Today marks a difficult anniversary—it’s been exactly one year since I was let go from my job.

On July 9th, 2024, I was fired. The official reason? I “cost too much.” But if I’m being honest, I believe the real reason had more to do with the time I was starting to take off to support my mother. Her health had declined quickly, and we were applying for crisis placement in a long-term care facility. It was a stressful and emotional time—my family was doing everything we could to get her the care she needed.

After a difficult and uncertain waiting period, my mother was finally admitted to long-term care on August 26th. From that day forward, I was there every other day—making sure she was adjusting, ensuring she didn’t feel abandoned, and being the familiar face she could rely on. That time with her was—and still is—one of the most important things I’ve ever done.

By November, once she had settled into a routine and was as comfortable as possible in her new surroundings, I turned my attention back to my own life. To finding work again. To rebuilding.

Since then, I’ve applied to 36 jobs. Some were kind enough to send a rejection email. Most didn’t respond at all. Several applications still sit in limbo with the status “under consideration,” weeks or even months after submission. I’ve tailored my resume, rewritten cover letters, reached out to connections, and stayed committed.

And now, with my unemployment insurance set to run out this Friday, the weight of it all feels heavier than ever.

This post isn’t meant to complain—it’s meant to speak truthfully. Because this is what it’s like trying to get back into the workforce in mid-life. You have experience—decades of it—but sometimes it feels like that works against you. You’ve got knowledge and work ethic, but somehow it’s not enough to get a call back. You wake up each day determined to stay productive, to stay sharp, to stay hopeful… even as the silence stretches on.

Here’s what I’ve learned in the last year:

• Being there for family is never the wrong decision.
• Experience should be seen as a strength, not a setback.
• And your worth isn’t defined by who hires you or how fast they do it.

If you’re going through something similar, I want you to know: you’re not alone. If you’ve had to make hard choices between caregiving and career, if you’re still checking job boards months later, still applying, still hoping—I see you.

To everyone who’s supported me during this past year—thank you. And to the hiring managers still reviewing my resume: I’m ready. I bring not just skill, but perspective, dedication, and heart.

Here’s to turning the page, and to finding what comes next.

— Wayner