I know what it’s like when your life stops feeling like yours.

I’m Fabienne Abi-Ad, the founder of The Rewrite. This is the part of my story that brought me here.

Fabienne Abi-Ad, founder of The Rewrite, standing in the middle of a tree-lined city street on a summer day

Home was never just one place.

I’ve lived in more than one country, and every move asked me to start again. New streets and routines, and people who didn’t know my history yet. Moving taught me I could adapt to almost anything.

It took me much longer to learn that adapting isn’t the same as choosing. Being good at fitting in meant I rarely stopped to ask whether I wanted the life I was fitting into.

I did what I was supposed to do.

I studied finance because my dad encouraged it, not because I felt called to it. Then I did what comes next. I got the job, worked hard, and waited for the next step to make it all make sense.

Over the years I changed jobs, and then I changed careers. Every promotion felt exciting for a while, until I found myself in the same rut with more on my plate. I love solving problems and building things, and I still do. That was the confusing part. I was never afraid of hard work. I was pouring my energy into a life I had never really chosen.

Then I came back, and went on autopilot.

When I moved back to the United States, I expected to feel settled. Instead I slipped into a routine that kept me moving without ever asking where I was going. Work. Responsibilities. Expectations. Repeat.

From the outside, everything looked fine. Inside, I was tired in a way sleep didn’t fix, and I couldn’t remember the last time something had genuinely excited me. There was no dramatic breaking point. The anxiety and the exhaustion crept in slowly, and so did the feeling that I didn’t quite recognize myself.

So I drew myself a map.

I’ve always thought better on paper. One evening I wrote myself in the middle of a blank page and started drawing lines out to everything that took my energy and everything that gave it back.

It got messy fast. Some lines ran straight to things I’d been avoiding. Others led to parts of me I had set aside years before. Seeing it all on one page didn’t hand me an answer, but it showed me where to look. For the first time in a long while, I could see what was going on underneath the feeling.

me, now

  • What drains me?
  • What gives me energy?
  • What am I curious about?
  • When do I feel most like myself?
The first map I drew: me in the middle, and four questions around me.

The question changed from crossed out: How do I fit in? rewritten as: What do I want?

I’ve always been the person people come to talk things through.

Long before The Rewrite had a name, I was coaching and mentoring people, sometimes formally and often just because someone asked for an hour of my time. Again and again, the person across from me was capable and doing well by every outside measure, and still quietly lost.

They didn’t need me to tell them what to do. They needed room to think out loud, and someone in their corner while they worked out what they wanted.

Why I created The Rewrite

I created The Rewrite for the moment I was stuck in: when your life looks fine, it no longer feels like yours, and you can’t yet say why.

You don’t have to blow everything up, and you don’t need the whole plan before you start. First we get curious about what’s underneath. Then you decide, on purpose, what comes next. That’s the work I do with clients in The Rewrite Method, and it’s the thinking behind The 21-Day Rewrite.

I also write.

Rooted and Restless is my Substack. It’s where I write more personally about identity, work, change, and building a life that feels like your own.

Read Rooted and Restless

Rooted and Restless, a publication by The Rewrite

If any of this sounds familiar, let’s talk.

You don’t need to know what you want yet. We can start with what feels wrong right now.

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