Faye McDonough

When I headed out for the train at 7.30am a couple of Fridays ago, I was giddy with excitement. This wasn’t an ordinary Friday trip for a course in London. This was day 1 of a weekend devoted entirely to me and my passions.

I’ve written before about my solo trip away to a yoga retreat. It was bliss – but it did come with the added complications of guilt, discomfort and gendered expectations.

This particular weekend offered something different. The boys were having an adventure of their own, quality time with their dad and a chance to connect with two special places in our life, Liverpool and the Wirral. No guilt or discomfort there and as the trip was football based, nobody questioned why I was ‘home alone’. 

I packed the weekend with comedy, rest, learning, a yoga retreat, massage and writing. I couldn’t believe my luck. It was the first time in 10 years of working parenthood I’d been totally ‘home alone’ with complete freedom over my time.

But more importantly than all that perhaps, it was an opportunity to honour reaching that milestone. 10 years feels like a real moment of celebration and reflection. I’m a different person in 2026 than I was in 2016 and that’s not just because it’s the decade I became a parent. My professional life has changed significantly. 

But there is also a sense of coming home. Coming back to the real Faye before all of this began. A solo weekend gave me the perfect opportunity to reflect on the evolution of my own identity through the past decade and the influences of illness, parenthood and redundancy.

What I Wish I’d Known

Ten years ago, I thought keeping my professional identity strong would be enough. I thought if I just worked hard enough, stayed visible enough, proved my value enough, I could navigate motherhood and career without losing myself.

I was wrong. Not because I didn’t work hard, but because I thought I could control the outcome through sheer effort. That’s not how identity works and that’s definitely not how life works.

The Identity Crisis No One Tells You About

I’ve felt the tug of many different identities throughout the past decade.

My professional identity loomed large as I became a mother. I insisted on no baby gifts as the due date approached with a vigour that surprises me now (my colleagues plumped for an extra large Diptyque candle instead!).

I took up my place on a women’s leadership development programme throughout maternity leave, juggling nap times with course work. A decision I’d make again I’m sure (I absolutely love learning) but it was also fuelled by fear. Fear of leaving my real self behind, fear of becoming consumed by motherhood, and fear of losing my well-earned respect and position in a large corporate machine.

The readjustment to work post-maternity leave was not seamless. Colleagues congratulated me on looking the same but I felt different, even if I couldn’t put my finger on it exactly. Looking back now, it was a mix of vulnerability and sheer exhaustion (despite a baby who could sleep for England) not helped by a quick descent into redundancy and restructure. The steps I’d taken to keep myself relevant proved ultimately futile.

That first redundancy was seismic. It brought an end to a near 10-year journey with a high street bank. I started to question who I was without the white & blue business card and for the first time realised how much I’d sheltered under the ‘Large Corporate’ umbrella. Gaining a sense of security and complicated prestige from who I worked for, knowing that the questions would stop there. My job title and employer was enough for most people; as my mother-in-law liked to say ‘Faye is very high up in the Bank’ (despite the fact that I wasn’t).

When Your Body Forces the Issue

Then, three years into the decade, as I was preparing to make my second return to work after maternity leave, my body intervened. An autoimmune condition emerged with symptoms I couldn’t ignore.

I knew my lifestyle wasn’t sustainable. My body was telling me that in terms I couldn’t dismiss or push through. It was the wake-up call I needed, arriving precisely when I was getting ready to prove myself all over again in a new role with two children instead of one. I looked at my overwhelming schedule blankly, trying to figure out how I could make it all work.

Step by step, I started to make changes. Small ones at first. HIIT classes in the garden. Drinking more water. Walking instead of rushing. They seemed insignificant individually, but gradually they built up to something significant. A different relationship with work. A different understanding of what I was willing to sacrifice. A clearer set of boundaries and greater awareness of what I need to be happy. 

A second redundancy as my children approached primary school was another lesson in who I am, what I want to work for, and the role of purpose in my life. I was better prepared this time, unable to ignore the lessons my illness had taught me. I rode the wave of the change. I’d learned to share my experience openly, leaving behind the shackles of shame that first redundancy brought. I was more deliberate in my next steps, but it still changed and challenged me. It challenged us financially too, as a family at a time when we’d reached a point of hard-earned stability.

What Changed

But if I’m truly honest, the health condition and second redundancy weren’t just things that made me slow down. They changed my entire relationship with work, ambition and what I was willing to sacrifice.

I can see the impact in so many aspects of my life. The moments I now fiercely guard: walking the boys to school, leaving on time for yoga class, going offline during evenings and weekends. These gradually became non-negotiable.

There was the career shift from investing in what felt like, already wealthy entrepreneurs to using finance to change people’s lives in the city that I live in. That decision emerged gradually through everything I’d been through, driven by wanting to make my children proud and make the sacrifices of working parenthood worthwhile.

How I protect my boundaries in the dynamic work environments I so enjoy. How I’ve created space to come back to who I was before all of this happened.

What started as working out in the garden and eating mindfully has turned into space created for long-distance bike rides with my best friend, long walks in nature, a solitary yoga retreat and ultimately this recent celebratory weekend. It took time, but here I am.

What Actually Matters 

If I could go back to 2016 Faye, here’s what I’d tell her:

Feel your feelings. All of them. The turbulence of these experiences – redundancy, health challenges, identity shifts – they’re not problems to solve or emotions to suppress. They’re information. They’re moments of learning. Acknowledging them isn’t weakness, it’s the only way through.

Let go of the need to control. I spent years trying to control my way to the outcome I wanted through sheer effort, planning and strategising. It doesn’t work. Ride the wave instead. See where you land. Some of the best things that happened to me came from paths I never would have chosen. 

Protect your health from day one. Make it non-negotiable before your body forces the issue. I learned this the hard way, and it was a tough lesson but I’m grateful for it. It’s one I’ll never forget and influences so many of my choices today.

And above all: self-care isn’t selfish. It’s the thing that allows you to show up for everything else. Not the social media version with face masks, manicures and bubble baths, but the real version – boundaries, rest, saying no, making space for the parts of yourself that aren’t “mother” or “professional.”

Coming Home 

Slowly but surely over the last few years, I’ve started to create the time to do what I enjoy. That weekend was a perfect example, rooted in what’s important to me now. It was good to see that I’d come full circle. Faye was back. I’d slowly re-emerged and was in full force! 

The weekend was exhilarating, joyous, liberating and pure relaxation. But it was also strange being at home alone. Without the usual chores filling every gap, I was more aware of my feelings. Perhaps more aware of my discomfort without the same number of distractions. 

The house didn’t feel complete without the boys. That emptiness was a reminder that motherhood is a big part of my life, not something I want to escape from permanently. Not sleeping well proved something else. I missed them. The quiet that should have been peaceful felt unsettling. I needed their noise and chaos to properly settle.

The yoga retreat on day 2 of the weekend brought an unexpected revelation. When we opened with how we were feeling, I described myself as ‘chilled.’ Around the circle, everyone else shared different versions of tired, depleted, exhausted. It struck me then how much energy you can gain from even a short period of time alone. But perhaps it wasn’t just about being alone, it was about investing time in my passions and the things that nourish me without the weight of responsibility. 

I was deeply grateful for this gift of time. Overjoyed to see the returning travellers when they burst back through the door, and equally grateful that I’d had the chance to reflect on the past ten years and remember who I am when I’m just Faye, not Faye-the-professional or Faye-the-parent.

Questions for Your Own Reflection

• How much of your identity is tied to your job title, employer, or professional status?
• What are you trying to control that might need to be released?
• Is your body trying to tell you something you’re not listening to?
• What parts of yourself have you been hiding or minimising in your professional life?
• If you could go back to the start of your working parenthood journey, what’s the one thing you’d tell yourself to protect?

I’d love to hear from you. What parts of yourself have you let go of in the rush of career and life responsibilities? And if you had a weekend entirely to yourself, what would you fill it with? How have you changed in the last 10 years? 

Drop a comment or send me a message at hello@fayemcdonough.com – I’m genuinely curious what this brings up for you.

If you’d like to read more about my experiences of redundancy and restructure, my Professional Coherence series might be for you.

Mirror selfie from 2015. Trying to hide the bump in an uncharacteristically baggy dress before a presentation. Didn’t work! I don’t hide anymore.