About a year ago, I left my job to start something on my own.

That is not what happened.

What followed was a much less linear process. Instead of immediately launching something new, I felt I first needed space to understand what I actually wanted to build and what kind of work I truly wanted to stand for. Some months felt energizing and full of possibility. Others were heavy, unclear, and deeply uncomfortable. There was more uncertainty than I expected, more fog, and more internal work than I had planned for.

For a while, I also realized that I did not feel comfortable being visible. So I stepped away from social media and stopped trying to force an external presence that did not yet feel grounded. My attention moved elsewhere: finishing my coaching training, working with my first clients, listening more carefully, and trying to understand what was really taking shape underneath the surface.

Looking back, this quieter period was important. It did not look productive in the way visible progress usually does, but something essential was happening there. I was slowly moving from a vague wish to “do something of my own” toward a clearer understanding of the kind of space I want to hold in my work.

One thing became especially clear during that time: I want to work with people in transition.

Again and again, in conversations with clients, colleagues, and friends, I found myself drawn to the same kinds of moments. Moments when something old no longer fits, but the new shape is still unclear. A job change. A move from one role to another. The loss of a familiar structure. A decision that has been waiting for too long, even though the person already knows, somewhere inside, that something has to change.

I also kept noticing another kind of transition that is less visible from the outside: moments when a person appears functional, capable, and composed, but inwardly feels stuck, disconnected, or unable to move. Nothing looks dramatically wrong from the outside, yet inside there is friction, distance, uncertainty, or paralysis.

The same is often true for teams. On the surface, change can look like a new process, a new role model, or a new way of working. But beneath that, it often touches identity, trust, clarity, and the ability to orient together when the familiar structure is no longer enough.

What draws me to these moments is not only that they are difficult. It is also that they are honest. Transition strips away a lot of automatic movement. It asks different questions. It often reveals where we are still attached to roles, expectations, habits, or forms of safety that no longer support us. And even when change is necessary, meaningful, or long overdue, it can still feel disorienting.

This is the space where I want to work.

I want to support people and teams when something is shifting, when the next step is not obvious yet, and when sometimes all that is visible is fog. Not by giving ready-made answers, and not by pushing people toward quick clarity, but by helping create the conditions in which clarity, direction, and movement can begin to emerge.

This understanding has also shaped the work I am now building together with Miroslava Kerdova, my former colleague from our Agile Transformation team. Together, we offer coaching, workshops, and support for individuals and teams navigating change.

At the moment, our work includes:

• 1:1 coaching for people in transition, reorientation, or decision-making phases
• short-term coaching packages focused on clarity, movement, and next steps
• workshops for teams going through change, role shifts, or new ways of working
• reflective support spaces for people who are between structures and trying to regain direction

After a year of working mostly in the background, I am returning to visibility with a much clearer sense of what I do, who I want to work with, and why this work matters to me.

I want this blog to become a place where I write more openly about transition, uncertainty, change, identity, work, and the often uncomfortable process of finding direction when familiar structures no longer hold. These are not abstract themes for me. They have shaped both my own path and the work I am choosing to build.

So this is, in a way, a beginning again.
At the time, I thought the path would become clear rather quickly. I assumed that once I made the decision, the next steps would somehow line up on their own: I would define what I offer, put it into words, start showing up, and begin building the next chapter.