Let’s set the scene.
Ten days before Christmas.
I’m sitting at my desk, fluorescent lights overhead, breast pump buzzing on one side… and my inbox open on the other.

Ding.

An email from my supervisor—an actual adult man with a PhD and the emotional intelligence of a rusty stapler—lands in my inbox. It’s cold. It is so condescending. A professional slap in the face.

I was already holding way too much: postpartum depression, no sleep, the mental load of being the default parent, and a job that treated me like I was lucky to be there.

That email?
That was it for me y’alls. I couldn’t do it anymore!
I closed my laptop, unclipped my pump, and quit. Yep. I quit.

No plan. No job lined up. Just… me, my baby, and the full-body knowing that I couldn’t do any of this nonsense anymore.

But Lemme Back Up For a Beat

So I took a break. Four months.
Which felt like forever at the time.

No guidebook. No money coming in.
Just panic-Googling jobs at 2am and crying in the car on the way to daycare.

My Second Break Was Different

Fast forward to le now! I found a new job—one that checked the boxes but still didn’t feel like mine.

So I did something scary again. Le gulp.
This time, with purpose.

I left the workforce and started my career coaching business—not because I had it all figured out, but because I was finally clear on what I couldn’t go back to:

• A job that drained me
• A system that punished motherhood
• An identity tied to being “the good employee” at the expense of being a whole human

This second break wasn’t about collapse.
It was about being sooooo clear about how I actually want to serve women!

And I built this business to help other moms do the same, with support, with a plan, and without burning everything down to feel like themselves again.

So if you’re staring down a break (or already in one)…

1. Give your break a job

Instead of spiraling in guilt or shame, ask yourself: “What is this pause here to teach me or give me space to notice?”
Mine taught me I’d been shrinking for years. Yours might reveal exhaustion, a pivot, or a craving you’ve ignored.

➡️ Write down 3 things you want this break to restore: your energy, your confidence, your clarity, etc.

2. Stop telling yourself you’re “starting over”

Girl, stop it. You are not a fresh grad. You’re not behind.
You’re carrying decades of skills, wisdom, and insight into whatever comes next.

So don’t say: “I need to figure out what I want to be when I grow up.”
Instead, say: “I’m taking stock of what fits me now.”

➡️ Audit your story: What are the 3 strongest themes across all your roles? What are you done tolerating? What do you want more of?

3. Make a list of the women you need to talk to

Every pivotal decision in my career came after a conversation—not a job board.

➡️ Reach out to 2 women this week who have done what you want to do. Let them remind you that pivots are possible—and you’re not alone.

Final Word, Friend

Taking a career break doesn’t make you flaky. Like at all. It makes you human.

A break is a powerful, radical thing—especially in a world that treats mothers like machines and ambition like a sin. Such BS.

So if you’re in the in-between?

Know this: You’re not broken. You’re not behind. You’re in the messy middle of something that will make you more powerful and clear than ever.

And when you’re ready to rise again, this space is here.
I’m here.

In your corner.
Always.

—Jane

P.S. Come sit with us

This blog is your strategic group chat for working moms who are done settling.

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