Rebuilding a career, and her sense of self

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When I first reached out to today’s profile subject, Maya Kurien, I was planning to do something a little different for The Reignition Project. I asked if I could republish one of her Substack essays here, because it spoke so clearly to a theme I’ve been wanting to explore: what happens to your sense of identity when you’ve defined yourself by your career – and that career suddenly disappears.

But when Maya and I got on a call, the conversation told such a richer story, I decided to publish that, too.

Maya spent years in public affairs advocating for small businesses, expanding childcare access, and supporting policies that helped bring affordable housing and economic development to communities across New York. When she was unexpectedly laid off in 2025, she found herself questioning everything she thought she knew about her career – and herself.

From my perspective, it appeared she moved seamlessly into consulting – as the founder and principal of Main Street Wisdom, she has a steady client base in the same industry, doing work she’s passionate about. But as she told me, the internal transition has been much less straightforward.

Here, we talked about layoffs, reluctant entrepreneurship, and how much “what do you do?” can define us.

Absolutely. I describe public affairs as the art of connecting different disciplines: PR and communications, government affairs, and day-to-day operations. Public affairs makes sure those pieces align into a cohesive story and move the organization’s priorities forward.

I was in the government space for almost a decade, then moved into an industry association, so government-adjacent work. Overall, I’d been in government or government-adjacent roles for about a decade.

The perception with government jobs is stability – the paper-pushing bureaucrat who never leaves. Same with nonprofits: people assume no one gets laid off, people stay forever. I wasn’t in one of those roles, but in my mind, I was in a “safe” industry.

I really couldn’t accept it at first because it felt so contrary to the story I’d told myself my whole career.

At first, it felt like the five stages of grief: panic, anger, fight-or-flight, spiraling. I told a few key people – longtime mentors – because I wanted them to hear it from me.

I assumed I had to apply for jobs right away, but I had mentors who told me very directly: “You’re not ready. You need time to process. You’re not in a position to interview.”

One mentor – who had been laid off before – told me something that ended up being really important: start telling people you’ve been laid off. The sooner they know, the sooner they can keep an eye out for you. And it also helps you control the narrative.

That advice was especially helpful because it let me say: this happened to me, but it doesn’t define me. And it reminded me how many people valued my work. I got messages from people I wasn’t asking for anything – just letting them know – and the kindness landed at a time when I really needed it.

I took time off. I got lucky and found part-time contracts relatively quickly. I kept thinking I wanted another full-time role, but the market was so bad. Over time, I was in more demand as a freelancer than as a full-time hire.

By August I realized I needed to take the plunge and start my own firm. I never planned to run a business. I never saw myself as a founder. But I also thought: maybe being my own boss for a while could bring flexibility and space – more time for family, friends, life.

Good question. I think I’m still processing that being a business owner is my full-time job. People will ask, “Are you still looking for a full-time job?” and I’ll say yes—because in my head, I still don’t fully identify as a business owner.

I’m still accepting what my “new normal” is.

It is a clean story in many ways, but I’m still accepting that this is still my career—I’m just pivoting. I’m working through that psychologically.

I’m much better with uncertainty than I was a year ago. A year ago, I couldn’t even say “laid off” out loud. It felt like such a personal failure, which it isn’t.

Great question. I’m not sure how much it’s a story society tells about government and nonprofits, versus what I absorbed from those fields.

When I’d seen layoffs or firings in my field, it was usually tied to something obvious: department underfunding, performance issues. In my case, it wasn’t any of that. It was simply, “We’re cutting your line.”

So I think it felt like I failed because: one, I didn’t see it coming; two, it shook my sense of self. Public affairs is people-facing work - you pride yourself on judgment. So I wondered: am I missing something? Am I not good at my job?

On top of that, I didn’t know anyone in-house at a nonprofit who’d been laid off. So it felt shocking – and people responded with suspicion: “What’s the real story?” That made it harder, because I was telling the truth as I understood it.

Like many people, I defined myself by my work and what I produced. And a year later, my sense of self is stronger. The way I took it as an attack on my ego said something about how much my identity was wrapped up in work.

I’d rather talk about what I’m reading, where I went with friends, the kids in my life, volunteer commitments, family. Work is something I do, but it’s not the thing I most want to talk about.

In New York, the first question is often “What do you do?” and it can feel like a shortcut to judgment. Going through this forced me to look at how much I also lived in the “what do you do” mindset.

Yes, business development. I never thought I had that in me. Watching Shark Tank gives me deep anxiety because I’m nervous people will reject them.

Now I’ve learned: I can pitch. I can handle rejection. I can make a profit. I’ve developed thicker skin.

I’m more relaxed sending the cold email, starting a conversation, and seeing what happens. I’m proud of that.

It’s been healthy to tell myself: I can do this, and I’m going to be okay. No matter what happens, I’ll figure it out. I may not be where I want to be right now, but I have the grit to ride it out. I can honestly say I know how to build a business.

I’ve spent the past year applying, freelancing, building, grieving, reconnecting, and trying—sometimes successfully, sometimes not—to stay hopeful. I’ve written about ambition. I’ve written about community. But I haven’t really written about this: the part where you try to reconcile who you were before the layoff with the person who’s still standing after it.

• Main Street Wisdom

• Maya on Substack

• Maya on LinkedIn

• Main Street Wisdom on LinkedIn