Why It’s So Hard to Leave the UN—And How to Do It Anyway

Many people join the UN or large INGOs to make a difference—to serve, to build peace, to change lives. The mission is what draws us in.

Over time, and especially as we become more senior, it can get harder to connect the dots between the work and its original purpose. The system shapes everything: where we live, how we move, how we think about career and security. And even when the benefits are generous, the cost can be quiet—burnout, distance from ageing parents, or the sense that purpose has faded into process.

I’ve seen so many colleagues wrestle with this—the quiet question of whether what once felt like purpose has turned into a kind of inertia.

Why Leaving Feels So Difficult

Leaving isn’t easy. Our lifestyles evolve around the system—international schools, frequent travel, rental subsidies, and domestic support—all anchored to a UN income.

The titles, the blue passport, and the diplomatic circles become part of who we are. Walking away can feel like disappearing.

There are also real rewards. Many of us have raised our children across continents, giving them a global perspective, languages, and friendships that span the world. Years of an expatriate lifestyle have often allowed us to build financial security and savings—something not everyone enjoys. These are profound advantages, and acknowledging them doesn’t make the decision to leave any simpler.

For many who have spent their entire careers within the UN, the idea of functioning in another sector—with its different cultures, languages, and expectations—can feel daunting. It’s not just about learning new systems, but about redefining how we show up and contribute outside the framework that has shaped us for so long.

When You Catch Yourself Wondering What Else Is Possible

You may notice that you’re staying more from fear than from fulfillment. And yet, every so often, a small thought drifts in—a different kind of life, a slower rhythm, work that feels closer to who you are now. Maybe it’s a place you dream of living, a business idea, or the wish to do something with your own hands again.

But almost as soon as those ideas appear, fear moves in—the fear of losing security, of starting over, of stepping outside the identity you’ve carried for so long. So you tuck those thoughts away and return to what’s familiar.

Still, they keep surfacing—reminders that part of you is already looking for something new. Recognizing these moments doesn’t mean you need to quit tomorrow; it simply means you’ve outgrown the story that stability equals purpose.

Finding a Way Forward

The way forward starts with redefining success on your own terms. Ask yourself: If the benefits and titles disappeared, what kind of work would still feel meaningful?

Then, look honestly at your situation. After years in international service, many of us have already built the financial foundation to make a change. The question isn’t whether you can afford to leave—it’s whether you can afford to keep ignoring what you’ve outgrown.

Even within the restrictions of the system—where holding another paid job or formal role isn’t allowed—there are still ways to explore new directions. You can test ideas safely through learning, volunteering, mentoring, or side projects that build skills and confidence. These small steps create bridges between where you are and where you might want to go, without crossing any professional boundaries.

And most importantly, reclaim your identity. Your worth isn’t your grade level or benefits—it’s your judgment, perspective, and resilience. Those travel anywhere.

Stepping Into What’s Next

Leaving the UN can feel disorienting at first—the loss of structure, the change in status, the unfamiliarity of self-employment or smaller teams. But that space can also be expansive. It’s where many rediscover the sense of agency and purpose that first drew them to this work.

The decision to leave isn’t about walking away from service—it’s about choosing a new way to contribute, one that feels more aligned with who you’ve become.

If you’ve been thinking about what comes next, take it as a sign to start exploring—not because you’ve failed, but because you’ve grown.