The Unexpected Gift of Career Death

I remember the day I realized my career was over. I’ve pivoted careers more than once, but my first love — my professional performance career as a singer and actor — was a career grief unlike any other.

From as early as I can remember, I danced, sang, and performed, working at Dunkin Donuts after school and on weekends so I had enough money for two things: gas and voice lessons. I saw myself on stages, in movies. I was careful not to go out in the sun (I had to maintain my appearance!), and I stayed in many weekends to rest my voice. I had discipline, and it started to pay off, because I’d landed my first professional gig at 17, performing at The Kennedy Center for the Clinton Inaugural Ball.

Performing was all I cared about. I did hundred of shows all over. Then my ENT told me I had vocal irritation that would require vocal rest, treatment, and rehab. Instead of rehabbing immediately upon my move to NYC like any athlete with an injury would, I self-sabotaged and fell apart.

My career was over.

Who was I? Who would I be? What other skills did I have (none, I thought)? I fell apart mentally and thought — my life is over. I just need to find a job and survive to stay in NYC. I can’t possibly get my MFA now. My dreams are over. I am nothing. No one will like me. I am no longer special, I have nothing to offer.

These were some of the thoughts I’d tell myself daily, in between crying fits and depression. It wasn’t until nearly a decade later that I really mourned the loss of myself as a performer.

So if you’re at a crossroads — leaving a role or a career you once loved — here’s what I know now:

Take the time to grieve now before what’s next. This is a loss. Process it, feel it, and bear in mind all the stages of grief. For over 20 years performing was all I wanted to do, and all I thought I was good at. Your career wasn’t just a job — it was a huge part of your identity, maybe all of it: your community, your daily rhythm, your purpose. I coped in unhealthy ways. I avoided the arts, and binge drank to numb the pain. I didn’t talk about it. I was going to bury it. It took me nearly 8 years to deal with it and hire a voice teacher to start singing again.

There are great parts to take with you. Even though my performance career ended, the skills I developed didn’t disappear. The discipline, the ability to work under pressure, the creativity, adaptability, the comfort with being vulnerable — these all became assets in my leadership career and as a coach. What you learned in your previous role isn’t wasted; it’s waiting to be applied in new ways when you’re ready to reflect on and apply them. These are formative experiences and memories.

Explore and find purpose. I stumbled into an early-stage startup out of desperation and got very lucky — I loved the work and the people. But I wish I’d been more intentional. I knew what I was good at, but never asked myself what I actually enjoyed or what motivated me. What problems do you want to solve? What causes matter to you? What are your values in this new chapter? Use this transition to dig deeper than job titles and investigate what fulfills you. The upside of not having a clear direction is that there are infinite possibilities.

Don’t go it alone. I was so ashamed when I left performance that I isolated myself from the creative community, which made everything worse. The second time around, I had support — coaches, peers, friends, my therapist — and one conversation with a mentor led me straight to coaching. Don’t cut yourself off from your people like I did. Those relationships were real and they could see my value when I couldn’t. We have blind spots during identity crises — others often see more in us than we see in ourselves, and we need them for support, to challenge us, and to listen.

Build your worth outside of work. When my performing career ended, I genuinely believed I was nothing without it, and frankly — many conversations, and job rejections quickly validated the belief I was lost and incompetent. I had to learn that my worth wasn’t dependent on my job title or achievements. Whatever the circumstances surrounding our career end, our confidence does take a hit. Career change is ripe ground for negative spiraling. Start by acknowledging your qualities outside of work. Practice separating what you do from who you are. Volunteer, play, be a beginner at things, have fun new experiences unattached to mastery or achievement.

Remember, you existed before this career, and you’ll exist meaningfully after it. Your ability to mourn this, rebuild and move forward are re the very skills that will serve you in whatever comes next, and whoever you become.