This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Sylvia Duran Chen, a 39-year-old former Google and YouTube employee from San Diego. The following has been edited for length and clarity.
I had been with Google for almost nine years when I was laid off on January 20. I spent eight of those years at YouTube, primarily working from the world headquarters in San Bruno, California.
Over those years, I worked in operations, partnerships, and marketing and was deeply invested in YouTube's culture. I saw the company grow in size, complexity, and significance.
I could never imagine leaving Google — especially YouTube
Both of my parents are from Mexico, and neither graduated high school. I was the first in my family to go to college, and I attended Cornell University before studying at Columbia Law School.
Although I had a successful career, with stints at Nike and McKinsey & Company, landing a job at Google felt like winning the lottery. The company culture felt special, one of a kind, and truly connected to a mission bigger than ourselves.
The perks were a fun talking point, but the founders' commitment to transparency with employees and making the impossible possible made Google a place to belong rather than simply a workplace. I felt lucky and proud to be a Googler.
Like many other Googlers, Google became my life
I felt appreciated and valued by Google. Everything became tied to the company for me — my friendships, experiences, and values. The boundary between work and life was incredibly blurry, but I welcomed this. I was part of the nerds, the game changers, and the tech elite.
I felt cocooned in a protective shell from the outside world, where I had always felt not good enough. I went all in. I raised my hand for the hard jobs and did it with a smile.
I worked as a chief of staff to YouTube's head of global operations
I also served as a general manager for YouTube Mexico during the COVID-19 pandemic.
I leaned into being a persistent and positive contributor to our Google community. I was repeatedly identified as "top talent" and given opportunities to grow as a leader.
This made the layoffs all the more devastating and shocking.
When the layoffs happened, I allowed myself a week of grieving time
I felt rejected, ashamed, and like all my insecurities had been proven correct. Most painfully, I felt that everything I'd done hadn't mattered.
Do I belong here? Am I good enough? Am I taking up too much space? Who am I to ask for things? These feelings were always inside me, but I'd shoved them aside because Google had chosen me. Clearly, I mattered, because this important and powerful company said I did.
I knew this was something I needed to come to grips with.
Three days after being laid off, I recorded what would become the first episode of my podcast
I know my journey isn't unique and that disappointment, pain, and questioning our self-worth is part of the human experience. Knowing this didn't make my individual process easier — but I realized that saying some of these things out loud made it less scary for me.
I talked about being laid off by Google and the raw insecurities it laid bare. I had never shared these feelings before, and suddenly I was going to share them with complete strangers — that's what heartbreak did to me.
Five months after my layoff, I realized three things.
1. There's a part of me that'll always go all in
I believe in trying my best, delivering excellence, and investing in the communities I'm a part of. So, whatever my next job is, this is who I'll continue to be.
But going forward, I'll challenge myself to do it from a place of love and appreciation for the people I work alongside, not from a place of fear, where I'm constantly trying to prove my worth.
2. Being great at my job can't be the primary way I define who I am
I've always known this on some level — but truly internalizing it is another thing. Besides whatever professional role I may play, I'm also a mother, a wife, a daughter, a sister, an auntie, and a friend. These meaningful roles require that I invest in my health.
It's hard to have it all, but I genuinely realized after my layoff that I really didn't have anything if I didn't invest in my mental and physical health.
3. None of us are alone
This is such a beautiful part of life. I'm deeply grateful for my family and friends who continue showing up for me and reminding me that I'm more than my LinkedIn profile or the accolades I've accumulated.
Those accomplishments do mean something to me — they're evidence that you can come from humble beginnings and be in the same room as a trailblazer like Susan Wojcicki. I'm proud of the leaps I've made for my family in a single generation, but I'm equally proud of my deep friendships, of the way I treat people, and that I start every day feeling optimistic and excited for the challenges ahead.
I'm not ready to say that being laid off was a gift. But I will say that it's resulted in unexpected blessings that have accelerated my understanding of whom I want to be.
