Five years ago, I sat under a tree and cried.
It was Cinco de Mayo 2020, and I woke up to an email: I was being laid off from my dream job as a global creative lead at Airbnb, one of 25% of the company being let go that morning as the pandemic hit the travel industry hard.
I walked to the park in a daze, fully masked (remember those days?), found a tree, and broke down. Around me, life went on. Kids laughed. Dogs barked. Sun filtered through branches like nothing had changed.
But for me, everything had.
Subscribe to the Daily newsletter.Fast Company’s trending stories delivered to you every day
Privacy Policy
|
Fast Company Newsletters
Layoffs surged to their highest levels since COVID-19 as of July 2025, so if you’re reading this, there’s a good chance you or someone you love has felt this sting recently, too.
First, I’m sorry that happened to you. I know how disorienting and painful job loss can be. The grief is real. The uncertainty can feel overwhelming. And the identity shake-up? That hits different.
Here’s what I also want you to know: This may be the end of one story, but it’s also the start of a new, more incredible story that you can write entirely on your own terms.
Whether you’re navigating a career transition or just hearing that quiet voice whispering “Maybe there’s something more,” I want to share two storytelling practices that helped me find my way post-layoff. They’ve since guided hundreds of my Story Coaching clients through their own turning points, too.
Choose what kind of story you want this to be
In the weeks after my layoff, I ping-ponged between anxiety (“Apply to jobs NOW!”) and grief over my lost identity and work community. But then I realized I was in a “turn-the-page” moment. I would tell this story again and again. What kind of story did I want it to be?
Psychologist Dan McAdams calls this a “narrative choice.” How we frame our experiences to build personal meaning. And these choices have real consequences. People who carry contamination narratives (stories that start good and end bad) experience higher rates of anxiety and depression. But people who frame their experiences as redemption narratives (stories that start bad but end good) report more confidence, connection to purpose, and better mental health.
In other words, his research shows that shifting our narrative predicts and precedes psychological well-being. Consciously choosing a redemption narrative will set you on the path to feeling better.
After my layoff, I told myself: “This is a story of the time I lost my job. But it’s going to be a story of the time I find myself.”
Your reflection prompt: After you’ve had your moment crying under the proverbial tree (we all need it), you have a choice. You can frame this transition as something that happened to you—that you’re a victim of circumstances who has to take whatever comes next. Or you can see this as an unexpected plot twist that becomes the catalyst for your most intentional and aligned chapter yet. The narrative you choose will determine every action you take next.
advertisement
Name your past career chapters to shape your future
Once I stopped panic-applying to jobs, I took time to ask: What do I really want to do?
I’d spent 15 years telling other people’s stories—from the Obama campaign and Airbnb to a wild summer working on a Bravo dating show—but had never explored my own.
So I cataloged my career chapters with names like “My Year of Hope and Change” and “Post-Airbnb Identity Crisis & Reset.” Patterns emerged immediately. I loved creating spaces for people to use their stories to create impact, but I seriously dreaded office politics. I thrived most when I created and shaped a role myself, but I struggled in positions with narrow job descriptions or restricted responsibilities.
This clarity gave me the confidence to start my Story Coaching business instead of returning to a more traditional role. Now I spend my days doing exactly what lights me up, which is helping individuals and teams navigate crossroads using their personal stories as a guide, all without the corporate bureaucracy that always drained me.
When we take a pause to map our experiences, we discover themes and threads we can’t see when we’re moving too fast. Your career chapters hold clues about what energizes you, what drains you, and what you’re uniquely built to do next.
I call this practice Narrative Navigation: Using your past, present, and possible stories to create a compass that transforms “what now?” into “this way forward.”
Your reflection prompt: Take some time to outline your career chapters. Give them creative names, and reflect on what you liked (or didn’t) about the work, people, and compensation. What patterns emerge about what you love, what you’ve outgrown, and where you want to go next?
If you want to dive deeper into this exercise, I’ve created a worksheet that walks you through mapping your career chapters to uncover your unique wisdom and direction.
Your story is still being written
Five years later, that moment sobbing under the tree launched my journey as an entrepreneur. The ending I feared became the best beginning. The layoff forced me to figure out who I was beyond my job title. Reflecting on my own stories helped me get clear on what I actually wanted to work toward. Now I get to witness my Story Coaching clients having similar breakthroughs every day, work that feels infinitely more meaningful than anything I did in corporate life.
Now it’s your turn. Pause. Reflect. Choose the narrative that serves you. Trust that everything you’ve lived has prepared you for what’s coming. When you’re ready, don’t forget to share your story. You never know who needs to hear it or what doors it might open.
Your next chapter is waiting around the corner . . .