Ep 118 - Call it a Do-Over

What happens when the life you fought to get turns out to be the wrong fit—and you realize you have to start over again? This episode tackles one of the hardest admissions in transition: that the path you chose isn't working, and staying just because you've already invested time doesn't make it the right call. If you're stuck in something that doesn't fit but terrified that leaving means you're a quitter, this conversation will help you see that capable people don't stay on the wrong path just to avoid looking indecisive. They adjust.

Transcript

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Have you ever taken a path that seemed right and realized way down the line that you made the wrong choice? Hi, this is Jordana, the CEO of the Recon Network and host of the Imbrief Podcast. And today we're talking about one of the hardest things to admit in transition, that you need to start over. And unfortunately, we aren't just talking about the beginning when you first leave service, but doing it after, when the job you took doesn't fit or the city you moved to isn't working, or the path you committed to leads somewhere that you don't want to go. It happens a lot. And we're going to talk about why starting over doesn't mean you failed, how to recognize when it's time to shift, and how to actually do it without carrying the weight of what didn't work. This is in brief. Let's get to it. Let's start with something most people don't talk about. Starting over isn't a one-time thing. It's not just the moment that you leave the military and step into civilian life. Sure, that's a start, but it's not the only one. Because transition doesn't end when you land somewhere. It ends when you land somewhere that fits. And for a lot of people, the first place they land isn't it. So you take a job, you commit to a program or a position, and for a while it's fine. It's not perfect, but it's stable. It's not what you wanted, but it makes sense. And then months or years later, you look up and you realize this isn't working. And now you have to make a choice. Do you stay because leaving feels like admitting failure? Or do you start over again and deal with the weight of knowing you got it wrong the first time? It's the worst. And here's what makes the second start harder than the first. The first time you start over, it makes sense. You're leaving the military and everyone expects you to start fresh. But the second time, that feels like a failure. You made a decision and now you're undoing it. And that looks like you didn't know what you were doing, or at least you feel like it does. But here's the truth: starting over isn't failure, it's course correction. And course correction is what capable people do when they realize they're on the wrong path. The mistake isn't taking the path that didn't work. The mistake is staying on it after you figured out that it didn't work. So let's talk about why the first path after service so often doesn't work. Because it's not random and it's not just you. Almost half of those who leave service will make one or more switches in the first year. But here's what typically happens when you leave the military, you're making decisions from a place of incomplete information. You don't know what civilian work actually feels like. You don't know what kind of environment you need to thrive in, and you don't know what your non-negotiables are yet because you haven't had to test them. So you do what is normal. You take the first good offer, the one that pays well, the one that sounds impressive or makes logical sense, and then you live in it. And only then can you realize that it's not what you thought it was. Maybe the pay doesn't make up for culture or the title doesn't make up for the work. And by the time you realize it, you've already invested months, sometimes even years. And walking away feels like throwing a lot of it away. But here's what you need to understand: the time you've already invested isn't the reason to stay. In fact, there's a whole concept based on this idea called the sunk cost fallacy, where you feel like you've invested too much to leave something, even when leaving is clearly the bigger payout. That's the sunk cost part. And the fallacy is that our brains really, really want to think we are capable of turning anything around, so we stay. Instead, what we need to be doing is taking the information that we've learned. This isn't working. So that knowledge, that clarity about what we don't want is what makes the next step smarter. So when you do start over, whether it's a second time or an 11th, you're not starting from zero, you're starting with experience. But here's the fear that will keep you stuck if you let it. You get in your head, what if I'm wrong again? What if I leave this and the next thing doesn't work either? What if I keep starting over and I never land anywhere? That fear is real, but so is the anxiety that you're building over it. But staying in something that doesn't fit because you're afraid the next thing won't fit either is not a strategy. In fact, here's what that point of view misses. Every time you start over, you get better at it. You know more about what you need or what you want. You know more what to look for, you know more about questions to ask before you commit to something. That first start is really just a guess. The second start becomes informed. And if there's a third or fourth, it's even sharper. At that point, it's not failure, it's iteration. So let's talk about how you actually start over without feeling like you're dismantling everything you've just built. First, separate decision from identity. Leaving a job doesn't mean you're a quitter, and leaving a city doesn't mean you're unstable. It just means that you're willing to adjust when data changes. Second, identify what you keep. Starting over doesn't mean you lose everything. You do keep the skills you built, some relationships you might have made, and clarity about what doesn't work. Hold on to what is necessary to move forward and what is helpful. Third, tell people, but not everyone, just the people who matter. Because the shame of starting over can grow in silence. When you keep it to yourself, your brain spins stories about what it means, who it means you are, what it means you can do, or what you're capable of. But when you say it out loud, I took a job and it wasn't the right fit, so I'm making a change. Most people will respond with understanding, not judgment. Because a lot of people have been there. And guess what? The ones who haven't aren't the ones whose opinions should shape your decisions about it. Your nervous system is going to resist starting over, so just be ready for it. Starting over means uncertainty, and uncertainty feels like a threat. Your system wants stability, it wants predictability. So even if the predictable thing is bad, it's at least known. And starting over throws you back into unknown territory. So your little lizard brain will give you every reason to stay. It'll tell you it's really not that bad. You should give it more time. Leaving is reckless. Look at everything you've built here. But as we've discussed, leaning into that is just a fallacy. There is no trophy for staying somewhere that you shouldn't be longer than you should be there. So if you're in a place right now where you know, really know that you need to start over, here's what I want you to do. Write down what staying costs. Not in theory, in reality. What does it cost you to stay in this job for another year? What does it cost you to stay exactly where you are? Or keep pretending that the path is working. Write it down. The cost of starting over feels immediate and visible. There are things that you are losing in hopes that you will gain something. But the cost of staying is slow and invisible. And you need to be able to see it clearly before you can make an accurate call. Starting over isn't going backward, it's adjusting course with better information. And every time you're willing to do that, every time you're willing to walk away from something that isn't working, instead of forcing yourself to stay in it, you get closer to a thing that actually fits. And it's not because you got lucky, it's because you kept moving until you found it.

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Leaving the military can feel chaotic, especially when you feel you should have a plan right away. But not knowing what's next doesn't mean you're failing. It means you're in transition. At the Recon Network, we help veterans and military spouses navigate transition by focusing on stability, direction, and alignment before outcomes are expected, so you can map your future without rushing the wrong move or spending years building a life out of sync with your purpose. Don't rush your next step. Navigate it with intention with Recon. Learn more about our programs and services at Recon.vet.