This week marks one year since the Friday afternoon that Cory called me and told me he had lost his job.
It was a gorgeous Friday in June, and I had just put Jack down for a nap. I vividly remember feeling relaxed. Calm. I was about four months pregnant with Oliver, and I felt like I was finally getting over the vicious first trimester. I was about to lay down and “rest my eyes” when the phone rang and it was Cory.
I just lost my job.
It took a minute to process, honestly. This wasn’t something we were preparing for by any stretch of the imagination. Cory was supremely unhappy and stressed, but we were the product of the Golden Handcuffs. Sure, we were miserable, but he was making a ton of money, so there was nothing we
could would do about it.
No one ever wants to get that call from their spouse, and as a pregnant stay-at-home-mom, I felt like I had just gotten the wind knocked out of me. I sobbed for the majority of that afternoon and had every worst case scenario swirling through my (already highly emotional) brain.
We would have wanted to be in the driver’s seat when he exited that job (rather than feeling like we were being thrown from a moving vehicle), but after the initial shock and sobs wore off, we both genuinely felt relieved. There was an instant switch within Cory, and he was walking around like the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders.
It was the first time in almost two years that we were able to look at each other and finally admit how miserable that situation had been. Yeah, we were concerned about tons of life logistics, but we also felt like we had just been given the gift of being able to completely redesign our life.
We knew we wanted to be happy. We wanted family time to be a top priority. We wanted to move to a different part of town. We wanted to call the shots.
So that’s what we did.
We didn’t jump on the first job that was offered to Cory, and I didn’t go applying for jobs willy nilly. We talked a ton and we explored countless opportunities and possibilities.
It was exhausting. We often disagreed. We were anxious about different things. But we were laser focused on our ideal life.
So after a summer of togetherness, conversation, facing fears and checking egos, Cory started a financial planning practice in the fall; and exactly four weeks after Oliver was born, I started my business with Rodan + Fields.
For me, Rodan + Fields came about for a few reasons. Financially, I wanted to contribute something. I thought “if I could make an extra $500 a month, that would be life changing.” If I could eventually do that, I’d be able to cover our groceries for the month, and probably my gas.
But more than that, I wanted something for me. Something outside of raising children. I enjoy entrepreneurial endeavors, and I wanted to remind myself that I’m a badass.
Here’s the thing: I didn’t want to do direct sales. I’d failed at it twice before, actually. I’m not a sales person; and if I’m being completely honest, my ego was in the way. I was concerned about what other people would think of me. I was worried people would think I was annoying. I thought I was above it.
But then I came back to reality and realized that within six months, my husband had lost his cushy job, I was knee deep in raising two kids under two, and I had zero fucks left to give. I was going to go for it, and damn it, I was going to succeed.
A year ago, I thought our lives were over. I was terrified, we were financially paralyzed, and I didn’t know how we’d bounce back.
It was so fitting that yesterday was my fifth payday with Rodan + Fields and that a performance based Tiffany’s necklace from the company arrived on my doorstep as well. In January, I wanted to help buy groceries. In February, I made more than double what I had originally set out to make, and now, I’m earning more money than my previous 9-5 salary.
I don’t say that to gloat. I’m saying it because I got over my damn self and lept so far outside of my comfort zone to do something big. I’m saying this because I know there are people who read this blog who want the same thing, and I know you know I don’t bullshit. If you want to play big, I’m the person you want to do this with.
Like when I write about anxiety or postpartum depression, my goal is to help just one person. If one person reaches out to me and says they want me to help them change their life, I’ll consider it an honor and a success. This has been an unbelieveable vehicle for change for me and my family, and it’s fun. God, it’s fun.
So, happy Fired Anniversary to us. I’m beyond thankful it happened, and I’m eternally grateful we decided it was time to live life by our design.