🔹 This is the 5th post in my blog series,Veteran Transitions Across Borders: Bridging Civilian and Military Worlds, which explores the challenges and creative strategies shaping veteran transitions across countries and communities.
*Ray, career transitioning veteran (name changed to protect identity)
🧭 Introduction
Not every turning point is dramatic. Sometimes, it’s found in a quiet smile, a lifted voice, or a new way of seeing your past. Sometimes, the first step forward is organising a dawn service.
This is the story of Ray — a senior non-commissioned officer navigating a medical transition from their country’s Defence Force. It’s also a story of what happens when hope, identity, and purpose are rekindled — not by surface-level career advice, but by theory-informed, deeply human, creative support.
🧩 The Road to Nowhere
When Ray first came to see me, he was frustrated and disillusioned. Having been posted into an administrative role he didn’t feel qualified for (he was more than qualified and underemployed), he described himself as being “pushed to the side.” It felt like a holding pattern before an inevitable career transition — with his skills overlooked and his sense of purpose diminishing by the day.
He told me he felt “lost” after accessing another career service that left him with more questions than answers. He couldn’t imagine any use for his military skills in the civilian world. “It’s like I’m at a crossroads,” he said. Then he added something that stayed with me:
“I’m terrified that after I leave, I’ll just end up sitting in an RSL (Returned Services League) club, drowning my sorrows in glass after glass of beer.”
That fear was real. And it reflected something deeper: a constricted imagination. As Norm Amundson reminds us:
“As people lose hope, their imagination gets constricted — it becomes harder to see themselves going forward.”
Hope requires vision. And vision needs room to grow.
🔍 HAT in Action: From Reflection to Possibility
To help Ray reconnect with his sense of value and transferable strengths, I invited him to reflect on each of his military roles using four prompts — part of the self-reflection competency in Hope Action Theory:
- What challenge/s did I face?
- What action did I take to overcome the challenge/s?
- What result did I attain from the action?
- How did I feel undertaking this challenge/s and action?
When Ray returned for our second session, he shared his responses. As we unpacked them, I noticed his posture shift, his tone brighten — small signs of self-recognition returning. Then, when he described a role where he had coordinated large-scale ceremonial events for a major garrison, something clicked.
He stopped mid-sentence, looked directly at me and said:
“I really enjoyed my time doing that role.”
In that moment, Ray wasn’t just listing tasks. He was gaining self-clarity — reconnecting with a version of himself who felt competent, trusted, and proud.
We also used creative engagement strategies throughout our work — visual metaphors like stepping stones, river flow (drawing on something he felt proud of), workplace attractor sorts, and the powerful image of the crossroads that had first emerged in session one. These weren’t gimmicks. They were tools of meaning-making, helping Ray externalise, organise, and emotionally engage with his evolving story.
Together, these approaches helped Ray see his past not as a static record, but as a launchpad.
🔄 Civilian Visioning: A Two-Pronged Approach
Still awaiting surgery, Ray knew a medical transition was guaranteed. But the uncertainty of the outcome made planning feel paralysing.
So together, we designed a two-pronged approach for civilian careers — one path if the surgery allowed for greater physical capability, another if it required more adaptive or sedentary options. Grounded in familiar military strategy language, this helped Ray regain a sense of control and direction. He didn’t need certainty to plan. He needed flexibility — and a reason to plan at all.
This is the power of visioning in Hope Action Theory: helping someone imagine that a future is not only possible, but worth pursuing.
✨ The Spark Returns
What happened next made my heart sing.
By the third session, Ray was a different presence in the room. The surgery date was still uncertain, but something else had shifted. After reflecting on his past ceremonial roles, he’d taken initiative. He went to his local RSL and offered to organise next year’s ANZAC Day ceremony.
This was an act of hope. It also demonstrated the goal setting and planning competency of HAT in motion — action in the face of uncertainty.
Then he smiled and said:
“Who knows… maybe next it’s ANZAC Day at the Shrine of Remembrance. Then maybe I’ll organise events for different industries — but definitely not weddings!”
(He laughed, but this time the humour carried possibility.)
🧠 Final Reflections
Ray’s story shows what’s possible when we combine evidence-based frameworks like Hope Action Theory with deep listening, advanced coaching skills, metaphors, and creative care.
Through self-reflection, self-clarity, visioning, and goal setting, Ray moved from stuck to re-engaged. And while his physical future was still unknown, his sense of direction had returned.
The result wasn’t just a plan.
It was hope — structured, felt, and sustainable.
💬 Try This
What role did you once enjoy that made you feel purposeful?
What if you used that as a guidepost, not a memory?
🧡 Closing Words
Sometimes, the turning point isn’t dramatic.
It’s a quiet decision to organise a dawn service — and believe in what might follow.
For Ray, it was ANZAC Day.
For others, it might be mentoring, music, or managing teams.
But for all of us:
Visioning makes hope visible.
And that’s what makes my heart sing.
📌 Hashtags
#HopeInAction #VeteranTransitions #ActionOrientedHope #StrengthInTransition #CareerMetaphors #HopeActionTheory #CreativeCareerCoaching #CareerDevelopment #MilitaryToCivilian #SupportingVeteransCareerTransitionsGlobally
Jenn Barfield - Holistic Career Development Coaching 