<h1 id="16e0c66c-ddb5-4a9f-af67-6391b48dfd62" data-toc-id="16e0c66c-ddb5-4a9f-af67-6391b48dfd62" style="font-size: 32px; font-weight: 600; line-height: 1.2;">The Life I Didn't Plan - I Was Winning. Something Still Felt Off</h1>This is the first in a series about the turning points, patterns, and personal truths that shaped the life I never set out to build, but ultimately chose.<h2 id="d3f86cf2-182f-4ad9-a343-ddfe59501650" data-toc-id="d3f86cf2-182f-4ad9-a343-ddfe59501650" style="font-size: 24px; font-weight: 600; line-height: 1.2;">Growing Up Curious</h2>I’ve always been someone who needed to understand how things worked, why people believed what they did, why some things just didn’t feel right. As a child, living on Bougainville Island in Papua New Guinea shaped me in ways I didn’t fully understand until much later. Life there was full of contrasts and wonder. I remember the heat on my skin, the vivid colours of the market, the laughter of kids running barefoot through the villages. I also remember sitting quietly, watching, wondering.Even as a young child, I was struck by the differences. Some people lived in remote huts, others in towns. Some went to school like me, others didn’t. I didn’t have the words for it back then, but I was already asking why. Why was life one way for some, and completely different for others?My curiosity extended to religion, too. I was raised Catholic, shaped by my family’s traditions, but even as a kid, I started asking questions. If other people believed different things, what did that mean? Were they wrong? Were we? Those questions stayed with me. Not in a rebellious way, more in a quietly persistent one. I didn’t accept things just because they were told to me. I needed to make sense of them for myself.I wasn’t trying to stand out. I was just wired to notice things others seemed to pass by. That curiosity was about feeling something underneath the surface and wanting to understand it.<h2 id="65fc03f2-61e6-41c9-b858-adc8267b3b1d" data-toc-id="65fc03f2-61e6-41c9-b858-adc8267b3b1d" style="font-size: 24px; font-weight: 600; line-height: 1.2;">Doing What Made Sense</h2>I loved learning. I loved studying. That’s why I did so well. People often assumed it all came naturally, but it didn’t. I put in the effort because I genuinely enjoyed it. In school, I studied hard, won awards, and met every expectation set before me. There was an unspoken path, law, medicine, or science and I had what it took to follow it. Instead, I chose accounting and economics. Not because I felt called to it, but because I was good with numbers and structure. It felt logical.At university, I kept getting great results. Yet I wasn’t all study and no life. I partied hard too. I was a tequila-slamming champion, fully immersed in both sides of campus life. I often found myself straddling two worlds. That wasn’t just true at university, it started back in high school. I was friends with the academic kids, but I was equally close with those who weren’t into study at all. Some were always in trouble, always pushing boundaries. People were often surprised that those friends were just as much my people as the ones winning awards. The same pattern showed up later at university. There was the academic, focused, business-minded me. Then there was the social, tequila-slamming side. My circles didn’t always overlap, but I moved between them with ease. I belonged in both.That pattern stayed with me. I was always walking in two spaces at once, achieving what was expected, while sensing something else beneath the surface.<h2 id="8a8eec9e-60dc-4fb0-a739-71532d6d737f" data-toc-id="8a8eec9e-60dc-4fb0-a739-71532d6d737f" style="font-size: 24px; font-weight: 600; line-height: 1.2;">Seeing the Cracks</h2>When I entered the corporate world, the cracks became more obvious. I was told not to laugh too loudly. I couldn’t sit on the balcony to read because it might look like I wasn’t working. People were performing professionalism. Few seemed genuinely present. From day one, I noticed how decisions were made. Often it was less about logic or care and more about power, ego, and status.I was asked why a 24-year-old single woman had been given a job over a man. I watched talented women held back and average men promoted. I kept speaking up.Still, I delivered. By 26, I was Finance Manager overseeing seven of Australia’s airports with an all-female finance team. I worked across aviation, mining, education, technology, and banking. I led massive projects, managed millions, and became known for building teams that got results.I never wanted to build teams that just felt good. I wanted teams that performed - without sacrificing humanity. I took pride in knowing the numbers and being able to read a room. My work started to straddle two worlds: financial systems and human systems.I was obsessed with figuring out what made things work, what made people thrive, and what held them back. I studied with behavioural experts. I immersed myself in adult learning theory. I wanted to understand why adults resisted change, why transformation failed, and why most leaders didn’t actually lead.<h2 id="fbb7d340-6e10-4ed2-ae69-1c260d383d68" data-toc-id="fbb7d340-6e10-4ed2-ae69-1c260d383d68" style="font-size: 24px; font-weight: 600; line-height: 1.2;">A Flawed Model</h2>Too many leaders were applauded for delivering stirring visions and polished language, only to step back when those visions failed to materialise. When delivery fell apart, blame was pushed outward. The organisation wasn’t ready. The team didn’t get it. The culture wasn’t aligned. Accountability was rare.Some of these leaders were paid to leave with generous severance packages. Others simply moved on, often upward. There were no real consequences for the ones at the top. Meanwhile, the people left behind bore the emotional and professional weight of those failures. They were the ones who got called difficult or disengaged. They were the ones whose confidence took a hit.I saw it repeatedly. High-performing staff burned out, disillusioned, or made redundant because someone else’s big idea didn’t land. I spoke to people who once loved their jobs but now questioned whether they had anything to offer. They started to wonder if maybe they were the problem.It was poor leadership, it was damaging, and it took a toll on real people - their wellbeing, their belief in themselves, and their desire to contribute. Behind every glossy rebrand or restructuring plan, there was often a human cost no one wanted to talk about.Worse still were the leaders who followed through with damaging decisions simply because they were told to, driven by fear or a desire to stay safe. They knew the consequences. They saw the impact on their teams. Yet they continued, out of insecurity or a reluctance to speak up. Their silence added to the harm.People’s confidence was shattered. Their careers were derailed. Many left, hoping the next organisation would be different, only to find the same issues repeating themselves. I wasn’t just seeing this in the organisations I worked with. As a manager and leader in a global IT company, I saw it across our client base. The patterns were everywhere.Over time, I developed a reputation. When I left an organisation, people followed. They trusted how I led. They wanted to work in environments where honesty, performance, and care coexisted. That loyalty meant everything to me.<h2 id="8251eb46-a7ec-4b8a-b4a1-38af1f8878b6" data-toc-id="8251eb46-a7ec-4b8a-b4a1-38af1f8878b6" style="font-size: 24px; font-weight: 600; line-height: 1.2;">Walking Away</h2>After one major transformation project, I decided to take three months off. It was 2000 and after 12 years in the corproate environment I knew I needed to recharge. I had no intention of leaving the corporate world or my apartment on Sydney Harbour. I went to the Gold Coast for a break, took a three month lease on a furnished apartment by the beach. I’d always wanted to live at the beach. I assumed once my time was up I would go back to Sydney, back to work, back to the salary most people only dreamed of. Then something shifted. In that stillness, I realised I had become someone I didn’t want to be.I hadn’t crashed. I hadn’t burned out. I simply couldn’t return to a version of success that no longer fit. I didn’t want to lead in environments that rewarded performance over presence. I didn’t want to be in rooms where power mattered more than people.Letting go of that world was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I didn’t have a plan. I just knew I couldn’t keep showing up in spaces that asked me to shrink, perform, or ignore what mattered. I didn’t want to play the game better. I wanted to change the game entirely and I was loving being at the beach!.So I chose to step out.<h2 id="d9d2ab29-a8b0-40b6-b8f3-b7c76d310702" data-toc-id="d9d2ab29-a8b0-40b6-b8f3-b7c76d310702" style="font-size: 24px; font-weight: 600; line-height: 1.2;">Building Something New</h2>Walking away wasn’t easy. I left behind a career that many people dream of - senior titles, global projects, influence, and an income that most would consider more than enough. However, I no longer wanted to pay the price those roles demanded. I didn’t want to perform anymore. I didn’t want to lead in places where politics mattered more than people. I wanted my work to matter. I wanted it to be real.Leaving the corporate world wasn’t just about walking away from a job. It was about choosing who I wanted to be and how I wanted to work. I was no longer willing to spend my time in environments where people played games, chased titles, or ignored what really mattered. I wanted to work with people who cared. People who were willing to do the real work, not just the performative kind. People who were curious, committed, and open.That meant creating my own path and my own frameworks - tools that honoured both performance and people. I brought together everything I had learned and kept learning. I worked with leaders who were willing to think differently. I showed them how to navigate both the human and business systems they were responsible for. This was a combination of deep research, direct experience, and ongoing observation.Since then, I have trained, coached, or worked with hundreds of companies and thousands of managers. Before the pandemic, I was running programs internationally from India to Timor with more global work lined up over the coming years. Then COVID hit. Everything stopped.That stillness gave me space to return to something I had started years earlier. In 2014, I began deep research into why so many coaches struggled - not just to generate income, but to create meaningful impact for their clients. I interviewed hundreds of coaches and clients, mapping out where things were breaking down. The insights were clear, but life had taken me in other directions.In 2020, I picked that work back up. A colleague I trusted said, “This needs to get out there.” They were right. It wasn’t just a project. It was a body of work that deserved to be seen. I knew that getting it out there would mean partnering with people who shared my values. People who cared about results, who cared about people, and who wanted to leave things better than they found them.That research became the foundation of the <a target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" href="https://www.gabbybutton.com/blog/coaches-results-expresstm-leading-the-way-to-coaching-business-success/">Coaches Results Express Framework </a>(TM) and later, the <a target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" href="https://www.coachtrainingcampus.com/">Coach Training Campus</a>. It is about helping coaches get real results without losing their soul or buying into the hype. It is about protecting the integrity of work that matters.<h2 id="e3df658a-4396-4435-aada-312a29282b20" data-toc-id="e3df658a-4396-4435-aada-312a29282b20" style="font-size: 24px; font-weight: 600; line-height: 1.2;">The Story Hasn’t Ended</h2>That work continues. I am still asking questions. In early 2024, I began researching the impact of AI on leadership and learning. I want to make sure the future we build keeps humanity at the centre. My work has always been about seeing what others miss and making sense of what’s next.Every chapter of my journey has led to this one: working alongside leaders, coaches, and facilitators who want to make a meaningful difference. I help them think systemically, integrate strategy with soul, and navigate both the human and business realities they face.I am still exploring, still creating, and still committed to building new ways forward with those who are ready to lead with clarity, courage, and impact.<blockquote>I followed the rules and outperformed the room, yet still had to fight to be seen. In the quiet after success, I realised I had become someone I didn’t want to be. I did not burn out. I woke up and built what was missing. <a target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" href="https://www.linkedin.com/in/gabbybutton/">Gabby Button</a></blockquote>

I followed the rules, outperformed, yet had to fight to be seen. After success as Finance Manager at 26, I walked away to build something real. My leadership story.

I Was Winning. Something Still Felt Off.

The Life I Didn't Plan - I Was Winning. Something Still Felt Off

Tips, Insights, Stories, Education For Leaders, Managers, Supervisors or anyone who manages staff or contractors.

I Was Winning. Something Still Felt Off.

I Was Winning. Something Still Felt Off.

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