Dear Friend,

Strangely enough, the day I was laid off was one of the most peaceful days I can remember.

I was in a hotel room in Amsterdam, overlooking one of the city’s many canals. Boats glided by from every corner of the world, cars and bikes passed, and endless tourists filed out of buses to go see the city.

I sat still, watching the world move.

I was about to hop on a call with my manager to both get up-to-speed and, more importantly, hear an updated offer for a raise. Before I left for vacation, they’d made one that didn’t feel right, and I’d been told we’d revisit it when I got back.

So the only question on my mind was how much higher it might go.

As I checked my camera before joining, I felt joy. The sun was lighting my face and the white walls behind me perfectly. Not too bright, not too dark. Just right. The inside and outside of my life seemed to sync.

Then: “We’re letting you go.”

I nodded, asked the right questions. The part of me that wanted to panic stayed quiet (for the moment).

On the one hand was shock and fear. I’d had this grand plan to save up a bunch of money over the summer as I lived more cheaply than in New York City. That was thrown to the wind, and in its stead came the Great Unknown.

Where will my next paycheck come from? When? What in the world do I do with myself in the meantime?

I was also hurt. The whiplash from being told that I was doing a great job and going to get a raise to being laid off was hard to grapple with. And it forced me, for the second time in 3 months, to confront an age-old fear: the fear of abandonment.

Some part of me has always been braced for it, even nowthe email, the call, the moment: You’re fired.

And not just that, but:

You’re taking advantage of us.

For years, no matter how well I perform and no matter how much praise I receive, there’s a voice that says: none of it’s true. You’re taking advantage. You can’t keep up the illusion much longer.

There’s this underlying belief that I’m somehow fooling people who pay me into thinking I’m performing, even when I’m not.

So part of me sees what just happened as proof. See? Even when they praise you, you can’t trust it.

But the wonderful surprise is that it’s not the loudest voice anymore. There’s another one, softer, yet even more powerful, saying, It’s not you.

This voice has been a welcome new friend, as I’ve been laid off twice since Marchfirst by my only remaining freelance client of nearly five years, and now by my full-time employer.

And in both cases, more than anything, I’ve felt freed. I felt freed when my client ended our contract to focus entirely on my full-time gig, and now I feel freed from that to find the next, even more exciting and fulfilling project to dedicate myself to.

Of course, the fear’s still here. The one about running out of money, about my qualifications for the gig I really want, in being judged for asking for help. There’s still a dark, suffocating force that jumps at every chance to shroud my feelings of optimism and excitement in blackness.

But it’s losing the fight.

It’s a constant practice to hear the voice, name it, and transcend it, but it’s getting easier each time. Now the challenge is holding fear and excitement at onceto give it my all, and trust it’ll work out, even if not the way I imagined.

Easier said than done!

For now, I’ve got my running shoes and the quiet trails of southern France. That’s helping.

I hope all is well with you.
With love,
Ryan