thank god i got fired

When I told my best friends I’d just been fired, Jenna and Meghan showed up with wine and McDonald’s. I sat there ugly-crying, trying to explain: apparently there’s something called a “probationary period,” which basically means you can be fired without cause. Jenna had a blunt response.

“I actually don’t feel bad for you,” she said. “This is great.”

I’d never been let go before. I ping-ponged between laughing and sobbing for the next 24 hours. Before I could process what was happening, my mom had already booked me a flight to Seattle. I spent the weekend with my sisters on the same Oregon beach where they filmed The Goonies—one of my late grandma’s favorite movies.

For months I’ve been telling anyone who’d listen—my friends, my family, my therapist—that I was past burnt out. The pressure to constantly break news, land scoops, and churn out the stories everyone would be talking about was crushing. That constant fear of not being enough had hollowed me out. And when it all collapsed, the people I love rushed in like a SWAT team, reminding me of what actually matters.

Will I ever get to do what I love and still have space for the people I love?

Well, the universe weighed in. I’m unemployed for the first time since I was a teenager. I’m sitting in a parking lot, watching my sisters race each other across the asphalt. For the first time in years, I can breathe.

I don’t know what’s next, and that’s kind of the point. For now, I’m going to do what I love most: write about whatever the fuck I want.

As Jenna said, this is actually great! Though I'm still waiting for my mind to catch up with reality. For now, if you'd like to subscribe (again), I'll be writing here.