Short, honest notes on job hunting, CVs, and working life. The long version of what I post on LinkedIn, and a running record of how the last few months actually went.
My first job felt like family, and I quietly believed I'd grow old there. What loving my work taught me, and the only thing that can ever make me leave.
My Own North StarA venture in my name won an award in nine months, then became a betrayal. What breaks in you when trust is broken all at once, and how you slowly get your capacity to begin again back.
My Own North StarAfter betrayal, a role in a CEO office put me in front of hundreds of people and their life stories. How listening, and being useful, quietly thawed the part of me that had gone cold.
My Own North StarAfter detaching from love, then from work as home, I stopped building for others and started building for myself. On self-growth as a flywheel, being connected to everything but attached to nothing, and holding no expectations, only hope.
Monday-Friday LifeWhat changes once you stop seeing your manager as an obstacle, and start understanding what they're actually carrying, because collaboration starts with understanding, not chemistry.
CV ConfessionsWhat a recruiter actually sees first, the audit I now run on every CV, and the three things that survive the six seconds.
CV ConfessionsNobody opens a CV on a desktop anymore. Why I redesigned mine for the screen people actually read it on.
Job Hunt DiariesJob searching in private is lonely. What changed when I stopped hiding it.
Job Hunt DiariesThe question that still makes me sweat, and the structure I use so ninety seconds actually lands.
Monday-Friday LifeThe meeting that could've been an email, and the three questions I now ask before scheduling anything.
Monday-Friday LifeIt doesn't announce itself. The small signs I explained away, and what finally made me stop.
Notes to My Younger SelfI used to think asking for help was weakness. A DMAIC project quietly proved me wrong.
I had nothing worth fighting dirty for, and that was oddly freeing once I let myself see it.
The Graceful ExitLosing that quietly, piece by piece, was its own kind of grief I didn't expect to feel.
The Graceful ExitI wrote it down so I'd have a clear record for myself of what was actually true.
The Graceful ExitLetting that go took longer than the situation itself did.
The Graceful ExitI chose the quieter version instead. I still think that was the right call.
The Graceful ExitIt's handing over everything cleanly, asking for the time you need, and not needing the last word.
The Graceful ExitI didn't know how much I'd adapted to a bad fit until I stepped into a better one.
The Graceful ExitI wouldn't choose to repeat that season. But I don't think I'd have the judgment I have now without it.
The Graceful ExitProtecting my peace doesn't require a defense.
The Graceful ExitGrateful for what it taught me, and honest that it hurt more than I let on. Neither one cancels the other out.
The Graceful ExitA skill I didn't know I had, built under pressure I wouldn't choose again.
There was a stretch where I was present every day and absent from most of it at the same time.
What the Body KnewMy body had other plans, and it eventually got loud enough that I couldn't ignore it anymore.
What the Body KnewIt wasn't dramatic. It was just the moment my body finally forced me to pay attention.
What the Body KnewI'm proud of that discipline. I'm also learning that showing up in pieces isn't something to aim for.
What the Body KnewI wanted the closing chapter to be mine to write, not something that just happened to me.
What the Body KnewFinishing well, even quietly, even when nobody's keeping score, still counts.
What the Body KnewI used to think strength meant never cracking. I know now it means what you choose to do in the days after.
What the Body KnewIt was never weakness. It was information I ignored for too long.
What the Body KnewShe didn't need to be tougher. She needed someone, including herself, to say it was okay to stop.
What the Body KnewClosing something well matters just as much as how you handled it while you were in it.
What the Body KnewNobody asked me to explain. They just checked in.
I found out how much of it was tied to convenience, not to me.
The Empty TableNobody says it out loud. You just notice the seat is always open now.
The Empty TableI can't control what gets said. I can only control staying someone I'd defend.
The Empty TableIt stung less than I expected. It just confirmed a decision I'd already made inside.
The Empty TableI didn't want to make anyone else's day harder just because mine already was.
The Empty TableHearing you're irreplaceable feels good for about a day.
The Empty TableBeing needed means the work falls apart without you. Being valued means someone notices the cost.
The Empty TableSomewhere along the way I mistook staying calm and capable for being responsible for everyone else's outcomes too.
The Empty TableI stayed because I wanted to finish it in a way I'd be able to look back on.
The Empty TableI don't regret the restraint. I just wish someone had told me it has a cost too.
The Empty TableThe lunch table emptied. One or two people never left it.
The Empty TableThe calls to my parents, over and over, and the unconditional support that steadied me.
The Empty TableMy parents told me to resign. I chose to stay and finish what I'd started.
The Empty TableNobody would have blamed me for the bare minimum. I didn't want that to be my last mark on it.
The Empty TableThe confirmation arrived in the most anticlimactic way possible. It meant everything anyway.
The Empty TableI had a choice about what version of myself I brought through the door. I chose the present, not the story.
For a long time, my job was never really written down anywhere. What that kind of work actually costs, and what it taught me about being seen.
The First CracksA meeting, an accusation I didn't see coming, and what I learned about answering too quickly.
The First CracksThe specific sting of being questioned in the same room where someone else is protected, and what it taught me about reading a room.
The First CracksNobody gave me a new title. Just more of everything, one gap at a time.
The First CracksEveryone else logged off. I didn't. Looking back, I wonder who that was actually helping.
The First CracksIt was meant as a compliment. I remember feeling smaller, not proud.
The First CracksKnowing that doesn't make it hurt less in the moment. It changes what you do with it afterward.
The First CracksI didn't have language for that at the time. I do now, and I don't think it needs an explanation.
The First CracksLong before I had words for what was happening, my body already knew.
The First CracksThe decision doesn't arrive as a dramatic moment. It arrives quietly.
The First CracksIt took an outside voice to see clearly what I couldn't see from inside it.
The First CracksBy accident, I heard exactly what people I trusted were planning. It was devastating and clarifying at once.
The First CracksPiece by piece, my role was hollowed out until nothing substantive was left. What I held onto instead.
The First CracksA rumor built to be cruel, and why I refused to spend my energy chasing it down.
The First CracksA meeting happened about my own project, and I wasn't in the room for it.
The First CracksBefore I ever found the recording, my body already knew something was wrong.
One ordinary call, and then it wasn't ordinary anymore.
Before It BrokeYou can't defend a position you didn't know you were supposed to hold.
Before It BrokeThe same room, two very different weights given to two very different people.
Before It BrokeI fixed it quietly. I never fully learned what led to it.
Before It BrokeBeing correct doesn't always come with company.
Before It BrokeThe moment ends quickly. What it does to trust lasts much longer.
Before It BrokeI hadn't told anyone yet. Somehow, they already knew.
Before It BrokeJust because someone outranks you doesn't mean they saw it clearly.
Before It BrokeNot a dramatic declaration. Just a small, private decision that stuck.
Before It BrokeIt changed what I paid attention to, in every room, from then on.
Before It BrokeA quiet request I wasn't willing to help with, and everything that traced back to that one no.
Before It BrokeNothing happened right away. That was the strange part. What a room sounds like once a line has been drawn.
Before It BrokeWord travels in ways nobody officially sends it. Watching people quietly decide where they stood.
Before It BrokeA second request arrived, smaller, softer, dressed up as something new. It wasn't.
Before It BrokeI could feel something building. The choice I made about whether to prepare for it out loud.
Being somewhere new means being useful before you're understood.
Finding My FootingNobody hands you the actual manual. You find it out sentence by sentence.
Finding My FootingSometimes it takes someone else saying it out loud before you can even consider it might be true.
Finding My FootingThe feeling comes first. The vocabulary for it comes much later.
Finding My FootingBeing seen, even briefly, changes how heavy something feels to carry.
Finding My FootingI didn't know I could learn like that until I had no choice but to try.
Finding My FootingNot motivation. Something closer to permission.
Finding My FootingThere's a version of adjusting that costs you your edges. I got close to that version once.
Finding My FootingIt's rarely one big moment. It's a small, quiet mismatch you explain away at first.
Finding My FootingI gave the role my full effort. I owed myself an honest read of whether it deserved it.
Sitting across from person after person, delivering the same hard news with the same amount of care each time.
The HandoverThe paperwork, the reassurance, the logistics. None of it glamorous, all of it necessary.
The HandoverI kept saying "just until this settles." The settling took much longer than I expected.
The HandoverStaying steady for other people, again and again, has its own cost.
The HandoverHolding someone else's fear without making it about you takes real practice.
The HandoverI'll never know exactly how much smoother it was because of the care put in. I know it was.
The HandoverIt's not a title anyone gives you. It's a skill you only notice you have once you're in the middle of using it.
The HandoverNot every kind of excellent work gets applause. Some of it just gets done right, silently.
The HandoverBeing the fixed point in a season where nothing else felt fixed.
The HandoverThe exhaustion didn't show itself until the moment I was finally allowed to stop.