Brighter and Shinier After Getting Fired

I’m less employed but more myself.

I made a joke early on in my pottery journey, as I explained glazing to a friend. “They will be brighter and shinier after getting fired! … Ha, the same could be said about myself”

Anyway, I knew that had to be the title of this post.

It’s been one year since I got laid off. For the third time. And this was the layoff that I think changed me the most. My first layoff shook me to my core. This one shook everything loose that wasn’t my core. 

This time, I didn’t panic, didn’t spiral, didn’t scramble, didn’t doomscroll job boards or scattershot my resume at the internet. (Ok, maybe a tiny bit, but I caught myself before I fell into the abyss. Is this… growth?)

Instead, I did the opposite. I slowed down and gave myself grace. And I let that shit go.

I thanked the universe — truly, genuinely — for forcing me out of a toxic relationship I’d been trying to “fix” with grit and over-functioning. I knew that job was draining my soul and was not the best situation, but it wasn’t until I was severed from it that I realized how horrible it was. I had never worked harder at a job, I had never given a job more of not just my time and energy, but myself. And for what? To treat me like trash to be discarded, which they eventually did.

Hindsight is 20/20. A cliche for a reason, as it turns out.

Then I got a little… spiritual? Not (entirely) in a woo-woo way, but in an “accept what I cannot change” way. Getting laid off became a blessing in disguise for me — and I say that with deep awareness that this isn’t true for everyone.

What I didn’t know at the time was that 2025 would become my year — a whole year! — of rest and rediscovery.

I started asking different questions. Not “What’s next?” or “How do I fix this?” but “Who am I without a job title?” and “What do I actually like to do when no one is watching?” So I began to rediscover myself — not by reinventing, but by remembering.

A list of what I’ve learned and tried and did, in no particular order:

• I started writing on Substack(!!!).
• I fell deeply in love with pottery.
• I partnered with an old coworker-turned-friend to start a podcast.
  I rediscovered my love of drawing (well, doodling). 
• I revisited my cookbook collection and cooked a lot of new recipes (though still fewer than I aspired to).
• I set up an LLC and learned all the annoying business things around that.
• I learned how to drive a stick shift.
• I tried my hand at gardening.
• I began learning how to taste wine and coffee with intention.
• I got a record player and now listen to full albums again.
• I nourished my relationships — with friends, family, and of course Kona, my sweet pupperoni. 
• And I learned how to be with myself without immediately turning that into productivity or feeling guilty for not doing “more”. 

None of these things made me more employable, but all of them made me more me.

Along the way, I found my voice — not my corporate voice, not my “manager ready” voice, not my “please promote me” voice. But my actual voice. Unfiltered, unoptimized, no mask. Just me.

I stopped contorting myself to fit into what I thought I was supposed to be, especially in a professional sense. I stopped optimizing. I stopped squeezing every ounce of myself into work and leaving nothing for the rest of my life.

When I zoom out, I see this clearly now: everything I did this year pointed me back to my core values.

When I read Dare to Lead by Brene Brown, I did the values exercise, the one where you’re only allowed to pick two. They’re meant to represent who you are at your best, and they don’t change depending on context. Your personal values and your work values aren’t different values. They’re just expressed differently. 

The two I landed on were curiosity and joy. And I think I nailed it. Somehow, without consciously trying, I spent the year living them.

Curiosity showed up in learning new skills, in tasting things slowly and deciding if I like them, in asking myself who I am, in wondering what my life could look like if I think outside the box. Joy showed up in making things with my hands, in meals with friends, in laughter, in choosing presence over optimization (breakfast without checking emails? Amazing!).

This year wasn’t about becoming someone new. It was about returning to the best version of myself. The version of me who leads with wonder. Who does things because they’re interesting or delightful, not because they’re useful or profitable.

Early in the year, I realized that our jobs get the best version of us. We give our energy and creativity to work in the name of passion and dedication, and our loved ones get whatever is left over. That realization stopped me cold. And even darker was recognizing that in this late-stage capitalistic hellscape, there often isn’t anything left over at all.

Today, I know who I am outside of my job. I know what fills me up. And I’m far more intentional about protecting that version of myself — for me, and for the people who actually get to share a life with me. (And that includes you, dear reader! I mean it!)

I really am brighter and shinier after getting fired.