Big Girl Panties Diaries – Entry #105: Lost Two Jobs. Found My Backbone.

In less than a year, I’ve lost two jobs.

I wish I could tell you I handled it with grace and gratitude. The truth? The first one flattened me. The second one woke me up.

Because once your career ghosts you twice, you stop waiting for stability — and start building it yourself.

The first time, I wrote “My Career Ghosted Me. Grief Got Me Through.” That was my rock bottom — yoga mats, tears, and the slow reminder that showing up, sweaty and shaky, still counts. That story taught me how to feel again.

For 18 years, I’d been the steady one. The fixer. The empathetic leader helping other people through change. But when it was my name on the list, all that knowledge fell out of reach.

One call — effective immediately — and I went from leading meetings to wondering who I was without a company signature. I remember getting ready for a conference the next morning, caffeine in hand, whispering, “What just happened?” And then remembering… all over again.

The world kept spinning — emails, my daughter's chronic illness, grocery runs — but I was frozen inside it. I didn’t want to celebrate the holidays. I didn’t want to make small talk. I wanted to disappear under a blanket until my heart stopped racing.

The only thing that got me moving again was hot yoga. Not because I was feeling zen or disciplined — I just needed somewhere to put the ache. That mat became my lifeline. In that heat, in that sweat, I could fall apart and come back together — one shaky warrior pose at a time. I cried through Savasana more than once and called it progress.

That season taught me that grief doesn’t just follow funerals. It follows endings we never saw coming — jobs, friendships, dreams — and it demands to be felt before it will let us heal. It taught me that strength isn’t loud. Sometimes, it’s quiet, raw, and barely holding it together.

That’s where I met myself again — stripped of the title, the pace, the armor. And from there, I started to rebuild.

Over the summer, “I Wrote the Script — Then They Used It to Let Me Go,” Part 2 of the original piece that told parts of the story I hadn't yet shared. This taught me how to speak again. Because clarity, courage, and truth-telling can make insecure people sweat — and sometimes the universe ejects you from rooms you’ve outgrown so you’ll finally build your own.

About a month later came “Rebuilding Without a Blueprint.” That chapter taught me how to trust again — how to build strategy and belonging from scratch, how to design a life that didn’t need someone else’s approval to be legitimate.

Most recently I wrote, “The Worrier Suffers Twice: Acceptance Is the Path to Peace” and how my yoga practice has taught me how to accept faster. The first time, I pre-suffered — carrying the storm before it arrived. The second time, I let the truth land. I breathed through it. Acceptance didn’t erase the sting, but it steadied me. My chest softened; my breath slowed. I stopped fighting reality — and started moving with it. That quiet shift is why I rose quicker, calmer, clearer.

And this entry? It’s about what happens after all that — when you’ve cried it out, learned the lessons, and realized you’re still standing. When you stop apologizing for falling and start honoring yourself for rising.

Because career grief is a strange kind of loss — the kind you can’t bring flowers to. It’s invisible, but it changes everything. It sneaks into your confidence, your sleep, your sense of belonging.

And I know I’m not alone. So many people are facing job loss right now — quietly, privately, often carrying shame that doesn’t belong to them. It’s one of the reasons I decided to tell my story the first time — because no one was talking about the emotional side of job loss. And when I did, the response floored me. My inbox filled with “me too.” People who whispered that they were hurting too — that they felt lost, embarrassed, unseen. That shared honesty became the heartbeat of Big Girl Panties Diaries.

Over the weekend, I took a five-mile walk with a close friend. Somewhere between the laughter and the truth-telling, she said, “I admire your resilience.” It humbled me. Because resilience doesn’t always feel like strength — sometimes it just feels like getting up again.

But maybe that’s the point. Maybe resilience isn’t about bouncing back — it’s about rebuilding, one breath and one brave boundary at a time. Maybe the universe pushes you in strange directions you never saw coming, just to prove you can still find your footing. Not where you planned. Not where you thought you belonged. But right where you’re supposed to grow next.

Transformation has been my greatest teacher. Not the polished, keynote version — the real kind. The kind that starts with a gut punch, takes away what you thought was secure, and leaves you standing in the rubble asking: Who am I now?

I’ve learned that transformation isn’t a line on a strategy slide — it’s a lived experience. It’s what happens when people are asked to let go before they know what’s next. It’s messy, human, and deeply emotional — and if you skip that part, you miss the part that actually works.

The same muscles that helped me rebuild my career are the ones that help organizations transform: Clarity. Courage. Communication. And an unwavering belief that people don’t resist change — they resist feeling unseen in it.

That’s why I do this work. Because real transformation isn’t about systems or slogans — it’s about people finding their footing in the middle of the unknown. It’s about helping teams breathe again when everything feels unstable. It’s about reminding leaders that empathy isn’t soft — it’s strategic.

And when the dust settled, I did what I’ve always done when things get hard — I put my big girl panties on. I stopped waiting for permission, and I built something of my own.

That’s why I launched Julie Whitten Consulting — partnering with leaders and organizations to communicate clearly, lead calmly, and transform confidently. Because transformation isn’t just an org chart — it’s a heartbeat. It’s the quiet courage to do the next right thing even when the plan just blew up.

And while I’m growing this work, I’m also exploring the right full-time executive opportunity — one where I can continue shaping transformation and culture from the inside. Because purpose doesn’t disappear when a job does.

When you lose everything twice and still find your footing — you realize you were never meant to cling to stability. You were meant to build it from within.

Big Girl Panties Diaries Rule #106: When the floor falls out, build your own foundation — stronger, wiser, and twice as unshakable.

If your team is navigating transformation — or if you’ve ever lost a job that also felt like losing part of yourself — you’re not alone. And if you need someone who’s walked through it and knows how to lead others through it too — let’s talk.