How do you redefine yourself after job loss?
Figuring out how you see yourself during seasons of transition is hard but letting the world insist on who you are is harder.
I was excited when I got laid off. Of course, sadness, shock and anxiety reared their heads on day 1, but I felt really optimistic as I considered how my future was about to change for the better.
I could catch up on rest, finally work on my own projects, explore new career opportunities, spend more time with my family, spend more time with myself. An unexpected sense of empowerment came over me as I felt a freedom that I don’t think I’ve ever felt.
Then came my first networking event. Just a week after my last day at HuffPost, I found myself sitting at the Time Impact Dinner with executives, founders, CEOs and 25 Black innovators being honored for their work to end racial inequity. I felt good walking in the room. I was invited to be there, I knew I belonged there. I had hit a good stride. That is until my first conversation in which I let someone know I was a writer and their response was, “For whom?”
I felt a slight blow to my confidence. I suddenly felt like Tommy in “Martin.” I hadn’t considered how I would respond to that when I was giving myself a pregame pep talk. This is the first time in 10 years I don’t have a news outlet to lean on for legitimacy and I hadn’t considered how I would introduce myself to strangers.
I stammered a bit before I said, “For myself.” I hated that I didn’t say it with more confidence the first time. But you best believe that wouldn’t happen again. And it didn’t as I regained composure and let others — and myself — know who I was and what I do.
We aren’t defined by any singular thing in our lives. We know this. Yet we attach so much of our value to our work. And in a capitalistic society that often measures success by wealth and numbers rather than any other sort of impact, pressures of what you’re “supposed” to be doing in your career can mess with your head. I know that’s true for me, at least.
My therapist gave me an assignment that I feel like I should complete publicly despite how my stomach is twisting up at that thought as I type. It’s to follow the first line of Jay-Z’s “Public Service Announcement” with my own reintroduction to the world. So, “allow me to reintroduce myself…”
I’m Taryn Finley. I’m an award-winning journalist with over a decade in the game. I cover community and culture, with an emphasis on the Black experience. My relatable voice and knowledgable, empathetic approach to research makes me one of the most resonant interviewers of today. Watching me host and moderate conversations is like watching old friends catch up. I’ve generated some of the most creative ideas to charge national media brands, including HuffPost, The Root and iOne Digital, to rethink their approach to storytelling. I’m a strong collaborator, knowing when to lead and when to follow. I’ve had an indelible impact on this industry and will continue to make strides towards equity, media literacy and accessibility. I’m currently working on a newsletter called “Let’s Stay Connected,” a series on my journey to fibroid surgery, a book I’m eager to share details about at a later date, a few freelancing gigs and becoming more of me each day.
That’s just a small view into who I am now professionally. It will undoubtedly change and that’s OK. I’ll keep reintroducing myself to the world as often as I see fit.
I love this assignment because it really encourages you to talk your shit. In transitional seasons, we don’t always give ourselves credit for how we’ve grown and the wonderful things ahead. Change is constant, and if we can recontextualize the “negative” change with gratitude for who we’re becoming, we may realize just how many more good things are in store for us.
Are you in a season of transition right now? How are you redefining yourself as you move through it? I’d love to know.
I’m calling it my experimental year. Very unbothered (also stressed) 😩
Whew, this brings back memories when I first had to identify myself after two decades at one employer. I’d stumbled for weeks and finally got comfortable saying, “I’m Cori. [Insert Period]” because that was enough.