Big Girl Panties Diaries — Entry #85 - (Career Grief: Part 3) Rebuilding Without a Blueprint (and Learning to Trust Again)
One of the most common questions I get asked from former colleagues is: “So… how is life on the other side?”
My default answer is a cheerful, “It’s great!” (because no one wants a five-minute TED Talk at the grocery store). But if I’m being real, the truth is more layered.
Starting over in a new place without a blueprint isn’t exactly easy. The institutional knowledge, the shortcuts, the deep-rooted relationships I’d built over nearly two decades? Gone in a single day—along with the sense of security and loyalty I thought would never wobble. If you want the backstory, I wrote about that first heartbreak here: My Career Ghosted Me. Grief Got Me Through (Entry #7) and the plot twist here: I Wrote the Script—Then They Used It to Let Me Go (Entry #65).
That kind of ending rewires you.
Now I find myself more guarded with my trust. Not because my new colleagues aren’t wonderful, but because of how my story ended before. Once you’ve been blindsided, you don’t hand over blind loyalty so easily again. My gut is louder now (see Trust Your Gut (Before She Quits on You!) Entry #31), and the guardrails I’ve built are intentional (see The Fortress I Built (And Why It’s Coming Down) Entry #33). I’m choosier about where my energy goes—and who’s earned a front-row seat.
And the friendships? That’s a grief no one warns you about. At my old company, it was Cheers—you walked in and everybody knew your name. Now? Some days it feels like standing on the playground waiting to be picked for kickball. Not first. Not second. Just… waiting. Belonging is a moving target (see Why Nobody Warned Us Friendship Would Get Complicated Entry #75), and how you show up in new rooms matters long before anyone knows your résumé (see What Your Energy Says When You’re Not Speaking Entry #55).
Here’s the quiet, unglamorous part: even without a blueprint, instinct kicks in. I know how to build strategy. I know how to map the value of my work. Right now, I’m laying those foundations—teaching colleagues what this work is, why it matters, and what resources it takes to do it well. They’re seeing it for the first time, and I’m rebuilding credibility brick by brick. On the days I forget, I go back to basics: What Happens When You Forget Your Worth (Entry #83) and Professional Me Is My PR Team—Meet the Real Me (Entry #38).
It’s slower. It’s lonelier. And yet—it’s also freeing. I’m not replacing what I lost; I’m expanding into what’s next (prelude to Freedom Looks Good on Me Entry #56). I’m protecting margin so the new thing can actually breathe (Creating Margin: The Space I Didn’t Know I Desperately Needed Entry #64). And I’m giving myself permission to be squarely in the in-between (The Messy Middle Is Where the Magic (and Meltdowns) Happen Entry #59).
Big Girl Panties Rule: When you don’t inherit a blueprint, you get to design the house yourself—guardrails, foundations, and all.
Turns out, I’ve basically been live-blogging my career grief this whole time. Who knew? (Apparently my subconscious had a content plan before I did.)