“When I Was Let Go, I Fell and Rose—Learnt to evolve and grow.”

An honest reflection on how career rejection shaped my resilience and inner growth.

When COVID started , I never thought it would brutally destroy by career. That day, the day the earth tilted on its axis beneath me,began with the familiar comfort of a coffee mug warming my hands as I got into a physical meeting with my Manager . The words he spoke, fell like stones :"The organization is restructuring. We no longer have a role that fits your profile." Initially, there was only shock, then the crushing realization: they were letting me go.

Thirty years of relentless dedication. Thirty years of continuous learning and hard work. For twenty-two of those years, I had been a senior decision-maker in every company I served. A woman professional whose inbox once pulsed with the seductive whispers of opportunity—30%, 50%, even 70% salary increases dangled like glittering prizes, tempting me to abandon ship. But I had stayed. Foolishly, perhaps, I had clung to the antiquated notion that loyalty held weight, that it was a currency the world still valued.

And then… the deafening silence.

After being retrenched, I sent application after application into the void. The response? Nothing. Even recruiters who initially contacted me—finding my profile suitable for roles—disappeared when they discovered my seniority and age. Ageism ruled the recruitment landscape with a cruel hand. Most companies, navigating their own financial crises, weren't hiring senior professionals.

With that understanding, I even decided to take up a job with much lower salary. However, even that didn’t help. The very companies that had once courted me with fervent intensity now scrolled past my applications as if I were invisible. When they did deign to respond, the words were cold, impersonal pronouncements: ”Unfortunately, we will not be moving forward." That’s how my willingness to accept lower salary couldn’t budge the firmly locked doors of employment.

I wasn’t just rejected; I was erased. My years of experience, once my greatest asset, now branded me an "expensive relic," a ghost haunting the corridors of a past no one cared to revisit.

One night, after reading yet another rejection email, I collapsed onto the cold tile of my bedroom floor. Through tears, I looked toward the small shrine in my pooja room and whispered: "What is happening? Why am I going through this experience? What have I done that You are punishing me like this?"

The answer I received wasn't a thunderclap of revelation but a gentle stirring, a whisper between the frantic beats of my heart:

"This isn’t punishment. It’s preparation."

For the first time, truly the first time, I saw the distorted lens through which I had viewed my life. I was sincere, hardworking, focused on my career with the growth intent. But I had painstakingly constructed my identity on the shifting sands of applause and performance reviews – on external markers that could, and did, vanish overnight.

I had equated achievement with inherent worth, chased fleeting titles as if they were lifelines, and craved external validation with the desperate hunger for oxygen.

But had I ever, in the quiet solitude of my own being, truly felt enough?

But beneath the wreckage, something ancient and resilient stirred.

Me. Just me. Stripped bare.

Not the impressive title that once preceded my name.

Not the comforting weight of a substantial pay check.

Not the symbolic power of the corner office.

Just me – whole in my brokenness, stubbornly resilient, and quietly, profoundly enough.

I began with the smallest of anchors. Each morning, I deliberately sought out and wrote down three fragile gifts: the unexpected warmth of the sun kissing my skin, the aroma of the flowers in the garden, the sound of my daughter’s laughter echoing through the quiet house. These are all definitely tiny sources of joy but I cherished that in order to overcome my depression.

From that day till date, I am still applying for jobs. Yes, am still receiving those impersonal rejections .But they no longer pierce me with the same agonizing force.

Because now, deep within, I know a truth that cannot be revoked: my value is not a commodity to be determined by someone else’s fleeting needs or arbitrary acceptance.

While weathering this storm, I remembered words from Elizabeth Edwards, my mentor and an author of resilience: "She stood in the storm, and when the wind did not blow her way, she adjusted her sails." These words became the mantra of my life.

I decided to evaluate,  correct, evolve and transform myself without feeling depressed or disappointed due to rejections. Now, when door slams shut, I no longer crumble in the hallway.

I pause, allowing the sting to register, but not to consume.

I breathe, a conscious act of self-preservation.

I remember the woman I am, the strength forged in the crucible of loss.

This brutal journey has mercilessly stripped away the brittle layers of my ego, but in doing so, it has revealed the unshakeable core of my essence.

Life is still going through a struggle, but I have unwavering faith that things will improve and my life will get back on track. When good days come back again in my life,– I will greet it with a quiet humility, not a desperate hunger. With heartfelt gratitude, not a grasping need. With a gentle grace, not the gnawing weight of guilt.

Because sometimes, the shattering of everything we thought we were is the divine’s own way of transforming us and getting us ready for the newly changed world.

Have you, too, walked through your own personal storm?

Share your story below. Let your vulnerability be a beacon.

Because your words, your raw truth, might be the unexpected light someone else is desperately searching for in their own darkness.

And together, in the shared space of our human experience, we rise –

At www.rainbowpath.life, where the sharp edges of shared pain soften into the gentle contours of shared purpose, and where we remember, with unwavering clarity, that sometimes, losing absolutely everything is the only way we can finally find what truly matters.