The Day I Lost My Job—and Found My Story
The Day Everything Changed
Five years ago today, I sat under a tree and cried.
I had just been laid off from my dream job at Airbnb. It was May 5, 2020. The world was shutting down. The travel industry was collapsing. And 25% of the company—including me—was let go.
After reading the email, I walked to the park near my apartment in a daze, fully masked (remember those days?). I found a tree, leaned against it, and broke down.
Around me, life went on. Kids laughed on the swings. Dogs barked. The sun filtered through the branches like nothing had changed.
But everything had.
The Identity I Lost
For six years, I was a Global Creative Lead. I traveled the world, helped tell stories that uplifted small businesses and communities, and worked with a team I deeply admired. I loved that job. I believed in the mission. I poured my heart into it.
And suddenly, it was gone.
So there I was: sobbing under a tree, stripped of a title I thought defined me. And then, something unexpected happened.
The Shift
I realized I was IN a story.
Not a metaphor. A real one.
This wasn’t the end—it was a plot point. A catalyst moment. The kind you look back on and say, "That’s where everything started to shift."
And I knew—even then—that one day I'd look back on this moment, and I’d tell this story.
(I mean, hello, here I am five years later, telling it to you now.)
And in that realization, I felt a flicker of agency.
The Choice
I couldn’t change what had happened. But I could choose how I made meaning of it.
Would this be the story of sitting on my couch crying for months, waiting for a new job to find me?
Or the story of the time I finally got clear on what I most loved to do—and got intentional about making that happen?
So that day, leaning against that tree, wiping tears from my eyes, I made a decision:
This wasn't just going to be the story of the time I lost my job—it was going to be the story of the time I found myself.
The Turning Point
The months that followed weren’t neat or graceful. There were more tears. Plenty of couch days. A lot of questioning.
But I kept coming back to one thing: my stories.
Past ones that revealed what I truly loved—and what I wanted less of in the next chapter.
Present ones that helped me recognize the story I was in and the opportunities already around me.
Future ones that propelled me forward with purpose and vision for where I most want to go next.
Those stories became my compass. 🧭
They helped me stop spiraling and start shaping.
✨ They helped me find clarity, confidence, and ultimately—my calling. ✨
The Path Forward
Today, I’m five years into a path I didn’t expect but would never undo.
As a Story Coach, I now help others turn their turning points into something meaningful. I work with individuals and teams to reclaim authorship over the narratives that shape their work and their lives.
This Moment is Yours, Too
And this milestone? It’s not just about me.
Because the truth is: the last five years have changed everyone.
Maybe you’ve gone through a layoff of your own. Or a breakup. Or a breakdown. Maybe you’re standing at the edge of something new, or still untangling what’s been lost. Maybe you haven’t had the chance to fully pause and reflect on the story you have lived since the world turned upside down.
So today, I want to turn this moment back to you.
📖 You are in a story right now.
And the most powerful thing you can do is pause long enough to see it.
Zoom out.
Name the chapter.
Decide what kind of story you want it to become.
Your Turn to Reflect
To help you do that, I created a free reflection tool: What’s Your Pandemic Story?
It’s a simple worksheet with 5 prompts designed to help you:
Look back on the past five years with compassion
Identify the moments that changed you
Discover the deeper narrative underneath it all
Whether you feel stuck, in transition, or just ready to honor how far you’ve come—this is for you.
A Story Still Unfolding
Because your story matters. And the future you’re creating starts with the story you choose to tell.
Especially on days like this—my five-year layoff-aversary—when I’m reminded that one unexpected ending can open the door to an entirely new chapter.
I never could’ve predicted the path I’m on now. But I wouldn’t trade it.
So if you’re sitting in your own moment of upheaval, uncertainty, or quiet reckoning—know this:
The chapter you’re in right now? It matters.
And what comes next is still being written.
Pick up the proverbial pen. Begin again.
I’m cheering you on!
