From Layoff to Liberation

Finding power in a multi-hyphenate truth, and asking for help

From Le Tarot Des Archétypes, by Bernard Chaumeil. Acquired in Paris.

A funny thing happens when you tell people who you are; sometimes they believe you.

Just 12 days after my layoff last year, I held a reading for my first book of poetry, Knowing. It was a magical night, full of new and old friends, a pretty dress, and me reading under the cobalt summer sky and tulip trees. My mother and brother attended from New Jersey. Dear friends who had never met one another finally connected. It was a bolt of hope during a dark time. 

After, I tacked on “poet” to my email signature and ditched my former job title. This came in handy for someone floundering in a sea of multi-hyphenate identities. I attended a journalism conference in August and spoke more about my writing life as a poet than my work in media. It was a nice reprieve.  

“I am so inspired by the way you are living your life,” said one acquaintance I had not seen since leaving the Wall Street Journal in 2019. “Can you teach me how?”

“I have no idea,” I laughed before deftly turning the conversation back to her. 

In the months that followed, many acquaintances and friends who now find themselves without work (see: the demise of journalism) have reached out asking how I am “doing so well” and wanting to hear more about my “life as a poet.” 

Perhaps they imagine the past 9 months a rapturous forest scene: me communing with the chickadees and deer, wearing muumuus and a crown of wild hair, whispering to the lilacs budding in response to welcome currents of warm breeze: “What is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life*?”

Only some of that is true.

I have kept busy. I am close to completing my memoir manuscript, joined three advisory and working boards, and launched a media and audience development consulting business last fall, crafting strategy for brands and individual thought leaders to enhance audience engagement and expand their reach. I’ve had the great joy of working with the On Being Project with Krista Tippett, (anyone who knows me well knows this is a longtime dream come true), the gratifying experience of supporting the work of BIPOC newsrooms through URL Media, and working 1-on-1 with incredible leaders who are ready to amplify their voices in this world. 

You know, just chillin’ with Bambi.

I’m not surprised that few people seem to know this. It was nice to fantasize that I chose that life and was living it with gusto, rather than feeling thrown into a blender of questioning and uncertainty. I’ve been hesitant to share for many reasons–a mix of superstition that the “good” might all go away (*throwing this in here, just in case, Mom); a strange sense that things are going too well and that I should feel ashamed of that somehow; and a more practical fear that if I celebrate this win an amazing opportunity that looks different from my life right now might not come my way. 

I’ve also felt pressure to place a stake in the ground and declare that I am now striking it out on my own as an entrepreneur (#girlboss) and said hello to my new “life after corporate.” That sounds appealing, but I don’t know what the future will bring, maybe even the right corporate and 9-to-5 role. 

Instead, I am practicing loving detachment from the outcome, pouring myself full-heartedly into what is in front of me, building a new future while being open to what may come. What that looks like is saying yes to new things, saying no to old things, making plans for the future, knowing full well that the future may never come and that those things I desire may not actually be what is best for me in the long run. The only way to know is to take a step toward them and see how it feels. 

When I commit to that experience, letting go of that incessant striving for control and replacing it with acceptance of uncertainty, all sorts of magic appears—an unlikely project appearing from someone I’ve wanted to work with for a long time; a call with a friend’s friend unveils all of the people and passion we have in common; or I toss aside a vexing essay I’ve been working on for months and a new and better one flows in its place. I live my life in a state of flow. I can breathe. And that is me: poet-author-writer-audience expert-mentor-advisor-consiglierre-artist-executive-sister-daughter-wife-woman-New Yorker-friend-lover of the forest-humanist-seminary dropout-seeker-knower. 

That aspiration to live life on life’s terms allows me to generate momentum and peace, even if sometimes I experience the deep well of disappointment when things don’t go the way I would have liked them to. In the end, I know I am in my integrity, showing up for myself and for life as it appears, and that might just be enough. 

There is another kernel of fear I’d like to shine some light on. Maybe I haven’t shared what I am doing out of fear that nobody will respond. What happens if you throw a party and nobody shows up? The business of starting a business means vulnerably putting myself out there and advocating for my worth. For someone writing a memoir all about the reclamation of self-worth, this is rich! 

In moments like these, I've learned to ask for help. Acknowledge the fear, name it, and thank that tiny voice of terror inside trying its best to shield me, to keep me safe. Thank you, Tiny Voice of Terror, it's okay—I'm stepping into the world anyway, taking the risk.

So here's my ask: Would you please take a peek at my revamped website, specifically where I speak about my media work in this world? If you read it and think there's someone who could benefit from my skills, expertise, and multi-hyphenate approach to this world, please introduce us.

As the kids say, my DMs are open (you can also email). In exchange for your gift of grace, I promise to keep pushing through my fear and keep you updated on this journey and chapter in my career. And if you want to talk about how to do the same for yourself, I am here too. We can navigate it together. 

We can’t do it alone.  

*Thanks to

Jessica Kantrowitz

who wrote a great essay on how we often misconstrue the true meaning of the Mary Oliver poem, “The Summer Day.”

The Wheel, The Star, The Ace (Kitten) of Swords. From Le Tarot Chats Mystiques, one of my favorite decks, from Paris, bien sûr. Created by Lunaea Weatherstone, illustrations by Mickie Mueller.