“You have an online order”. The announcement in my inbox energises me. I flick off an email to the customer, telling him I’ve placed his order and will send his license details in my next email. Two hours later, the money is in my account. He’s received his software and our transaction is over.

The clean simplicity of this business model is exactly what I found myself longing for, some 19 years ago. My degree in Education had taken me from being a high school English teacher to creating my own business skills courses for grassroots entrepreneurs, young artists in the inner city of Johannesburg, and juvenile offenders awaiting trial.

It was rich and rewarding work, but after 10 years my energy was depleted. I was burnt out in the face of the immensity of challenges these young people grappled with daily. I longed for a business that was less emotionally charged, that involved a cleaner and quicker transaction. I racked my brain for a product I could sell that people needed.

Then a man I was seeing mentioned his brother, a successful software reseller in the UK who was looking for a local reseller of 3D design software. Would I like the opportunity?

When faced with an invitation to jump into unknown waters, I’m not one of those people you see on the cliff face, turbulent waters beneath, leaping into the air with a jubilant cry. I’m the one on the sand, dabbling my toes and squealing when a wave breaks nearby.

So, when I say “Yes” to a big change, it’s with caution and a list of Ts & Cs. Luckily, I was assured that I’d be given all the support I needed and could opt out at any time.

That jump was 19 years ago. I am now the longest-lasting reseller of this software in SA. Because it’s online, the business enabled me to move to Cape Town, work from home, and be a stay-at-home mum for our only child.

This is where the story takes a turn. Three years ago, with our son in his teens and growing in independence, my work was not as fulfilling as it had been previously.

While this software business paid my salary and allowed me to work from home in my slippers, in between walks and swims and coffees with friends, I needed something more. I missed being in a room with others, teaching them and learning alongside them.

My husband suggested I go back to high school teaching. I made enquiries and sent my CV to a local high school. When this was met with a long silence, strangely enough, I was relieved. This dead end helped me clarify what it was I wanted.

I realised I didn’t want to be back in a high school environment with teenagers, exam marking and discipline issues. I wanted to work with adults who wanted to learn.

For months I researched, sent my CV, and asked around for opportunities. My efforts were met with closed doors. But I used each dead end to keep honing my idea of what this new chapter could look like.

One morning while journaling, I remembered a dream I’d had the previous night. I had been in conversation with the principal of the youth centre where I had taught business skills and life skills in Johannesburg decades before. As I mulled over this odd dream, I remembered hearing that he had co-founded a training company, which was apparently going strong. I made contact.

Three years later, my working life is a rewarding mix of days at home selling software and days in a training room, interacting with all kinds of people – bank managers, researchers, engineers, call centre agents, government employees and more. And I love it.

This new chapter in my working life takes me to factories, boardrooms, industrial areas, and chemical labs. Inside every room are groups of interesting people with whom I share connected and life-giving moments.

Leaping into the unknown can be frightening, but if there’s a question in your heart that won’t stop looking for an answer, an inkling of something seeking expression, then put this call out into the world. The response will come. And when it’s time, you can make the leap into a new chapter.