Rediscovering joy and stability in a new career journey can be challenging—yet incredibly rewarding. Here’s how I found balance after a life-changing transition.
Embracing the Emotional Journey
“I regret to inform you that you are impacted by the recent restructuring…”
Those are the words no one ever wants to hear. Being abruptly let go after a 25-year career isn’t just a professional disruption—it’s a deeply emotional experience. For me, it cracked open memories of profound personal loss: the sudden death of my brother when I was 15, and years later, the slow goodbye of my stepmom—my second mom—after her ALS diagnosis.
Those moments taught me that life can change in an instant. That on an ordinary day, with no warning, everything you’ve carefully built can be shaken by forces beyond your control.
After the call, I broke down. I’m not someone who cries or angers easily, but this brought me to my knees. And that’s a natural response to any kind of loss—the shock, the fear of losing everything, the quiet whisper of failure creeping in.
But I’ve walked through grief before. Over the years, I’ve built a set of tools that help me find my way back—back to center, back to peace. I took stock of my life. I reminded myself of what’s still whole. My daughter is thriving. My parents are healthy. I’m surrounded by love.
In that reflection, I was reminded again: life is more than titles and timelines. It’s found in the stillness of ordinary moments, in the warmth of connection, and in the parts of ourselves that live beyond the résumé.
Rediscovering My Passions and Strengths
Once the initial fog began to lift, I asked myself—what do I actually love doing? Not what I’ve always done, not what others expect of me, but what truly lights me up.
I realized I’ve always had a thing for organizing—whether it’s planning trips, pulling together offsites, or helping people connect around a shared goal. I love creating meaningful experiences and watching things come to life from behind the scenes.
And then there’s my empathy. For the longest time, I thought of it as just part of who I am. But now I see it as a strength—it’s what helps me build trust, support others, and lead in a way that feels human.
Taking the time to reconnect with these parts of myself reminded me that I still have so much to offer—and that moving forward doesn’t mean starting from scratch. It means starting from me.
Designing a New Routine That Grounds You
I’ve always thrived on structure—give me a calendar, a checklist, a plan, and I’m in my element. So when that structure disappeared overnight, I felt completely unmoored.
But I’ve learned that routines don’t have to be rigid to be grounding. Even soft rhythms can offer stability. I started small: morning walks with my dog, dedicated blocks of time for market research, space for reflection—nothing elaborate, just intentional.
I also had to redefine what “productive” looked like. It wasn’t the packed schedule I was used to—and that’s okay. Some days were slower, more introspective—but that didn’t make them any less valuable. I was still showing up. I was still moving forward.
These new habits didn’t just fill time—they helped me feel like myself again.
Setting Boundaries to Protect My Peace
When everything shifts, protecting your peace isn’t a luxury—it’s a necessity. I gave myself permission to grieve, to rest, to feel the waves as they came. Some days were heavy. Others felt strangely quiet. But I knew I needed space to process it all.
One of the best things I did was cut out the noise. Less doom-scrolling. LinkedIn had become a carousel of former colleagues sharing their layoff stories—which only fed my anxiety. Fewer “shoulds.” I stopped letting those spirals hijack my energy and instead focused on what felt nourishing.
For me, that was sunshine and connection—time in Florida with family and friends, walks outdoors, meaningful conversations, and slow mornings. It didn’t fix everything, but it gave me space to breathe again.
Setting those emotional boundaries created room to heal, reflect, and begin imagining what could come next.
Leaning on Support and Building New Bridges
If there’s one thing this experience reminded me, it’s that we’re not meant to do hard things alone. I’m incredibly grateful for the friends and former teammates who showed up—not just with encouragement, but with honesty, perspective, and fresh ideas.
They reminded me of my strengths when I forgot them. They helped me dream a little bigger while I was still dusting myself off.
Your network—whether it’s deep-rooted or newly forming—can truly be a lifeline. Reach out. Reconnect. Be open. Sometimes the next opportunity doesn’t come from a job board—it comes from a real conversation with someone who sees your potential, even when you’re still finding your footing.
A New Chapter, On Your Terms
Balancing work and life after a big career shift isn’t about having it all figured out. It’s about giving yourself some grace while you find your footing again. For me, that’s meant letting go of perfection, leaning into the unknown, and finding joy in the little things I used to overlook.
This next chapter may be uncharted, but it’s also full of possibility—and honestly, that’s where the magic happens.
One of the most exciting things to come out of all this? I started something new: Jade & Oak, a retreat and wellness business focused on helping people slow down, reconnect with themselves, and find clarity—just like I’ve been learning to do.
If we’ve worked together in the past, or if this story resonates with you in any way, I’d love to hear from you. Whether you’re going through a transition, want to learn more about what I’m building, or just feel like catching up—don’t be a stranger. Let’s connect.