In 2016, Jen Hibberd had been working in the same PR role for 11 years and began to want a change. She thought about retraining as a fitness instructor or running her own business, but neither of them came to fruition. Now pregnant with her second child, she had joined the Busylizzy fitness club for new mothers in Horsham, where she had recently moved. When she found out the franchise was for sale, she thought it was the dream opportunity she had been looking for.
“It felt like the company was there, waiting for me, ready to go,” says Jen, 44. “It was a big part of my maternity leave – exercise was important to me, as well as meeting other new mums and having these conversations about how hard it was. It felt valuable to be able to make it easier for other people.”
Identifying the elusive “dream job” is often a challenge. School leavers are pushed towards some professions more than others: according to a report by Legal and General, teaching is the most popular, followed by veterinarians, doctors and professional sports, due to exposure on TV or films. However, in the face of economic uncertainty, career criteria are changing.
Initially, Jen threw herself into the business, wanting to provide new mothers with the support she enjoyed. She expanded Busylizzy’s offer to include pregnancy fitness classes, sleep and weaning workshops, and new events. “I loved doing it…I felt like I did a really good job.”
But there were drawbacks. Jen’s salary was based on sales – and at first she received no salary at all. This was an adjustment to having a good, stable income and put additional pressure on her husband. Working with 12 instructors in six locations was a delicate logistical operation. If something went wrong, she was always responsible for finding a solution, which meant she was never able to take adequate, uninterrupted time off. “It was completely all-consuming in terms of headspace,” he says. “Even when nothing went wrong, I felt panic. I could never be without my phone. I always had to be turned on.
The business model, aimed at new mothers and pregnant mothers, inevitably meant constant replacement of memberships. Recognizing that the work was becoming increasingly repetitive, Jen ultimately decided to sell the company in 2022.
She approached her former company, Liberty, about freelancing and was invited back full-time. Returning to the same job she had left six years earlier was a strange experience: she was now completely remote, the team had changed, and the company’s focus had changed. “I didn’t really want to go back to Liberty,” she says. “I had imposter syndrome because everyone knew I worked there and my name was still on the documents. I felt like I had to come in and prove my worth.
However, this experience clarified Jen’s priorities: at the end of the day, she can switch off, enjoy a stable income, and be part of a team. “I am their boss, but I am not their boss the boss. It’s not entirely up to me,” he says. “Now I’m looking for the ability to maintain a work-life balance… It’s knowing that there is more to life than just work.”
Lidia (left) dreamed of being a primary school teacher, but it wasn’t what she imagined. Sal (right) went from medical school to working in HR
While Jen’s entry into Busylizzy was more accidental, Lydia Bowden’s path to teaching was carefully planned. “I always wanted to be in teaching… (It was) the impact you have on children’s lives – it’s a positive career. But that didn’t happen in my case.”
At the age of 18, she began three years of primary school education. However, during her first visit to school, her dream began to crumble: she would come to work at 7 a.m. and leave at 6 p.m., and when she returned home she would have to plan her lessons. The work was new, overwhelming, and difficult to break away from.
In 2020, she started teaching full-time at a primary school in Lancashire, where she lives, and saw no improvement. “At first you feel this excitement – you live on adrenaline. However, within the first few weeks I discovered that I was really struggling: mainly with my behaviour, the amount of work I had to do and the fact that I felt like I didn’t have time to teach because there were so many other things to do, such as security, planning and responsibility . I was mainly involved in social work, not as a teacher.
“I was so exhausted that I lost my social life,” she adds. “At that time, relationships were difficult. I was emotionally exhausted – I couldn’t find pleasure in anything. I was in survival mode.”
Sal Ashraf, 29, had a similar experience while studying medicine. She never felt the same burning passion as Lydia, but felt it was the right career: “I performed well in school, and medicine was one of the best careers you could choose.”
When she was thrust into a busy and chaotic hospital stay in her third year at Lancaster University, she began to doubt the path she had chosen. “It made me feel insecure… It really made me anxious,” Sal says. “There was this invisible pressure of getting such an important degree – which a lot of other people wanted to do – and having to be fair about it. That’s why it became your life.”
Sal failed her exams at the end of her third year and retook them in the summer. In her fourth year, she actively started looking for a way out. After visiting a careers advisor at the university, between her fourth and fifth year of medical school, she completed a Master’s degree in Business Management (an option for all medical students), which sparked her desire to learn more about the corporate world. She graduated from medical studies, completed a postgraduate internship in a company from the aviation and space industry, and in September 2023, she started her current job in the HR department in the pharmaceutical industry.
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“In this hustle culture, this ‘love your boss’ culture, it’s all about ‘building your own business, building your own success.’ Not everyone I want to do this,” says Sal. “Some people are happy with a 9-5 average, and there’s nothing wrong with that, in my opinion.”
For Lydia, a more corporate role was also an option. Since 2022, he has been working at the educational publishing house Twinkl, first as a content editor and currently as a production manager. But giving up something she had worked hard for wasn’t easy. “You feel like you’ve failed. You feel like it’s you – like you’re not strong enough. I had already thought about what my life would be like, but in the end it wasn’t. It was difficult to come to terms with it,” he says. “Even now, many people ask if I will return to teaching. They can’t understand why I wanted to leave.
Initially, the new position came with a pay cut, but, like Sal’s HR position, it offered flexible working hours, the ability to manage your own time and a healthy work-life balance. And with it came a new sense of perspective. “Within the first three months, I felt like I was coming back to myself,” says Lydia. “I waited impatiently and everything seemed fun again. I started doing things in the evenings and taking care of myself, which I had lost the ability to do while teaching.”
“I used to believe that work was your purpose – that it was important to have a job that was fulfilling and impactful,” she adds. “But if it comes at the expense of your personal life and mental health, it’s not worth it.”