When the Power Suit No Longer Fits

There’s a particular grief in not being the breadwinner anymore.
A quiet shame in budgeting grocery runs.
In watching the savings account tick down.
In knowing that your name—once attached to big deals, big salaries, big moves—is now on a coaching invoice you sent into the void, hoping someone bites.

I used to be someone.
At least that’s what the job told me.
The salary.
The inbox full of “quick asks.”
The team that needed me.
The calendar that didn’t have room to breathe.

Now I have space.
And fuck, it’s confronting.

I thought if I healed, if I slowed down, if I built something of my own…
I’d feel more powerful.
But some days I just feel unmoored. Like someone pressed pause and forgot to press play again.

Here’s what’s true:

I was powerful in those boardrooms.
But I was also burning.

And this version of me? The one without the title, without the safety net, without the applause?
She’s building something steadier.
Something less dependent on external validation and quarterly bonuses.

She’s learning to stay with herself.
To be in discomfort without abandoning her own body.
To lead without needing to be everyone’s hero.

This is not a rags-to-riches reinvention arc.
It’s a reclamation.

And maybe you’re here too—in the in-between.
The grief.
The grind.
The “who even am I now?”
If so, you’re not broken. You’re becoming.

And damn it, that is power.