From Searching Alone to Finding My Fit: On letting go, leaning in, and redefining what alignment means

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I’ve always been independent—someone who tries to figure things out on my own and only reaches out for help as a last resort. But this year has knocked that approach sideways.

Since January, the international development field has essentially disappeared, and I’ve been left wondering: where do my skills even fit in the private sector?

During an informational interview with a former colleague who had just landed a role, I asked her how she did it. She told me about a book called Never Search Alone and something I’d never heard of before: job search councils. She said the process was eye-opening—and that most people in her group had either already found jobs or were close to the finish line.

I’ll admit, I was skeptical. Support groups have never been my thing. But the more she described it, the more I realized that maybe grit alone wasn’t going to get me through this transition. So, I joined.

And here’s the thing: it’s different. A job search council isn’t just “talking about feelings.” It’s structure, accountability, and community all rolled together. Each week we set goals, report back, share resources, and cheer one another on. It’s a space where small wins matter—landing an interview, sending a bold networking email, even just showing up on a tough week.

That said, it’s also a time commitment. There are days when I feel too exhausted to log on, and honestly, it would be easier to zone out in front of some mindless reality show. But then I remind myself: I’ve made a commitment to others, and this is at least using my brain, moving me forward, and keeping me connected.

I’m especially hopeful about the market research part of the program. After years in government and international development, I need clarity on how my skills translate to the private sector. My council feels like the best place to start putting those puzzle pieces together.


When I began my job search, I just wanted to enter the private sector and work on things I didn’t feel emotionally tied to. After years of pouring my energy into mission-driven work, I didn’t think I had another heartbreak left in me.

But reality—and the economy—had other plans. As layoffs swept through industries and competition grew fierce, I quickly realized that I wasn’t as competitive for the private sector roles being posted. My background was too steeped in public service, partnerships, and impact. I wasn’t a “corporate fit,” at least not in the traditional sense.

At first, that realization felt discouraging. But as I reflected, it also offered clarity. Maybe the goal wasn’t to reinvent myself into something unrecognizable. Maybe it was to understand, with honesty and precision, where my skills actually belong.

That process—guided by reflection, feedback, and a lot of humility—led me to uncover my candidate market fit. It wasn’t just about finding a job; it was about understanding where my experience, values, and energy meet the needs of the market.

I realized my career has always been about turning big goals into actionable results. Whether managing multimillion-dollar health and humanitarian programs or leading diverse teams through uncertainty, I’ve built a toolkit around structure, execution, and human connection.

What’s evolved is how I define impact. For years, my lens was global—supporting programs across borders, often in complex policy spaces. Now, my focus is more grounded: mission-driven organizations, philanthropy, and community-based initiatives that deliver measurable results for underserved populations.

My candidate market fit statement came from this clarity:

I am a senior leader with nearly 20 years of experience managing multimillion-dollar programs, leading high-performing teams, and overseeing grant portfolios up to $300M. My expertise lies in project management, organizational leadership, and stakeholder engagement, with a focus on programs that strengthen resilience and expand access for vulnerable and underserved populations.

It’s not just a summary—it’s a mirror. It reflects the kind of work I want to keep doing: connecting strategy to purpose, operations to equity, and leadership to real-world outcomes.

In the last few weeks, I’ve been applying to fewer jobs—choosing intention over volume. I no longer want to play the numbers game. Still, a part of me is scared. With so many funding shortages and a tightening economy, I worry that my market fit might not be viable right now—that organizations doing the kind of work I care about most are the very ones struggling to hire. It’s a fear I carry quietly, but one I hope is wrong.

Because I believe there are opportunities out there—even if they look different than I once imagined, or aren’t in Washington, D.C. Maybe the next step isn’t about geography or title. Maybe it’s about alignment—finding the place where purpose still has room to grow.


Reflection

What I’m learning is that independence doesn’t mean isolation. Sometimes the bravest thing is showing up, even when you’re tired.

Finding your market fit isn’t just a career exercise—it’s an act of self-awareness. For me, it’s been about naming what I value, not just what I can do. After years of defining myself by mission statements and organizational goals, this process reminded me that purpose evolves too.

I’m learning that professional alignment, much like personal growth, comes from listening—to what energizes me, what I’ve outgrown, and where I still feel called to serve.

Maybe the real fit isn’t something we find at all—it’s something we grow into.

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About Me

I am a displaced federal worker and the creator behind this blog.

For nearly two decades, I served at USAID, leading programs in global health and humanitarian response. Then life shifted — I became my father’s caregiver, lost him, and watched the career I had built be dismantled.

Now, I’m rebuilding from scratch. Bureaucrat to Baby Steps is where I share the messy, hopeful journey of loss, legacy, and motherhood — one small step at a time.

This space is less about polished advice and more about real stories of transition, caregiving, and becoming a mother on my own terms.