Untethered
A 10-year career at Treehugger recently came to an abrupt end.
Almost two weeks ago, I got laid off from my job as a senior editor at Treehugger. I was one of 274 people who got cut that day, and it was a strange feeling. To go from having a job in the morning to being told at noon that I'd be done by the end of the day—computer locked, work email deleted, Slack channel inaccessible—was a mental and emotional whirlwind, especially since I'd worked for the site for 10 years.
I woke up the following morning at 5:30, like always, and lay in bed feeling utterly disoriented. There was nowhere to be, no job calling my name, no newsletter to approve and send off to hundreds of thousands of subscribers, no articles to edit and fact-check and schedule, no writers to contact about deadlines, no headlines to tweak for maximum impact, no Zoom meetings to attend with my team... because there was no team. Nearly everyone had been cut.
I wandered around the house that day (and the next) in a daze. Sometimes I cried. I lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. I went for a few walks and cried some more. I canceled plans with friends because I didn't trust myself not to start bawling yet again. It was almost embarrassing how emotional I felt; it made me realize how defined by my job I'd become. After years of being a stay-at-home mom, my ability to earn an income was an enormous source of pride. I disliked the feeling of regression, of going back to being financially dependent on my husband (at least temporarily).
As the days passed, however, I noticed a shift in my feelings. Beneath the sense of loss and worry at not having a job, I started to feel faint stirrings of excitement. One friend exclaimed enthusiastically, "You've been freed!" I didn't quite see it the same way, but his message made sense—that suddenly I'd been released from an obligation (though unwillingly) and had no choice but to move forward, upward, toward something new. It was a tiny bit thrilling. I've always loved a challenge.
I gave myself a few days to mourn, and then started my job hunt last Monday. It's been only 9 days, with dozens of applications submitted to a range of roles and several helpful conversations with friends and a couple interesting Zoom interviews that hold promise. I don't yet know what direction my career is going to take—everything's up in the air—but it's been reassuring to sense that my skills as a writer and editor are in demand, that people do need this, that my credentials are sound.
I've taken a great deal of solace in my book coming out this summer. "Childhood Unplugged" has been an entirely personal project, but I'd be lying if I didn't admit it was also somewhat a strategic professional move. When you're in the business of digital media, a website is your working portfolio, but it can disappear in the blink of an eye. (I experienced this somewhat when a third of my 3,000+ articles on Treehugger were culled after its acquisition by Dotdash Meredith in 2020.) A book, by contrast, is tangible evidence of writing abilities that outlasts a website. In the wake of my layoff, the book's presence reminds me of the value in pursuing "pet" projects that may seem like time-wasters or pointless hobbies, but end up being tremendously important. Today, that book is one of my proudest accomplishments on my resume.
I am still unemployed, still surprised every morning when I wake up and remember what's happened, still open to whatever the world throws my way. I spend hours each day applying to jobs, hoping that something will materialize. (It has to, right, if I send enough applications out into the universe?) But I'm also taking time to sleep in a bit longer, spend more time with my kids in the mornings before school, practice music with my son, go for walks along Lake Huron, and start dreaming about what my next book will be.
People say kind things. As one friend wrote, "Opportunity often comes disguised as loss." I know she's right. Another said, "Cats always land on their feet"—the joke being, of course, that my nickname is Kat. (I laughed at that.) Or as my mom said, "Thank goodness. You needed something new." Maybe I did. Maybe, hopefully, this will become a very good thing in the end. Maybe I’ll even be grateful for it someday.
23 years ago I worked for a company with over 220 employees that shuddered it's operations in Western NY. I worked there for a few years, but others were there much longer, some over 25 years. Many were despondent and worried about paying the bills including their mortgage. Other companies were aware of the situation and the quality of our workforce and began reaching out to the displaced workers. Many of those workers found new employment with better working conditions and higher salaries. This often happens when you're "married to the job." You don't realize the grass can be greener outside those walls. I chose a different path. I passed up on a solid good paying job to take advantage of a benefit that was available to the displaced workers. I chose college. Everything was paid in full, my tuition, books, labs, and any fees for two years so long as I was enrolled full time. And, I also received a weekly unemployment check so long as I remained in school with good grades. I took advantage of the situation and went to college year round including winter and summer classes. It truly was the best of times. I believe I was the only former employee who choose that route, but my financial situation at the time allowed it. Some people would tell me "you should have taken that job," but I did what I wanted to do because I felt that opportunity would never come my way again, and I enjoyed every minute of it.