💀 RIP to my corporate email (and my sanity)

What's in this issue:

• How to navigate the emotional tsunami of getting laid off

• Practical tips for embracing discomfort when your world shifts overnight

• My week of panic, applications, and unexpected grace

The real talk: Sometimes the rest you've been needing comes in the most unwelcome package.

Hey ,

Well, this isn't the newsletter I planned to write for July. But then again, I don't think any of us plan to get that dreaded calendar invite titled "Team Update" on a random Tuesday morning, verdad?

Two weeks ago, I got laid off from Google after 9 years. Nine. Years. And let me tell you, no amount of career advice or "things happen for a reason" mantras prepares you for the gut punch of seeing "Role Elimination" in official company letterhead.

Embracing the Discomfort When Everything Shifts Overnight

When life decides to shake up your entire world without asking permission, here's what I'm learning about getting through it:

• Let yourself feel ALL of it: Don't rush to the silver lining or the "everything happens for a reason" narrative. I spent three days crying, and I mean ugly, wailing tears. My partner made sure I never cried alone, and that made all the difference. The grief of losing your identity and routine is real, friend.

• Do one productive thing per day: Even when I felt too sad to update my resume or apply for external jobs, I made sure to get dressed and leave the house for at least one activity. Some days it was just walking to get the mail. Other days I managed a coffee run. But I could always say I did something for me and our home.

• Reframe the story you're telling yourself: Instead of "I was let go after 9 years of service," I'm practicing "I had the privilege to work at this company for 9 years." It's a small shift, but it helps me feel less like a victim and more like someone who had an incredible experience that's now ending.

• Ask for help (and be specific): My friends didn't just say "let me know if you need anything." They texted multiple times throughout the week, sent food to make sure I was eating, and one even came over just to sit with me and distract me. When you're ready, tell people exactly what you need - whether it's resume reviews, network connections, or just someone to listen.

• Protect your energy from toxic positivity: The people who immediately jumped to "this is a blessing in disguise" or "now you can pursue your dreams" weren't helpful in week one. The friends who said "this sucks and I'm here for you" - those were my people.

Recuerda: There's no timeline for processing something like this. Let it be messy for as long as you need.

takes another deep breath

Getting laid off while you're already dealing with health stuff? The universe really said "let's test this girl's resilience," didn't it?

On June 24th (yep, the day I shared with you I have a brain tumor), I got the official notice that I had 60 days to find another internal role or I'd be formally terminated (with a generous severance package, pero still). The waves of anxiety, panic, dread, and overwhelm hit me harder than I expected.

I spent days frantically reading everything I could about next steps for my finances and health insurance. I submitted endless applications trying to stay at Google because honestly, starting over somewhere else while navigating brain tumor treatments felt impossible. The thought of explaining my medical situation to a new employer, learning new systems, proving myself all over again... it was too much.

But here's what I'm most proud of: I was brave enough to ask my friends for help. Really ask. I had them review my resume, connect me to their networks, and most importantly, just check in on me when I was too sad to lean on myself. My partner held my hand through every wave of emotion, and my parents called every single day to make sure I was okay.

The wild part? On July 2nd, I found out I was selected as the final candidate for a new internal role in People Operations - same company, different team. It's not official until I get the offer letter (hopefully this week), but for the first time in over a week, I could breathe again.

Now I'm in this weird limbo space. Assuming everything moves quickly, I won't be able to start until the last week of July. I've lost access to my corporate benefits, trainings, building access - all the things that made up my daily routine. It's forced time off that I didn't choose, which feels so different from the rest I've been craving since my tumor diagnosis.

You know how I mentioned wanting rest to process my feelings about my health? Well, this wasn't how I imagined it happening. Rest usually means I get to choose some time away to relax or decompress. This feels more like being in suspended animation - not quite unemployed, not quite employed, still processing emotions while trying to figure out what rest even means when it's forced on you.

I keep thinking about how I want to use this time. It's my birthday month! Maybe a mini road trip, some spa time, definitely some disconnecting. But honestly, until I have that signed offer letter, there's still this low-level stress humming in the background.

Here's what I'm learning though: sometimes the universe forces your hand toward the thing you needed but were too scared or busy to choose for yourself. I've been putting myself last for way too long, especially since my diagnosis. Maybe this unexpected break is exactly what my brain and body need, even if it came wrapped in the world's most stressful package.

P.S. I'm still processing all of this, and I know I'll have more insights to share as I navigate whatever comes next. Thank you for being a community where I can show up messy and uncertain. It means everything.

_{¿Qué dijo? / What did she say?}
Recuerda - remember
Pero - but
verdad - right/true