities were once important to my professional success, they were never the whole story. I also examined my personal roles in the same way - are those roles still relevant to who I am becoming?

Day after day, The Pivot Year asks versions of the same question: “What if nothing is wrong with you for wanting something different now?” Inner Work of Age calls this the move from Hero to Elder: from doing and proving, to listening and being.

In real life, for me, that looks like:

• Letting go of the pressure to always be “on call” for everyone else: professionally and personally
• Choosing depth with a few people and projects instead of scattering myself across many
• Allowing myself to be a beginner again and learning to play the piano, of all things. This has been a personal fulfillment goal of mine since my last major life transition in my early 40s

I've done my research and made the commitment. While I await delivery of my brand new digital piano, I envision myself sitting at my piano keyboard instead of my computer keyboard. As I stumble through a new chord, I'm not performing a role. I'm letting my soul play. I'll play awkwardly, joyfully, and imperfectly, and in doing so, I'll find my way back to the person I truly am, beyond any title.

A longer life means more chapters, not more pressure
The New Long Life reminds me that my life is not a three‑act play of “education–work–retire”. It’s a multi‑stage story with room for several identities and several reinventions, both professionally and personally.

Instead of asking, “What do I do with the rest of my life?”, I’m experimenting with gentler questions:

• “What do I want to learn next?”
• “Who do I want to grow closer to now?”
• “What small way can I contribute that fits this phase of my energy and health?”

Here's how my new commitment to learning to play the piano fits
Learning to play the piano has become a surprisingly practical metaphor here. I’m not trying to become a concert musician. I’m allowing myself another chapter of curiosity and creativity, embracing the joy of research and acknowledging a longtime desire that has become a need that is time to address. The New Long Life calls this “narrating and navigating a new life story” in a changing world. Every practice session is a tiny vote for that new narrative and a big deposit to self-trust.

Four Thousand Weeks and new boundaries with time
Four Thousand Weeks has stepped in as my firm but compassionate time coach (not productivity coach). It keeps reminding me that if I live to around 80, I get roughly 4,000 weeks. A good number of those are already behind me.

The point isn’t to panic; it’s to prioritize.

Instead of aiming to “get on top of everything,” I’m asking, “What is actually worth my time and attention in this one wild, limited week?” That question has quietly, but profoundly, reshaped my boundaries:

• I’m saying no more often to work that drains me, even if I could do it. Interestingly, this boundary was well on its way to being effective during the pandemic.
• I’m blocking regular “white space” for piano practice, walks at home and at the beach, bike rides, reading, and simple puttering.
• I’m allowing some (actually many) emails, expectations, and even relationships to move from “urgent” to “optional.”

Work-life harmony, the theme of this month's group coaching, is less about balancing everything and more about honouring my non-negotiables: my mental and emotional health, my closest relationships, and one or two creative or learning commitments that make me feel alive.

What these first thirty days are really teaching me
If I had to name the throughline of the first 30 days of The Pivot Year, woven together with our Encore Book Club readings, it would be this:

• Nothing is wrong with me for changing. In fact, my questions and longings are signs that I’m paying attention.
• I am allowed to step out of old roles and let my soul have more say in how I live.
• In a longer life, my encore years are not leftovers; they are a full chapter that deserves intention and care.
• My time is finite, which makes boundaries an act of wisdom, not selfishness.

And perhaps most importantly: I don’t have to redesign my encore life in one giant leap. I can pivot through a series of small, honest and healthy choices, one practice session at the piano, one rebalanced week, one brave boundary at a time. Nor do I have to do it alone. Family and members of the Executive Encore Network for Women are part of my support system for fulfillment.

That is the story I want readers to hear: your life is not over; your canvas is not used up. You are allowed to start exactly where you are, with what you already have within you, and begin painting the next chapter in strokes that feel true.

If you could take one small "pivot action" this week—something that truly honours your soul over your old role—what would it be? 

For many, the first step is subscribing to the Encore Newsletter below. The next step is joining the Executive Encore Network for Women. Learn more in the newsletter and on the website. As a member of this community, you'll gain access to exclusive reflection posts from my journey through The Pivot Year, along with resources designed to turn learning into real, actionable change.

Twice a year, I gather a small circle of women who've left the work that built them to walk through the threshold together. Maybe that's your next step. Join the waitlist for the next Threshold Circle cohort here.