I wasn’t good at drawing characters, but took the design request anyway. The request came from a design leader who wanted to make empty states more personal: less blank, more human. Characters would help. I used to draw in college, but I hadn’t touched a sketchbook in years.

Still, I gave it a shot.

The first character I created was inspired by Charlotte, the personified AI in one of CrowdStrike’s campaigns, a woman in a red scarf from the commercial. I imagined a version of her through my own lens: glasses, red scarf, soft texture. I spent an entire Saturday putting it together. And when I turned it in… it landed. People loved it. It was one of those rare “wow” moments. The design leader asked me to do more.

But I wasn’t a character artist. I struggled to replicate the same look and feel—especially in different poses or outfits. I tried versions of Charlotte as a male, as a bird, as a robot. Nothing hit like that first drawing.

Eventually, I stepped away from the task. I knew I couldn’t sustainably deliver what the team needed, and I wasn’t willing to spend my time trying to become an illustrator when I wanted to grow as a product designer. The task was left open, no one else wanted it either. It felt like a personal failure. Like I let someone down.

I transitioned to another team, one focused more on product design, research, and solving business problems. That’s where I wanted to grow. I started leading more projects, focusing on business value and user outcomes. But even with all that, something felt missing and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was still proving myself.

Three years passed at CrowdStrike. One year in eCommerce. One in Design System. One in IT automation. And then it happened, I got laid off.

The call was short. The design leader said sorry in a webinar-style format. HR took over. Then Slack disconnected. Email gone. VPN locked. I knew it was coming. I’d braced for it the night before. But knowing doesn’t make it easier.

I’m the sole income for my family. We have a one-year-old. A mortgage. A life we built on stability. And now, I don’t know what comes next.

I’m not here to point fingers. Business is business. Layoffs don’t always make sense. I worked hard, everyone knew it. And I’m now out here—like so many others—joining the fight for the next opportunity. The job market is brutal. I’m rebuilding my resume. Applying to anything I can. I’m not starting from the bottom. I’m starting from a fall.

But I’ll get back up.

This is the first time I’ve been laid off. And while I’ve lost the salary, the benefits, the title, and a bit of pride—I haven’t lost myself. I’m willing to take anything to keep going. What comes next won’t be easy, but it’ll forge me into something stronger.