Your 10 defining career moments
About memoirs, memories and what learning you take into 2026
I’m writing my memoir.
We-e-e-e-e-lll, let me rephrase that.
I’m writing down a lot of memories. In 5 year increments.
Julia Cameron made me do it. Or rather, as I mentioned to you before, I’m reading The Artist’s Way for Retirement (alongside The Artist’s Way at Work, which is an interesting exercise in and of itself). Writing your memoir is an exercise in ‘For Retirement’. (I’m not retiring, BTW!)
It’s turning out to be quite a good exercise. I’ve been remembering things that were long forgotten. Seemingly random memories. (Like that time when there was a giant thunderstorm, and all the kids in our school were trying to hide under canopies and school entrances. Why remember such random things?). Alongside significant moments of change and insight.
I thought I’d share this process with you. With a specific focus on work.
Because we spend an awful lot of time at work. Most of it has long been forgotten. But there ARE moments that stand out in your memory. Turning points. Insights. Pain. Joy.
Why we remember certain things (and not others)
Let me start here: your brain is an awfully efficient machine. It wants to do most things on automatic pilot. And it wants to give the most attention to things that might pose a ‘threat’, that put you at risk.
That’s where your emotions come in. Your emotions highlight certain experiences, so that you can remember them. Experiences that have no high emotions attached to them, are therefore carefully being filed into - what I see as - the great big messy kitchen drawer in your brain and then forgotten about. (Everyone has a messy kitchen drawer, right? No? Just me, then). Freeing up your short term memory for things that genuinely require your attention.
Also, have you often wondered why you can only recall certain snippets of a memory, and not the whole experience? That is because your brain is saving space, and only allows you to remember the high (or low) of that experience, and the end.
And finally, there is how we recall certain memories, which are coloured by the mood you’re in, the stress you’re experiencing, the things you’ve just been thinking about, or get triggered by certain events.
No wonder then that writing your memoir, remembering things, is quite a - messy - affair. With snippets of memories, that you can only afterwards attach meaning to.
The 10 key moments at work you remember (and why)
So yes, I’ve been thinking about MY key moments at work. Making myself think about the turnaround points, the points of high emotion, the key moments that made me think and turn into a different direction.
Here they are:
Sexism and power - I don’t know why I had to start with this. Only that this learning occurred very early in my ‘career’. In actual fact, when working a Saturday job in a supermarket. And later in one of my ‘real’ jobs. I remember the mental calculations I made, even when I was as young as 16: ‘Do I say something? Do I just smile and hate this person on the inside? Do I get angry and leave?’
The eternal weighing up of fear and anxiety versus speaking up and doing what you know is right and in alignment with your values. Of power versus powerlessness.
High emotions, all playing out whilst your brain is working overtime, behind the automatic smile and the empty eyes. Which is of course exactly why I remember it so well.Friendship and connection - Have you ever put tarpaulins on a market stall, in the snow, at 6 am on a Saturday morning? Have you ever done that alongside 50 other market stall holders. No? It creates a weird sort of camaraderie and ‘all in it together’ attitude. It creates friendships and familiarity. Something you start appreciating as you go through your ‘proper’ career.
(It also makes you feel COLD. Colder than you’ve ever been. Cold deep into your bones. So cold in fact that not even your first - and second, and third - hot chocolate can make a significant difference. Which may well be the reason that I remember it so well, and can still feel the cold in my bones now).
Laughter and humour - Fresh out of university. No jobs available. So I took an admin job, working for - I believe - a company that published magazines. Six of us in a room, sorting out paper forms with updated contact details (this was the early nineties, the internet and online forms had not yet been invented).
All I remember is that we laughed and laughed and laughed in that room. Boxes and boxes full of forms to process. People occasionally popping their heads round the door to inquire if we could ‘keep the noise down’. Us laughing at THAT.
The job only lasted six weeks. Yes, I earned money, which was nice. But I remember it for the laughter, the unbridled heads-back-tears-streaming-down-your-cheeks kind of laughter.
Respect and inclusion - It was the first thing I did in my first ‘real’ job: make friends with the receptionist. Adele, here name was. An Indonesian-born lady, whose job it was to be - well - the receptionist, and to look after the fax machine (yes, I know, that IS how old I am). She was lovely. She made me cups of tea on Fridays when I sat down with her behind reception for a while. I regularly went to have some banter with the ‘cables’ guys (I worked in a local council) too and eat their biscuits. I regularly talked to solicitors and councillors.
Looking back I can see what I did there (and still do): I talked to everyone. Talked plainly and clearly. Made sure everyone understood what I was saying. Included everyone. Got on with everyone.
(It’s also why - YEARS later - I got VERY irritated with some people, who started talking in high-brow jargon, with the aim of blatantly excluding me from the conversation. Same thing, same values).Achievement - ‘I built that!’ I said to the person next to me in the car. We were driving past a small, insignificant (but highly dangerous!) electricity box. I didn’t, of course. Not physically, anyway. Without me selling the piece of land on behalf of the council though, it wouldn’t have been there. It might sound insignificant. However, I remember it as one of the first - small - achievements in my ‘proper’ career. It made me feel good, useful, with a sense of achievement. It was there, plain for everyone to see. I wanted more of that. I wanted to start things - and finish them. I wanted to see the results. I still do.
(Years later I was part of a project team, which delivered one of the most successful multi-million pound project implementations the organisation I worked for had ever seen. The IT system we successfully implemented was retired 7 years later. Which just shows you that everything is relative. Your greatest achievements? Live on in memories, not always in actual lasting changes. Keeps one humble, if nothing else, and stops you in your track when your achievement drive becomes a Hyper-Achieving Saboteur).Intuition - A new job. I sat in the train to my first day of work. I looked out at the fields and greenhouses that I passed. And my brain said ‘thisisamistakethisisamistakethisisamistake’ to the rhythm of the train wheels. It was. A mistake, I mean. I stayed for 18 months. Eighteen months of misery and stress. I resigned without another job to go to. Yes, that bad. My brain told me ‘I told you so!’ Yes, it did. If only I’d listened.
Deep lows - Heavy eyelids, no energy, feeling like you’re living inside a bubble, not able to reach out to anyone, miserable, ill, stuck. I remember it well. My boss told me that work was the best remedy. He would say that, of course. But in a way he was right, even if it was just to distract myself from the misery going on in my head.
What I also learned was that even when I was - what I would now call - in the middle of depression, I always knew I’d get out of it, at one point. It never got as bad as that again. I remember it well, though, for how I felt, but also for the strength to pull myself out of it. Slowly at first, but with remarkable speed once I got going. We’re stronger than we give ourselves credit for. That’s what I learned.Hormones - We had moved, from the West Country to central London. My job was in central London too. I started in July. A HUGE change all round. (New house, new city, new job, kid in an inner city school. Yeah, why not just do ALL of the top 10 of most stressful things you can do in one foul swoop?)
Six weeks in. My welcome in the new job had been - less than welcoming. I was outside. It was August and hot. I was on the phone to my partner, slowly walking back to the office. I felt down, almost depressed. Had I done the right thing? Should I have dragged my family all the way to London? What if all of this was a mistake?
My next meeting was at 2 pm. Sixth floor. Air-conditioning on full blast. FREEZING cold. And just like that my mood lifted. Like a fleeting cloud. It marked the beginning of a new chapter. One that lots of you will recognise as the beginning of perimenopause. Because that lifting of the cloud meant that being low - that time around - was not about my thoughts, but about hormones. Which meant that it wasn’t me, in a weird roundabout sort of way. It was hormones, my body. It was - somehow - separate from me. And THAT was something I could deal with!Happiness and creativity - I was walking to work. The sky was clear, the air was crisp. A cold February morning. Over the months before I had been working through a lot of emotions in my Morning Pages. Each morning, in the train, three handwritten pages of - well - rubbish, nonsense, whatever came up in my thoughts. The same rubbish that ended up in the bin in front of the station. (I still imagine a bemused bin man picking up my notepad, reading through my Morning Pages and calling me a weirdo. The fact that I’m even thinking this proving once and for all that I am).
Back to me walking though. I was thinking of the day ahead. Slowly I recognised what was happening. I started worrying, moaning about the day ahead, being cynical. You know what I did? I stood still, just for a moment. I breathed in the crisp morning air, I looked up at the sky, opened my eyes wide, put my shoulders back and my head up. And decided there and then that my intention, that day, and every day, was to be happy. To always return to a place of happiness. To a higher level of happiness.
Because happiness is not something to ‘pursue’, or chase. Happiness is a decision, an intention, a daily reset. Happiness is in your control. That’s what I learned, what I remember, what I decided on. There and then. With the help of the Morning Pages. With the help of my unlocked creativity and uncovered thoughts.Freedom - I never wanted to work for myself. Fear, deeply hidden in a layer of so-called laziness. (‘I like my monthly paycheck too much!’). I recognise it now. But what I also know now? How I felt at the times when I stepped away. When I left my job. When I decided to set off on my own. The feeling of expansion in my chest and stomach. The deep breaths. The pride in my decision. The feeling of relief and - yes - freedom. The ability to express - finally - what I’d been holding in. The ability to build something. To create. To help others.
Your freedom is different from mine. Of course it is. But the feeling? I never want to go without.
The lessons you’d like to take forward
So, I shared mine. How about you? What are YOUR memories throughout your career? Your turnaround moments? Your sudden insights? Your life-changing transformation?
What have YOU learned? What memories stand out to you as - well - stand-out moments that made you sit up and take notice?
And - more importantly - which of these lessons would you like to take forward now, now we’re on the cusp of another year?
Memories stand out in your brain because they were important at the time. They were emotionally significant. They provided your brain cause for concern, warned you of risk to your wellbeing. They indicated change, which made your brain raise the alarm. They clashed with your values, it made you sit up and notice, it made you realise what’s important.
It’s not quite writing a memoir, but - in a way - it is!
For me? I find it hard to choose between the ones I wrote down above. Freedom - yes. Happiness - yes. Creativity - absolutely. Friendship - more of that, please!
So, I’m going to make ONE choice, set ONE intention for the new year: Friendship and connection. (Okay, PLUS a little smattering of humour and laughter thrown in for good measure)
How about you?
What memories have shaped YOUR career? And what does that mean for the coming year?
Tineke X
P.S. Sometimes you’ve got to look back to look forward. It’s EXACTLY what we’re doing in my Tell Your Story visual coaching session, in which you TELL your story and I DRAW it. Want more information? Go here:
P.S.2 Do you want to get intentional about making changes in your career? Find out more about my Career Freedom coaching programme!
Want to talk next steps? Book your call and let’s talk!
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Tineke Tammes is a Creative Career & Life Guide for Midlife Women | I help you redesign your next chapter with storytelling, strategy and courage
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