The Layoff Happened. Quiet Rise Was a Choice.
My career took an unexpected turn and it gave me the space to figure out what I actually wanted.
The signs were there.
Deadlines that didn't match what we'd scoped a few months earlier. Three different bosses in the span of a year, though on paper I was still reporting to the first one. And then, at the beginning of February, my newest manager quietly paused one-on-ones for the whole team.
That was the one that told me my time there was finite.
The last week of February, on a Tuesday, a twenty-minute meeting appeared on my calendar for the next morning with a manager I didn't work with and someone from HR.
I joined the 9:30 call and was told March 15th would be my last day, that a box was coming for my laptop, and that I had two hours before my access was shut off.
I remember what I said to them when I first logged onto the call.
"I think I know what this call is about, and I know it isn't your choice. I have a feeling the two of you are going to have a significantly harder day today than I am, having to deliver this news."
Since I had my suspicions, I'd gotten my ducks in a row the night before and was able to spend those two hours saying thank you and goodbye to the people I was leaving behind.
Layoffs Are Hard
If you haven't been through a layoff: the difficulty isn't only the money or the logistics. It's that it happens to you. You can do everything right, but a decision gets made somewhere in the C Suite that eliminates your position, and there is nothing you could have done differently.
Still, somehow, it is remarkably easy to take it as a verdict on you, both as an employee and a person. It can feel like rejection, evidence that you did something wrong.
A layoff is not a reflection of you as a person or the quality of your work and contribution to the team. However, logically knowing that and feeling it are two different things. I kept reminding myself of the difference.
The Part I Don’t Always Lead With
Here's what I was less prepared to admit: I had already been unhappy for a while.
Earlier that year I noticed I was waking up on Monday and thinking, I can't wait for the weekend. Time is the most limited resource any of us has, and I was actively wishing mine away.
Then there was the Sunday Scaries. A very specific low hum of dread about what Monday was going to bring, which could be nothing crazier than a typical day at work, mind you. I'd stay up too late watching a show, which doesn't actually help anything, but it felt like staying awake kept Monday further away.
I was still working hard and contributing meaningfully to my team. But I'd started to feel like a cog in a wheel, and I couldn't shake the sense that the hours I was spending weren't focused on things that mattered to me on a personal level.
So when the layoff came, underneath everything else, there was relief. A weight came off. I could stop fighting two battles at once: the exhaustion of the work itself, and the low-grade question of what I was going to do about it.
Figuring Out What I Actually Wanted
I gave it a few weeks, completed some house projects that had been waiting a long time, and then I sat down and pointedly asked myself,'
"What do I want?"
What I came back with was short. I want:
To help people
To create something
The flexibility to work for myself
I looked hard at the last few years of work to figure out what I genuinely liked.
Solving problems alongside people
Getting to know my coworkers and building real relationships with them
Looking at a complex problem or process and finding what was actually causing it, or how it could be improved
These are skills that just weren't being utilized in a way that fulfilled me on a personal level.
What I Built
I started making digital products, mostly to work through the change I was living. That became the Transition Toolkit.
Somewhere in there, the brand found me. I kept thinking about the transitions I'd been through, and about the fact that change is the only thing besides death and taxes that's actually guaranteed. But I'm not someone who announces a change from the rooftops. I'd rather move steadily and let the outcome be what shines through.
Transformation doesn't have to be loud to be powerful. That's where Quiet Rise came from.
I thought I'd share all of it on YouTube. Then I discovered I like writing considerably more than I like editing video. So, I started writing instead, which is how we got the Quiet Rise Chronicles.
Then I took a coaching class, and less than halfway through it I knew. I can do this. This is exactly the way I want to help people.
Reflect. Adapt. Repeat. isn't just the methodology Quiet Rise is built on. It's how Quiet Rise got built.
The Distinction That Matters
The layoff happened to me. I didn't choose it and I couldn't have prevented it.
Deciding what the layoff was going to mean was a choice. Sitting down and asking what I actually wanted was a choice too. Starting Quiet Rise was also a choice.
That's the whole thing, really. Change is going to happen. What you do next is the part that's yours.
The Work I Do Now
Quiet Rise is coaching for people standing on the precipice of a transition, or already in the midst of one. Sometimes that's a career change. Sometimes it's a relationship, a health shift, or a season of life that moved without asking permission first.
I'm not going to tell you what your change should mean. That part is yours. What I will do is ask the questions that make it easier to answer, and stay with you while you work it out.
If you're sitting with something right now, there's a free discovery call on the website. No pitch and no obligation, just a conversation about what you're working through and whether coaching would actually help.
Clarity doesn't come from doing more.
It comes from understanding what actually needs to change.
A note on visuals
Some visuals are created using AI to reflect the ideas and experiences shared, rather than a specific moment.
Disclaimer
This content is based on personal experience and is intended for reflection and informational purposes only. It is not a substitute for medical, mental health, financial, or legal advice.
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