On November 7, 2023, my career ended. Not with a dramatic firing, not with a bitter exit, but with an acquisition that made my role redundant. Nearly three decades in the industry. Nine years in an executive role at a biotech company. And then: nothing.
I didn’t just lose a job. I lost the scaffolding I’d built my professional identity on. I told myself it was a blip. I was wrong.
What followed was something I’ve come to call “professional identity purgatory”—a seemingly endless holding pattern with no title, no structure, and no clear direction. It’s the space between who you were professionally and who you might become.
In Catholic theology, purgatory is the in-between—not heaven, not hell, but a passage of purification before something better. That’s the metaphor I keep returning to because “professional identity purgatory” isn’t failure, it’s transition with no timeline. It’s the disorienting gap between losing an identity you’d spent decades building and not yet knowing what replaces it.
We are currently in a period defined by significant professional transition. Millions of people are likely about to enter “professional identity purgatory” thanks to AI. I’m not an economist or a technologist, but what I do know—from living it, and from watching peers navigate it—is that the threat AI potentially poses to professionals goes deeper than lost tasks or restructured roles. It strikes at something more fundamental: the sense that what you spent your career mastering still matters. For generations, professional identity was durable—you built expertise, accumulated knowledge, climbed. Technology is disrupting that continuity in ways that are genuinely hard to sit with, not because the work disappears overnight, but because professional relevance starts to feel less certain. For people whose self-worth is tied to that relevance, the uncertainty alone can be destabilizing.
For people who’ve built their self-worth around titles, expertise, and relentless forward momentum, purgatory is particularly brutal. We don’t do well in holding patterns. We fill them with activity, with meetings, projects, and anything that mimics the rush that comes with progress. We avoid the discomfort at all costs, because the discomfort forces a reckoning we’ve spent our careers outrunning: Who am I without the work?
What I’ve Learned (and am Still Learning) Inside Purgatory
I want to be clear: I don’t have a framework, tools or tips on how to handle purgatory because I’m not on the other side yet. But I’ve been living in “professional identity purgatory” long enough to offer a few observations for those who may join me soon.
Stop filling voids with noise. My first instinct after leaving was to pack my calendar with things that felt familiar—networking coffees, mentoring conversations, advising. All legitimate. All also avoidance. Purgatory is uncomfortable by design. It’s trying to tell you something. The busier you stay, the harder it is to hear the message.
Let your identity be provisional. I still catch myself introducing myself with my old title—only now with a “former” as a qualifier. There’s no shame in that. Shaping your identity isn’t a quick iPhone OS update. The work in purgatory is learning to hold your professional self loosely—to try on new versions of yourself rather than defend the old one.
Redefine what expertise means. AI may automate much of the world around us. But it can’t touch judgement. Relationships. Context. The capacity to ask the right question rather than just answer the one in front of you. Those things don’t disappear with your title. They just need a new vehicle.
“Professional identity purgatory” is not a detour. For many of us, it may be the most important time in our careers—the place where the question we’ve been outrunning finally catches up: not “What do I do now?” but “Who am I when I’m not doing it?”
The professionals facing AI-driven disruption in the coming years won’t all lose their jobs overnight. But when it does happen, many will be met with the realization that their professional role was directly tied to their sense of self. The structure. The daily purpose. The identity.
When that happens, the instinct will be to run—to fill the void, project confidence, land the next thing as fast as possible. I’ve tried all of it. I understand the impulse.
But the purgatories we run from are very often the ones we need most. I’m still in mine. I’m tired of running. And for the first time in thirty years, I’m learning what it feels like to simply be still.
Geoff Curtis is the former executive vice president, corporate affairs and chief communications officer at Horizon Therapeutics. During his nearly 30-year health care communications career, he has worked domestically and internationally in various roles on both the client and agency side. This column is adapted from his book, Embracing Your Own Purgatory, which is available now.
On November 7, 2023, I experienced the abrupt end of my nearly three-decade-long career in the biotech industry, culminating in nine years as an executive. The acquisition of my company rendered my role redundant, leaving me without a job and, more significantly, without the professional identity that I had meticulously constructed over the years. This unexpected transition thrust me into what I refer to as “professional identity purgatory”—a disorienting state characterized by the absence of a title, structure, and clear direction.
In Catholic theology, purgatory serves as an intermediary state of purification before one reaches a better place. I liken my current experience to this metaphor, as it embodies the challenging phase between losing a long-established identity and grappling with the uncertainty of what lies ahead. Unlike failure, which has a definitive endpoint, this purgatory is a transition without a clear timeline, filled with doubt and introspection.
As we navigate a world increasingly influenced by AI, millions may find themselves stepping into similar purgatories. The potential threat posed by AI extends beyond mere job loss or altered roles; it fundamentally challenges the relevance of the expertise we’ve spent years developing. Traditionally, professional identity has been stable, built on acquired knowledge and skills. However, the rapid pace of technological change is creating an unsettling environment where that continuity is disrupted. For many, especially those whose self-worth is closely tied to their professional identity, this uncertainty can be profoundly destabilizing.
For individuals who have defined themselves through titles, expertise, and a relentless pursuit of progress, purgatory can be particularly harsh. The instinct is to keep busy—filling schedules with meetings and networking to replicate that sense of forward motion. However, this avoidance only obscures the underlying discomfort and delays the necessary reckoning: the critical question of one’s identity beyond professional roles.
While I cannot provide a definitive framework for navigating this purgatory—since I’m still entrenched in it—I can share some insights based on my experiences thus far.
Firstly, it’s essential to avoid filling the void with noise. Initially, I sought to occupy my time with familiar activities like networking and mentoring, which ultimately proved to be a form of avoidance. Purgatory serves a purpose, offering valuable lessons that are often drowned out by constant busyness. Embracing the discomfort can lead to deeper insights.
Secondly, it’s important to allow your professional identity to be provisional. I often find myself introducing myself with my previous title, now prefixed by “former.” This acknowledgment is not a source of shame but a part of the evolving process of identity formation. Rather than clinging to an old version of myself, I’m learning to embrace new iterations of my professional identity.
Moreover, redefining what expertise encompasses is crucial. While AI may automate many tasks, it cannot replicate the nuances of human judgment, relationships, context, and the ability to ask insightful questions. These elements of expertise remain intact; they simply require new avenues for expression in a transformed landscape.
“Professional identity purgatory” is not merely a detour but potentially one of the most pivotal times in our careers. It forces us to confront not just what we do, but who we are when stripped of those roles. Many professionals facing AI-induced disruptions will not lose their jobs immediately but will eventually confront the reality that their professional identities were intertwined with their sense of self. The structure and daily purpose that came from their roles will be disrupted, leading to a common impulse to rush into new opportunities in an effort to fill the void.
I understand this impulse all too well; I’ve tried to project confidence and quickly secure the next role. However, the purgatories we often seek to escape may provide the most critical opportunities for growth and self-discovery. I’m still navigating my own purgatory and am learning to embrace stillness for the first time in thirty years.
In conclusion, the journey through “professional identity purgatory” is a complex and challenging process. It requires us to confront our identities beyond our professional roles, to redefine our understanding of expertise, and to embrace the discomfort of uncertainty. As we face a rapidly changing professional landscape, it is essential to recognize that this period of transition can lead to profound personal and professional growth if we are willing to engage with it authentically.
Geoff Curtis, the author of this reflection, served as the executive vice president, corporate affairs, and chief communications officer at Horizon Therapeutics. His vast experience in healthcare communications spans nearly three decades and includes roles on both the client and agency sides, both domestically and internationally. This piece is adapted from his book, Embracing Your Own Purgatory, which is available for those seeking guidance through similar transitions.
