Laid Off, Leveled Up: How I Reclaimed My Career on My Own Terms

The morning after my layoff, I couldn’t get out of bed. I remember staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle in a way it never had before. For years, I had been the steady one, the fixer, the scheduler, the calm in the chaos. Being an Executive Assistant means carrying everyone else’s deadlines, emotions, and emergencies while quietly pretending you are fine. You are the person who keeps everything standing, even when you are crumbling inside.

By the time I lost my job, I was already burnt out. My therapist once told me, “If you put even an ounce of what you give to everyone else back into yourself, imagine what could happen.” At the time, I nodded politely, but I didn’t really understand. It took lying there, surrounded by silence, for her words to finally land.

At first, I panicked. The questions came fast: What am I going to do? Who am I without this title? My entire sense of purpose had been tied to being useful. But that moment, raw, unglamorous, and uncomfortable, became the starting point for everything that came next.

I actually founded The Nouvou back in 2023, but like most passion projects, it sat on the back burner while I poured myself into my job. After the layoff, I decided to finally pour into myself instead. I didn’t know where it would lead; I just knew I wanted to create something that made me feel alive again, something that was mine.

So I began small. Late nights on the floor with mood boards and sketches. Vintage handbags spread out around me, charms scattered like puzzle pieces. I wasn’t thinking about revenue or reach; I was thinking about healing. I wanted to build a brand that reflected everything I had forgotten about myself, my creativity, my curiosity, my love for storytelling, and beauty. The Nouvou became the space where I could merge all of that: creativity, strategy, and a sense of care that felt deeply personal.

Starting over wasn’t glamorous. It was humbling. It forced me to confront how much I had equated achievement with identity. But little by little, I began to see that reinvention isn’t about erasing who you were; it’s about coming home to who you have always been.

In early 2025, I started branching out by signing up for local maker markets and small vendor fairs. I remember how nervous I felt that first morning, loading my car with handbags, charms, and displays I had built by hand. It wasn’t glamorous. It was me, my two dogs, a folding table, a few dreamers around me, and a vision that refused to die.

But something shifted that day. As people stopped by my table, asking questions, smiling, and connecting, I felt my self-esteem come back to life. Every conversation reminded me that what I was building mattered. Women would tell me, “I love that you’re doing this,” or “I’ve never seen something like this before.” Their words became my motivation and my validation. Those moments made me realize I wasn’t just building for myself. I was building for other women who looked like me, who valued creativity, and who wanted to see themselves reflected in something beautiful and intentional.

Those markets became my training ground. They taught me resilience, storytelling, and confidence. I learned how to engage people, how to share my why, and how to make every detail feel intentional.

They also reminded me that impact doesn’t start with scale; it starts with showing up, even when you’re scared.

As momentum grew, I started moving from markets to solo brand activations, intimate experiences I curated on my own terms. I wanted to create spaces that didn’t just showcase products but told a story. The charm bar became a signature, an interactive expression of creativity where guests could personalize their handbags and accessories while connecting with others.

Each activation became more polished, more soulful, and more rooted in community. What began as me trying to rebuild my confidence evolved into something that uplifted others. Guests would leave not just with charms but with conversations, connections, and inspiration. That’s when I knew The Nouvou wasn’t just a business; it was a movement built on belonging.

Now I am taking everything I have learned to the next level. After months of hesitation, I finally found the confidence to pitch myself to a hotel, and they said yes. On November 21, I will be hosting The Friendsgiving Haus, a collaboration between The Nouvou and The Axiom Hotel in San Francisco. It’s my biggest event yet, and it feels like a full-circle moment.

This time, I am not just curating a space; I am building an experience that celebrates everything The Nouvou stands for: creativity, strategy, and community. There will be charm bars, flower bars, and beauty activations that center joy and self-expression. But more than that, it’s about creating a space where Black women and women of color feel seen, valued, and celebrated.

As I prepare for Friendsgiving Haus, I can’t help but think back to that version of myself who couldn’t get out of bed, the woman who doubted her voice and poured into everyone else but herself. She would be proud of how far I have come, not just for building a brand, but for rebuilding my belief in what’s possible when we finally choose ourselves.

For me, The Nouvou is more than a business; it’s a love letter to Black women who dare to start over. It’s proof that when we slow down, nurture our creativity, and give ourselves permission to take up space, we don’t just build brands. We build legacies.