The Layoff Diaries #1: Day 0 | The First 12 Hours

On being shocked but not shocked, feeling paralyzed while also jumping into action, and forcing myself to go to the gym

Well, here we go again — another layoff.

For the third time since 2022.

I know the job market is tough, and has been since the pandemic started. I know I'm not alone, and that this is happening worldwide, across industries, regardless of skill, tenure, or anything else someone may bring to a company. I know this is par for the course in tech, especially right now. I know it's not personal, and that I'll be okay, and that there are people dealing with much more at the moment, people fighting for what really matters, and this pales in comparison.

Even though I've been here before and know all of that to be true, it still stings.

The first time I was laid off, I was relatively new to my Product career. I had a big name behind me, and was eager to continue on.

My second layoff, I was pregnant and still excited about Product work. I was eager to find a fit in the consumer app space, and I did.

This layoff has me feeling a bit out of sorts. I’ve been in Product for four years now, and I’m not sure if I want to continue as a Product Manager, pivot to something adjacent (Product Ops or a more technical role, for example), or if I want to leave it all behind entirely to pursue something else, where I work for myself in a fractional/portfolio capacity. I think writing could be part of that, and I think I could leverage my 10+ years in CX, Operations, and Product, even if loosely.

I’m not putting all my eggs in any basket right now, but I’m not narrowly focused on doing what I’ve always done, either.

I think this layoff is forcing me to say all of that out loud.

I’ve always said I like having a boss. I like knowing what I need to do and then disconnecting from work when it’s time to disconnect. I like someone else figuring out my benefits, having taxes automatically withheld, and a good 401k match.

In my mind, security is that 9-to-5, but as my personal history repeats itself, I’m wondering if this security, which doesn’t seem to be too secure at all, is worth it.

The golden handcuffs of a W2, tech job seem to be gold-plated at best these days. And I want solid gold.

I started my Substack in 2023 after my second layoff, when I was 5 months pregnant. I recommitted to my newsletter in November of 2024, when my husband went through his second layoff.

It only feels right to do something here to mark the occasion.

Introducing The Layoff Diaries — a series chronicling my movements through this post-layoff life as I figure out what’s next. It’ll be raw, it’ll be honest, it’ll be me. It will be my in-the-moment movements and thoughts, but I’ll also make sure to zoom out a bit when appropriate.

You may get an entry chronicling a full week, a series of days, or, in this case, a set of hours. They won’t all be formatted the same, but we’ll experiment together and see what works and lands (ADHD brain, need flexibility and loose guidelines so I don’t feel stifled — a lot of you get that, I know).

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Welcome to the Layoff Diaries. This was a paid series I wrote in the summer of 2025 while navigating my third layoff. It’s been a year, and I’m removing the paywall on this post for the first time since I published this.

If you are and have been a paid subscriber, thanks for being here.

If you’re not, I hope you enjoy this one, and if you want to read more I’d love if you consider a paid subscription.

If you do that, there’s no obligation to keep your subscription (though I would love for you to stick around). And if paid subscriptions aren’t your thing, you can always buy me a coffee or leave me a tip.

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Alright, thanks for bearing with the housekeeping. Without further ado, welcome to the first installment of The Layoff Diaries.

The Layoff Diaries: The First 12 Hours

Tuesday, 11:00 am | Hour 0

11:00 am

I am working at my coworking space, something I decided to treat myself to in May. I enjoy working remotely and not having to report to an office at specific times and days, but working from my home has started to get to me, especially as the weather gets nicer. Working from coffee shops also gets expensive, and they’re not a business write-off. So, I’ve been enjoying this coworking space a few days a week for the last month.

I usually pack a breakfast and/or lunch, but today I packed neither. I decide to order breakfast and settle on a burrito.

11:43 am

My breakfast burrito arrives. I thank my Dasher and return to my desk for the day. It looks good, but I immediately regret removing the potatoes. I don’t know why I did that — I think I felt like it would weigh me down and make it harder to focus.

I eat, slowly, deciding I'll finish it during my company’s bi-weekly All Hands at noon.

11:54 am

It's almost time for All Hands, so I run to the bathroom and fill my water glass. I don't have to present today, so taking the call from the open desks won't be a problem. If I were presenting, I would've stayed home or booked a room here.

11:56 am

I return from the bathroom and look at my calendar, starting to get ready to join the call. I notice the All Hands event has been removed from my calendar and has been replaced with an "Emergency Company Update".

Oh fuck, I think. My heart starts pounding, my hands shaking.

I text my coworker before checking the invite. Oh Jesus, I say.

It's bad, they reply.

I text a screenshot of the call to my husband and best friend. I go back and forth with both of them a few times.

I check the calendars of the people who would be on both the 'leavers' and 'stayers' calls.

My call is first. I know which call I am on. I check who else is on my invite, and it confirms my suspicions — this is the bad call.

Tuesday, 12:00 pm | Hour 1

12:00 pm

I join the call — it's a Zoom, and we usually use Google Meet. sus.

In the waiting room, I am greeted with a message that audio and video have been disabled for the call. sus.

12:02 pm

I am still waiting. I leave and rejoin, making sure I clicked on the right link and that I'm not missing something. I am on the correct call, it seems. I continue to wait for my fate to be handed to me. I assume they’re waiting for everyone to join.

12:06 pm

The call finally begins, with everyone's cameras off except for our CEO. He's in his car, it appears. I cross my arms and close my eyes. My suspicions have been confirmed, and myself and the others on this call have been let go from the company. I won’t cite the reasons why here.

I text my husband while the call is going on, letting him know, and shoot the same friend a text to confirm.

12:15 pm

The call is over, and I physically feel paralyzed. I open up LinkedIn.

Nope, I think.

I open Substack Notes and quickly type a sloppy, slightly incoherent Note. I need to say something to some audience, but I’m not in the mood (yet) for LinkedIn people to see it — I’m not in the mood for people I know to see it. Substack feels safe.

12:33 pm

I hop on a call with a coworker just to talk things out, hear what they’ve heard, share what I know, etc. I still have my systems active so it kind of feels like any old one-on-one, but also not.

12:52 pm

I get off the call with my coworker and receive a message from my boss. He has nice things to say and he offers to chat if I’d like. I decline in the moment, I’m not quite ready, I say.

12:58 pm

My husband asks how I’m feeling, via text, and I respond with idk. freaked out. He says we should meet up. I agree.

Tuesday, 1:00 - 3:00 pm | Hours 2 & 3

1:15 pm

I’m still sitting at my coworking desk, computer open but only looking at my phone. People from work are messaging and texting, and I’m working to keep up with it as much as possible.

I ask my husband if we can get a drink. He says yes.

1:23 pm

I’ve packed up my bags but am still just sitting at the desk. I can’t find the momentum to stand up and leave. I feel paralyzed — physically and emotionally. I tell my husband this, he tells me to leave.

I take a breath, stand up, and make my way back home.

1:55 pm

We arrive at a restaurant in our neighborhood and sit at the bar. We each order a beer and some food — a pale ale and breakfast sandwich for my husband, and a sour and mac and cheese for me.

I think it’s been a decade and a half since I’ve ordered mac and cheese at a restaurant. But I’m not too hungry, and figure it’ll keep well. If anything, my kid can eat it for dinner.

I also text my best friend back, who offered to come over later for dinner. I officially extend the dinner invite.

2:04 pm

Our beers arrive, and I take a selfie with my husband. I text it to a friend who lives a few blocks away and say, “Got meetings?” and “I just got laid off so 🙃”.

She calls me and we have a nice, quick chat. I tell her we’ll go on a walk in the park soon or something similar.

2:20 pm

Our food arrives, we eat, we drink. I try to stay present but I am still getting a decent amount of texts/Slack messages/etc. that I’m attending to.

2:55 pm

My husband pays and we head home.

Tuesday, 3:00 - 5:00 pm | Hours 4 & 5

3:01 pm

I get home, open another beer, and plop on the couch. I open my laptop and open LinkedIn again.

I begin to type but nothing is coming out. I rewrite the first sentence a few times, and then close the drafting window. I don’t save the draft. I quietly add the dreaded ‘Open to Work’ banner to my profile, and I add an end date to my current employment.

I throw on an episode of Ginny and Georgia, and have to restart it a few times as I’m finding it hard to pay attention.

3:29 pm

While watching Ginny and Georgia, I get an email from a freelance client about some additional work. I respond, and we set up a call the next day to chat through it. Kismet, perhaps?

4:10 pm

I receive some additional details about my layoff. I email a few clarifying questions. They are answered after some back and forth.

I open LinkedIn again and somehow get some words out. I share that I’m looking for Product work, but also let slip that I want to explore writing more. For the first time, I share my Substack with my LinkedIn audience.

4:46 pm

My husband tells me he thinks he has ‘allergies’ and that he’s tired.

4:48 pm

My husband asks me where the thermometer is.

4:56 pm

I couldn’t find the thermometer so we use our son’s ear thermometer. My husband has a temperature of 101.6. I text our friend and I cancel our dinner plans. I get ready to pick up our son from daycare.

Tuesday, 5:00 - 7:00 pm | Hours 6 & 7

5:03 pm

I head out for daycare pickup. My husband insists on coming with me, though he agrees he shouldn’t go inside. I urge him to stay home — a fever trumps the emotional paralysis. He declines and we walk together.

5:15 pm

I head up to my son’s classroom and he smiles when he sees me. We say goodbye to his friends and teachers and he smiles again when he sees his dad outside, waiting. He probably wasn’t expecting that.

5:25 pm

We’re almost home, and my son knows that we’re on the block where we would turn if we were going to the park and so he asks to go to the park.

If I can be honest right now, the park is the last place I want to go. I don’t want to interact with other kids, I don’t want to interact with other parents. I want to stare off into space and hang out with my family, and only my family.

I try to offer the backyard as an option, but it doesn’t seem like the backyard will cut it today.

I am tired, and as much as I don’t want to go to the park, I want to handle the delicate song and dance that is arguing with a toddler even less. I agree to take him to the park and tell my husband to go home.

5:28 pm

We get to the playground and my kid immediately runs to play on the ‘big kid’ equipment. There’s a group of older kids playing tag throughout the equipment. At first, I let him play but it eventually starts to look like it’s getting a bit too rough. I coax him down the slide and we walk to the toddler area together.

I say hi to a few playground parents I know but keep walking. I don’t think I came off as rude — their kids are a bit older, and they can get away with standing further back. My son happily plays in the confines of the quieter toddler area.

5:40 pm

He makes a run for it — towards the basketball courts. Sometimes, we’ll watch the big kids (and adults) play basketball, but again today I am not in the mood. I carry him back to the toddler area (after some unsuccessful redirecting). There’s light kicking, but once he sees the toddler area he happily hops down and starts playing again. Toddlers are funny.

5:55 pm

We leave the park and walk home to make it back in time for dinner.

6:01 pm

We walk in the door, my husband has started to prepare dinner for our son. He eats his dinner, we sit with him and talk about everything and nothing at the same time.

6:20 pm

Dinner is over, we spend some time with toys, on the couch, etc. The usual blur that is the time between dinner and bedtime.

6:45 pm

My husband and I tackle the bedtime routine together. We say our goodnights and leave my son’s room.

Tuesday, 7:00 pm - 12:00 am | Hours 8-12

7:01 pm

We’re not quite hungry for dinner yet — the 2 pm bar visit threw our normal schedule for a loop, but we have some leftovers we decide we’ll heat up when we’re ready to eat.

We throw on an episode of House Hunters, the current show we’re watching together. I am splitting my time between watching the show and sitting on my phone, a nasty habit but a habit nonetheless. I’m responding to comments and messages on LinkedIn and Substack. The ones on Substack, specifically, continue to roll in. It appears my earlier Note may be on its way to virality.

8:15 pm

We head into the kitchen and heat up our leftovers. We make our way back to the couch and watch some more House Hunters.

9:00 pm

My husband heads up to his office to watch some YouTube and do some work. I head up to lie in bed and watch some more Ginny and Georgia. I continue to monitor Substack and try to keep up with the comments.

10:15 pm

My husband gets into bed and says he’s freezing. I check his temperature — 102.0. He takes Tylenol, and I give him some body heat; he falls asleep.

10:30 pm

I acknowledge that I should also go to sleep but I keep watching TV. I have a flashback of my first layoff, where I spent an entire week laying on the couch, not going to bed until 1 or 2am (ah, pre-child life). I am determined to not have that happen again, but I still can’t quite get myself to go to bed on time.

I think about the day ahead of me and can’t see anything. No plans, no to dos, no tasks. The day is busy with everything I could do and silent with none of those possibilities coming out on top. I know if I don’t do something the day could slip away from me.

10:43 pm

I grab my phone and open the ClassPass app — a month ago, I signed up for the lowest-credit plan, so I could treat myself to strength training in a gym once or twice a month instead of my at-home dumbbell workouts.

I see that the sessions at 12 pm, 1 pm, and 2 pm are all only 4 credits. I take note of that and keep watching Ginny and Georgia. I’m not sure if I want to commit, but I do acknowledge that having something to do out of the house will anchor my day positively.

11:17 pm

An episode ends, and I know it’s too late to start a new one.

I go back to LinkedIn and Substack and respond to any new updates that have appeared.

I re-open the ClassPass app and I book a Gym Time slot at Crunch for 1 pm. It’s still only 4 credits.

If I don’t cancel by 1 am, I will be charged $9. I put my phone down for the night.

11:23 pm

I brush my teeth and splash water on my face. I moisturize, but that’s the extent of my skin care I feel up for.

11:30 pm

I turn out the lights and lay in bed for a bit. I am physically exhausted yet mentally wired. I go through a common meditation I do in my head — counting my breaths, backwards from 10, down to 1.

I know it’s working because I very quickly can’t get past 7 or 8 without my mind wandering. When my mind wanders, I have to start back at 10. The sooner my mind wanders, the closer I know I am to sleep.

At some point, I fall asleep. I am both completely unsure of what the day ahead of me will hold but very sure of a few things. I’ll go to the gym, even if I just check in and walk on the treadmill for 10 minutes — I need to avoid that $9 fee, after all.

With my other time? Who knows. Maybe I’ll take a walk. Maybe I’ll spend the morning writing. Maybe I’ll tackle some of the dishes in the sink I couldn’t bring myself to look at the night before.

A few things I do know — I won’t have my job, and I’ll be okay. I might not know what to do, but I’ll be okay.

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So, there we have it. The first twelve hours. The time when everything swirls and nothing is present. The shock, acceptance, anger, and grief of what was. The permission to stay grounded in the present while acknowledging the past and attempting to look ahead to the future, even when it’s incredibly blurry.

If you’ve been here before, or you’re here now, I see you, and know you see me. Again, thanks for being here <3.