Healing After Being Fired: How Silence Became My Starting Point
- Karen Waleska
- Apr 22
- 2 min read
Updated: 6 days ago
Have you ever had a moment that shattered your sense of direction—when everything you’d built suddenly disappeared without warning? I have. And that moment changed everything.
The Day Everything Went Quiet
It was January 15, 2025—a Wednesday.
A last-minute Teams meeting appeared on my calendar. No subject line. No warning. Just a blank invite that felt heavier than it should have.
At 2:30 p.m., I logged in. Two faces. A script.
No thank-you. No plan. No humanity.
Just a decision.
I was fired. Remotely.
In that silence, I became unrecognizable to myself. For years I’d been the fixer—the problem solver—the calm in other people’s chaos.
And suddenly, I was the one who couldn’t breathe.
When the Silence Feels Heavy
No one warns you how loud silence can get.
Grief isn’t always loud—it’s the slow unraveling of who you thought you were.
For weeks, I couldn’t say the words “I was fired.”
For months, I flinched every time someone asked, “How’s work?”
But something deeper was happening underneath the fear: I was learning to listen again.
A Few Days Later: Santa Barbara
A few days after being fired, I went on a family trip I had already planned — Santa Barbara, our way of welcoming the new year.
I didn’t realize it then, but that trip became the first moment I truly exhaled.
Somewhere between the ocean air and my boys’ laughter, I felt life moving again — steady, simple, still mine.
Santa Barbara didn’t fix everything.
It just reminded me that clarity often begins in the quiet moments you didn’t plan to be meaningful.
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.
We walked.
In silence.
In confusion.
But with each step, something softened.
That walk didn’t fix anything—but it reminded me that motion heals.
Sometimes clarity doesn’t shout; it whispers.
Rebuilding from the Desk of a New Life
Weeks later, I opened my laptop—same desk, same chair—but a completely different intention.
I wasn’t updating my résumé.
I was writing to myself.
Slowly, Kioki Reimagine was born.
A space where healing meets design.
A reminder that we can rebuild—not with perfection, but with presence.
📥 You’re Not Broken. You’re Editing.
I created 🐾 Walk & Reflect: A Mimi Companion for Gentle Momentum — a free, one-page guided journal designed to help you:
Process what happened
Honor what you’ve carried
Begin rebuilding with empathy, clarity, and breath
💌 Join the Clarity Letter
Monthly notes on creative resets, emotional growth, and the tools that help you rebuild in real time.
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