What Losing My Job Taught Me About Life, Motherhood, and God

A note to my readers: This post is adapted from a letter I wrote to myself about what it is like to be laid off and what I’ve learned during this season. My hope is to return to it in the future so I never forget the lessons I gleaned—and to carry forward the gratitude I now feel more strongly than ever for life, love, and meaningful work.

Dear Me,

Being laid off in July was more than a little strange. While I had been expecting it for some time, the day it happened was both nightmarish and oddly exciting. Once you’ve gotten comfortable in a career, it’s easy to ignore that gut feeling that it’s time to move on. But God has a way of nudging us onto the right path, as hesitant as we may be to pursue it. Even on the day that I was let go I figured that, as scary as it was, God must have a good reason. I just needed to be patient.

There were moments when the layoff felt like a gift. Suddenly, I had space to “try on” two things that had been tugging at my heart: being a stay-at-home mom and giving full-time blogging a real shot.

Blogging full time, I quickly learned, was not as glamorous as it looks from the outside. The line between life and content blurred too easily. The pressure to constantly create, constantly share, constantly document—it drained the joy from simple moments. I realized there are countless moms already doing the influencer thing beautifully. And honestly? I’m happiest gleaning from them, not being them. There’s a quiet freedom in admiring someone else’s creativity while slipping back into your own rhythm of homemaking, motherhood, and faith.

In an age of influencers, many of us feel as though we need to be seen in order to be valued. But that simply isn’t true. For me, a mindless “like” wasn’t worth the time—or the privacy—it stole from my family in the name of a photo or a reel. I also found myself writing to please the algorithm rather than writing from the heart. Friends and family know I tire easily of consuming media because it so often feels inauthentic, and being behind the lens helped me understand why. For content to even have a chance at landing in someone’s feed or search results, you have to check certain boxes.

All of it made me realize that the kind of storytelling I value most can’t thrive in a system that rewards performance over sincerity.

As for being a full-time stay-at-home mom, I learned that—even though it was sweet and deeply intimate—it wasn’t always idyllic. I adore my daughter. Spending unhurried mornings with her, watching her tiny habits take shape, reading the same books over and over while she snuggled her beloved blanket—these will forever be some of my favorite memories. The record player spinning, the tea parties, the way her face lights up when I say, “Let’s go to the park!” or “Go pick a book!” These moments are treasures.

But I also discovered something important about myself: I craved a different type of stimulation. I thrive when I’m learning, creating, or working on something beyond the four walls of my home. And that’s okay. Loving motherhood doesn’t require being fulfilled only by motherhood.

Still, these months gave me priceless time with her—time I wouldn’t trade for anything. My prayer is that wherever work fits into my future, it becomes less a retreat from being her mom and more a healthy reprieve that makes me a better one.

Of course, there were days when the layoff felt terrifying. I interviewed more times than I can count, only to be told, “We went with another candidate.” It stung every time. There’s a unique ache in feeling like no one wants what you bring to the table, and in feeling like I was taking precious moments away from my job hunt and family, just to be dangled on a corporate string. 

But God doesn’t waste waiting seasons. Those closed doors shaped me, prepared me, even strengthened me for whatever would come next. His intentions are rarely obvious mid-chapter, but they tend to reveal themselves in hindsight.

With income tighter than usual, I found myself revisiting the fundamentals—how I spend, what I value, and what actually matters in a home. I hadn’t realized how automatic little luxuries had become. Kombucha here, a chai there, convenience grocery trips, impulse buys that once seemed harmless. Without the cushion of stability, I was confronted by how thoughtless I’d grown with small decisions that add up quickly.

There was a deeper tension too—a tug-of-war between the kind of family life I long for and the realities of what life actually requires. I wanted more time at home: time to build a warm, steady rhythm for my daughter, time to tend to the quiet parts of family life that so easily get pushed aside. But the reality of today’s world is complicated. The cost of living feels heavier. Many families are stretched thin. And the conversations my husband and I had mirrored the same worries so many couples carry.

I found myself asking hard questions:
Would I rather make a comfortable living but see my family less? Or pursue part-time work that stretches our budget but allows me to be home more?
And—perhaps the most sobering question of all—how many people my age are actually making enough to live the life they imagined?

That realization gave me a deeper empathy for low-income families. So many people are doing everything “right” and still feel like they’re running uphill. There were weeks when I tried to spend less on groceries and somehow ended up spending more. Weeks when a single unexpected expense cost more than a year’s worth of careful saving. When I had a steady income, I didn’t have to think twice about where the money would come from. But without a job, I worried. And I couldn’t help wondering how many others have been living with that same exhausting fear—not for a season, but for years.

And yet… somewhere in the middle of the worry, the exhaustion, and the uncertainty, gratitude kept pushing through. I could feel that this chapter, difficult as it was, was also reshaping me in ways I needed—humbling me, grounding me, strengthening, yet softening me, and clarifying what I truly value.

I’m stepping into the next season with more awareness. More humility. With more purpose. I don’t know exactly what the future holds, but I feel steadier now, more aligned with who I want to be as a mom, a homemaker, a woman of faith, and simply… me.

Here’s to the next chapter.

Love,
Me