People often assume consultants thrive on pressure — that we’re wired for complexity, comfortable with responsibility, and energised by the challenges that make others run.

Most of the time, that’s true.

But there was a moment in my career where I had reached my limit.

A project had gone badly.
A business partnership had broken down.
I was exhausted, disappointed, and painfully disillusioned.

For the first time since I’d stumbled into consulting, I found myself thinking:

“I’m done.”

Not “I need a break.”
Not “I need a new client.”
Not “I need a holiday.”

Just… done.

Done with delivery.
Done with responsibility.
Done with the weight of being the one people call when things go wrong.
Done with the politics, the expectations, and the pressure to perform every single day.

So I walked away.

Choosing Safety Over Calling

I made what I thought was a sensible, grounded decision:

I took a simple 9–5 job.

No leadership responsibility.
No major decisions.
No deadlines that controlled my evenings.
No client politics.
No storms to navigate.

Just turn up, do the job, and go home.

It felt safe.
Predictable.
Comfortable.

For about three months.

Because slowly, the simplicity that had felt like relief… started to feel like suffocation.

I missed the complexity.
I missed the challenge.
I missed shaping things.
I missed coaching teams.
I missed solving the problems no one else wanted to touch.
I missed the buzz, the responsibility, the difference you can make when you’re empowered to actually make it.

I wasn’t burned out.
I was misplaced.

But I still wouldn’t have admitted that — not until the phone rang.

“You are consulting. You have to come back.”

It was a former client.

Someone I’d delivered for years earlier.
Someone who knew my style, my standards, my approach.
Someone who had no idea I’d left the industry completely.

They didn’t call to check in.
They didn’t call with small talk.

They called because they needed help.

A major programme was veering off track.
They needed someone who could come in, cut through the noise, stabilise delivery, rebuild structure, and lead the turnaround.

I politely explained that I wasn’t consulting anymore — that I’d stepped away, that I was “taking time out,” that I was doing something simpler for a while.

They didn’t even pause.

“Chris, you are consulting.
This is what you do.
You have to come back and help us.”

I can still hear the conviction in their voice.

It wasn’t flattery.
It wasn’t pressure.
It was clarity.

Clarity I couldn’t see for myself.

The Realisation That Changed Everything

In that moment, something clicked:

I hadn’t chosen consulting.
Consulting had chosen me.

It wasn’t just a job.
It was a craft.
A mindset.
A way of seeing the world — of seeing opportunity in chaos, clarity in confusion, structure in disorder.

I didn’t miss the work because I was addicted to pressure.
I missed the work because I had purpose in it.

Because this profession — with all its intensity — is where I make the biggest difference.

And I wanted that back.

Returning With Renewal, Not Exhaustion

I said yes.
Not immediately — but quicker than I expected.

And when I stepped back into the room, it felt like putting on a suit of armour that had been hanging in the cupboard too long.

Everything aligned again:

• the strategic thinking

• the delivery muscle

• the ability to calm the storm

• the instinct for clarity

• the confidence in uncertainty

I didn’t return to the same career.

I returned to a renewed version of it — one I now chose intentionally, not by momentum.

What That Low Point Taught Me

1. Burnout doesn’t always mean you hate the profession

Sometimes it just means you’re carrying the wrong weight, with the wrong people, in the wrong environment.

2. Walking away isn’t failure — it’s clarity

Those three months gave me perspective I would never have gained if I’d stayed.

3. Your calling has a way of finding you again

Sometimes it takes someone else to remind you of who you are.

4. Resetting your career isn’t weakness — it’s maturity

The break didn’t diminish me; it rebuilt me.

5. You shouldn’t measure your value by one bad project or one broken partnership

Those moments feel huge when you’re in them.
They are tiny when you step back.

Looking Back

That period changed me.

It refined my identity as a consultant.
It strengthened my boundaries.
It sharpened my sense of purpose.
It made me more intentional about the work I take on, the people I partner with, and the environments I step into.

And every now and then, when things get tough or a project hits turbulence, I remember that call:

“You are consulting. You have to come back.”

They didn’t just bring me back into the profession.

They reminded me why I belonged there.