Reimagining My Future

When Silence Became My Starting Point

Have you ever faced a moment that shattered your sense of direction—when everything you worked so hard for disappeared without warning?

I have. And that moment changed everything.

Welcome to Kioki Reimagine.

I’m Karen Waleska—and for over a decade, I poured my energy into helping healthcare systems thrive through training, technical writing, and leadership—much of it through my work with Epic Systems.. I was the go-to. The problem solver. The one who made sure everything worked.

Then, one quiet afternoon in January 2025, it all ended with a single remote meeting. No goodbye. No thank you. No plan.

This is the story of what happened next—and how I turned that silence into a new beginning.

A few days after being fired. Santa Barbara held the silence I couldn’t explain—and a smile that meant: I’m still here.

This blog is a space for reinvention, reflection, and radical self-honesty—especially for those of us who have been quietly holding everything together. If you’ve lost your job, your sense of purpose, or your voice along the way... I want you to know you're not alone.

It all began with a moment I never saw coming.

It Was a Wednesday Afternoon

It was January 15, 2025. A last-minute Teams meeting popped up on my calendar. No subject line. No heads-up. Just a blank space inviting dread. At 2:30 p.m., I logged in. The camera was on. There were two people on the other end.The voice was scripted. Cold. Robotic. There was no discussion—just a decision. A policy. No goodbye.

I was fired.

Fired-remotely. Shock? Yes. Rage? Absolutely. But she's still standing. Still stunning. Still rewriting the story.

"Have you ever had a moment you didn’t realize would change everything—until it was already over?"

When Everything Goes Silent

I didn’t even cry right away.

I went silent.

In that moment, I became unrecognizable to myself. I had always been the strong one—the fixer, the problem solver, the mentor, the performer. I was a high-achieving trainer with years of experience helping others navigate complex systems. And yet, I had no idea how to navigate my own pain. I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t even say the words: “I got fired.”

The weight of workplace struggles can feel overwhelming, but fortitude begins with acknowledging the struggle.

"What does your silence usually mean? Is it peace—or is it pain without a name yet?"

This Is What Grief Looks Like

Grief isn’t always loud. Sometimes, it’s just the quiet unraveling of who you thought you were.

They don’t tell you this part.

They don’t tell you that being fired can feel like being erased.

They don’t tell you that your worth will try to hide behind your job title.

They don’t tell you that silence can be loud.

It took me weeks to stop flinching when someone said my name.

It took me months to say “I was fired” without shame.

It may take years to explain how deep that wound goes—but today, I know this:

It was grief.

And like all grief, it deserved to be felt.

Feel it. Name it. Honor it. You are not alone.

"Have you ever mourned something no one could see—but that you felt in your bones?"

A Walk with Mimi Changed Everything

The day I was fired, my rescue dog Mimi nudged me toward the door.

She didn’t speak. She didn’t need to. Mimi just looked at me—like she knew I was unraveling, and she was holding the thread.

I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to see the sky or feel the wind or pretend that I had somewhere to be.

But Mimi insisted.

And so, we walked.

In silence. In pain. In something I couldn’t name yet.

That walk didn’t fix anything—but it helped me remember that I still had a body.

That I was still here.

That maybe, somehow, this wasn’t the end.

"What (or who) has gently pulled you back to yourself—when you didn’t even know you were missing?"

📥 You’re Not Broken. You’re Editing.

If you’re navigating the silence after being fired or burned out, you don’t have to start over alone.

I created 🐾 Walk & Reflect: A Mimi Companion for Gentle Momentum—a free, one-page guided journal to help you process what happened, honor what you’ve carried, and begin rebuilding with empathy, clarity, and breath.

👉 [Click here to download the free reflection prompts.]

I Didn’t Lose Myself—But I Had to Rewrite Her

Slowly, with Mimi by my side, I started writing again.

Not resumes. Not applications.

Just reflections. Prompts. Honest truths that had been buried under performance and people-pleasing.

"You let it out, honey. Put it in the book." - Mean Girls, Obviously. Because journaling through rage is a form of emotional couture.

I realized I had been living in survival mode for so long, I forgot what healing mode felt like.

So, I created my own:

Editing Mode.

It’s how I healed. It’s how I rebuilt. And it’s how I help others now.

"What parts of yourself have you outgrown—even if they once felt essential to your survival?"

How I Reimagined My Future

What began as grief became grace.

From my journaling and recovery came digital products, blog posts, and the foundation for Kioki Reimagine—a space where I help others reset their lives after loss using tools based on design thinking and emotional clarity.

This is the desk that helped me rebuild. Not just my brand—but my belief in myself. 🌸 Blooming, one blog and one breath at a time.

I didn’t expect to build a brand.

I didn’t expect to feel free.

But this is what happens when you give yourself permission to reset.

"What might become possible if you gave yourself permission to reset—on your own terms?"

If You’re Here, You Belong

If you’ve ever:

• Been fired without warning

• Lost your identity to your job

• Silently unraveled to protect everyone else

• Hidden your pain behind performance

• Wondered if it was too late to begin again

Let this be your invitation to breathe.

We’d love to hear from you.

This space was built for stories like yours—stories of resilience, reinvention, and rising after the fall.

🌿 Join our community by sharing your own journey, reflections, or breakthroughs in the comments—or email us at hola@kiokireimagine.com.

Your voice matters here. Your story could be the spark someone else needs to begin again.