Meenakshi Bose

Layoffs change you in ways you don’t anticipate. They disrupt routines, shake identities, and force you to confront questions you hadn’t planned to ask. As someone who spent more than a decade building a career in UX, I thought I had a clear map of where I was heading. Then one day, the map folded itself up and vanished.

This post isn’t about the logistics of being laid off. It’s about what happened after; the quiet, complicated, and surprisingly transformative journey that led me through content creation, self-reinvention, and ultimately, back to UX with a deeper sense of clarity.

The Day Everything Shifted

When I got laid off, it wasn’t just a job that I lost. It felt like losing structure, direction, and a little bit of myself. You spend years building a professional identity, stacking experience, planning for the next role, and suddenly you aren’t sure where you belong anymore.

The hardest part wasn’t the shock. It was the silence that followed.

Waking up the next morning without a meeting to prepare for, a roadmap to review, or a team to collaborate with, it makes you question your worth in a way that’s uncomfortable and unfamiliar. I kept asking myself: What now? What do I build next? Who am I without work?

Turning to Creativity When Everything Felt Uncertain

In that vacuum of uncertainty, I instinctively turned to something that had always lived in the background of my life: creating.

Backpacking With My Lens, my travel blog and tiny corner of the internet, became a lifeline. I picked up my camera. I traveled. I wrote. I explored food, cities, and bus routes. What started as a passion project slowly evolved into something more structured and consistent.

I threw myself into:

• documenting my trips
• learning YouTube and short-form content
• writing travel guides
• taking photography seriously
• collaborating with local businesses

For the first time in years, I was building something that belonged entirely to me. No stakeholders, no deadlines, no strategy decks. Just creativity, raw, imperfect, and deeply comforting.

And surprisingly, it worked.

My content grew. Opportunities opened up. I found myself transitioning into the world of creators and small brands, developing a whole new skill set along the way.

When Creativity Turned Into a Full-Time Identity

But here’s the honest part.

As the months went on, content creation, which began as a source of healing, became a job in itself. A job with no boundaries, no clock-out time, and a constant pressure to stay visible.

I started measuring my days by:

• how many views a reel got
• whether a post “performed”
• how many subscribers I gained or lost
• which hooks worked and which flopped

Somewhere between “posting consistently” and “the algorithm wants what it wants,” I realized I was drifting away from why I started in the first place. My blog, the one thing that mattered most to me, took a backseat to the fast pace of social media.

I wasn’t designing products anymore. I was designing content calendars.

And little by little, I felt the burnout.

The Unexpected Lessons I Learned About UX

What I didn’t expect was how much this creator phase would reshape the way I see UX.

It taught me things I couldn’t have learned inside an office or inside Figma:

1. Humans behave differently when they are not your “users”

Watching people react to content in real time gave me raw insights into attention, emotion, and behavior.

2. Storytelling is a UX superpower

The ability to hold attention, craft narratives, and guide someone through an experience, whether a video or a product, is the same muscle.

3. Data matters, but emotions matter more

Analytics tell you what people do.

Comments, clicks, and reactions tell you why.

4. Iteration is everywhere

Designing content isn’t far from designing experiences, both rely on continuous testing, learning, and refining.

5. Wearing multiple hats makes you a sharper designer

During this year, I became my own:

• Project manager
• Researcher
• Writer
• Copy editor
• Analyst
• Videographer
• QA tester
• Customer support

This broadened perspective changed how I see design work and cross-functional collaboration.

Finding My Way Back to UX – Slowly and Intentionally

The truth is, I haven’t fully “returned” to UX yet.

I’m somewhere in the middle; that strange space between who I used to be and who I’m becoming next. It’s a long road of learning, unlearning, and regaining momentum, and some days feel heavier than others.

This phase doesn’t look glamorous. It looks like:

• rewatching old UX talks I once understood easily
• reopening Figma after months and needing time to warm up
• rewriting the same case study five times
• redesigning my portfolio with every new wave of clarity
• questioning whether I’m still “good enough”
• reminding myself that skills don’t disappear, they just rest
• rebuilding confidence from the ground up

It’s slow, but it’s happening.

And more importantly, I’m approaching it differently this time; with patience instead of panic, intention instead of pressure.

What This Transitional Phase Really Feels Like

If I had to describe it, I’d say this phase is equal parts uncomfortable and necessary.

I’m learning again.

Not because I forgot everything, but because I want to rediscover UX with fresh eyes, informed by the creator journey I never expected to go on.

I’m unlearning too.

The productivity guilt.
The constant need to “prove” myself.
The belief that my worth is tied to a job title.

I’m reframing what a UX career means to me.

Not just landing a role, but choosing work that aligns with my values, pace, and creativity.

I’m rebuilding confidence step by tiny step.

And yes, some days are still filled with doubt.
But doubt isn’t the opposite of growth, it’s part of it.

Where I Stand Today

Today, I’m in motion, not at the finish line, but no longer standing still.

I’m:

• updating portfolio pieces one page at a time
• exploring freelance and contract opportunities
• studying, reading, practicing, and sharpening my craft
• reconnecting with the design community
• applying selectively instead of desperately
• giving myself permission to grow at my own pace

And at the same time, I’m still creating content, still writing, still photographing, still telling stories. The creator in me didn’t disappear — she just isn’t carrying the entire weight anymore.

Both worlds coexist now, without competing for space.

Lastly, If You’re Also in the In-Between

If you’re in that limbo, not who you were, not yet who you’ll be; here’s what I’ve learned:

It’s okay to be rebuilding.
It’s okay to not have a clear answer yet.
It’s okay to feel slow, confused, hopeful, discouraged, and determined, all at the same time.

Momentum doesn’t always look like massive leaps.
Sometimes it looks like tiny steps taken consistently, quietly, privately.

You don’t need to “find your way back” overnight.
You just need to keep moving towards the version of yourself you’re proud of becoming.

And that’s exactly what I’m doing, one step, one skill, one small win at a time.