Before the Corner Turned

One day, I think I'm going to write a book about my 2024–2026.

I'll write about moving to a new city for a new role, full of expectation and excitement—and being laid off a year and a half later alongside my entire team.

I'll write about what happens when six months of searching becomes a year, and a year becomes longer than you ever imagined.

About making it to final-round interviews and walking away certain that you connected, that your experience translated, that this might finally be the one—only to eventually hear, "We've decided to move forward with another candidate."

I'll write about starting a consulting business because waiting for someone else to say yes wasn't enough.

And I'll tell the truth about entrepreneurship, too.

The incredible clients. The meaningful work. The months when business was strong and I was reminded just how much I love helping organizations solve problems, develop leaders and create impact.

And the quiet months. The very quiet months.

There are clients I've worked with over these last few years who probably have no idea what their "yes" meant to me. They thought they were hiring a consultant. They were also, unknowingly, helping me keep going. And I'm so grateful for every organization and person who trusted me with their work during this chapter.

I'll write about the people who showed up personally, too. The friends and family whose generosity, encouragement and belief carried me through moments when my own resources—and sometimes my optimism—were running low.

I'll write about what it feels like to be accomplished, experienced, educated and capable and still find yourself in a season that makes you question everything you thought those things guaranteed.

An what’s wild to think about right now is…I don't know how the book ends yet.

I haven't turned the corner.

I'm still living this chapter.

I have an idea of how I'd like it to end: meaningful work that feels made for me, a thriving business alongside it, multiple streams of income, and eventually enough abundance to create something that helps other people survive seasons like this one.

Maybe that's a foundation. Maybe it's something I haven't imagined yet.

I don't know.

What I do know is that this season has taught me that a person's value and a person's circumstances are not the same thing.

A rejection doesn't erase experience.

A quiet month doesn't invalidate a business.

Needing help doesn't negate everything you've accomplished.

And an unfinished story isn't an unsuccessful one.

So maybe one day I'll write the book from the other side of this.

But today, I'm writing this from the middle.

And perhaps there's value in telling that part of the story, too.