You can be riding high one minute and knocked flat on your ass the next. That’s the nature of life; not just unpredictable, but often indifferent to your plans, years of loyalty, or even the carefully curated image you’ve projected to the world.
I’ve seen it happen several times in the last year. A friend who worked for nearly two decades for a respected European publication just got downsized. Nineteen years of showing up, putting in the work, and being dependable were gone with a single decision.
After four years at his post-Christie job, another former work colleague was just downsized. He is one of the nicest people you could ever meet. Before he was with us at Christie Digital, I had the chance to interview him at his then-employer for a Christie installation, and he couldn’t have been a better interview. Curiously, the afternoon I was set to interview him for a Christie feature when we were both there, I was let go in a major restructuring. It would have made a great story about his naval background and business expertise, but I had to text him that I was no longer with the company and couldn’t do the feature.
These are only two of several I could put into this blog entry. It’s easy to think that if we do all the “right” things—work hard, stay loyal, buy the house, build the life—that we’re somehow shielded. That the bottom won’t fall out. But these stories, and my own, say otherwise.
I know this because I’ve been through it too. Downsized. Disoriented. Disconnected from the routine that had once defined me. You start questioning everything: your worth, your choices, your faith, and your next move. And then, after the initial shock wears off, comes the sobering realization that you must pick up the pieces and move forward, and it’s not always the direction you think it will be.
But here’s what I’ve noticed. When life strips away your titles, your salary, your comfort zone, it also gives you something: clarity. It may take a long time, longer than you initially thought, to reach this point, but you do. It’s a hard-won, battle-scarred, emotional rollercoaster of clarity, sure, but clarity nonetheless. You begin to see what matters, not just what looks good on LinkedIn or gets Likes on Facebook.
You remember how to live lean and how to walk with humility. You remember that your value isn’t tethered to your job title, your square footage, or what kind of car you drive, and you remember that you’re not the only one going through it. Everyone is carrying pain of one sort or another.
A strange sort of fellowship forms between people who’ve had the rug pulled out from under them. Whether you were let go after 19 years or four or lived modestly or in a larger place, the common thread is the reminder that we’re all vulnerable—and that none of this is permanent.
So what do you do? You reach out. You send the text of support because you understand and have been there. And maybe, just maybe, you take what you’re learning and build something better. Not necessarily bigger. But better. And what do you become, battle scars and all? You become more grounded and more resilient.
Life will flip again and again because it goes in cycles. You will have some great years and some years where you feel you are stuck in the mud or worse, sinking in the mud. But remember that people do care about you, and while they may not always be able to help, they are thinking of you and pulling for you.
John Berkovich Talks 