The last six months have been a turbulent stretch for professionals across media, entertainment, music, and other creative fields.
Across the globe, major companies have enacted large-scale layoffs, leaving thousands of creative workers suddenly facing career upheaval.
Paramount announced it would cut about 2,000 jobs (roughly 10% of its workforce). Disney trimmed hundreds of positions in its television and film divisions. Warner Music Group “rightsized” its headcount, having already let go of 600 staff (about 10% of its workforce).
My situation is similar to those mentioned. About two months ago, one of the companies I helped build and lead was sold. As often happens in moments of change, some of my C-suite colleagues and I stepped aside to make room for the next chapter of its growth.
I have nothing but great things to say about everyone involved. I was treated exceptionally well, and I’m genuinely excited to see the company continue to grow. When your employee ID number is 0009 at a company that’s grown to thousands, it’s natural to feel proud of how far the team has come — and grateful to have been part of that story. I’ll always be rooting for its continued success and the people who make it possible.
We all know companies get bought and sold, but when it happens, you run the risk of feeling like someone important turned into guy with a box of business books and a blank LinkedIn status.
Seeing a career suddenly disrupted can shake anyone’s sense of identity and self-worth. You might find yourself asking:
“Who am I now that I’ve lost this role?” “What does it say about me that this happened?”
It’s in these vulnerable moments we see what author Henri Nouwen described as the five lies of identity — lessons that inspired my take on the five lies of professional identity.
Let’s hold these lies up to the light because sometimes clarity shows up right after your keycard stops working.
Lie #1: I Am What I Do
For years, when someone asked, “so, what do you do?” I had a slick answer ready. (Hi, I’m [Phil Becker], I’m a Chief something-or-other… nice to meet you, too).
At a networking event (a.k.a. speed dating for people looking for work) last week, someone casually asked what I do, and I stumbled like a fifth grader presenting his Rube Goldberg project. (Shoutout to Mrs. Miller at Ottawa Elementary.)
Who am I if not a [Former Title]?
It’s an easy trap: society rewards us for what we do more than who we are.
A job is what you do, not who you are. (Read that again, out loud. It’s important).
The actual truth: When the applause fades and the inbox goes quiet, what’s left isn’t your résumé, it’s your reason.
Lie #2: I Am What I Have
Confession: I live in a house about much bigger than any sane person requires.
It has rooms we don’t even use (except when filming a podcast or giving Bootleg Kev a place to crash, another blog for another time).
And sitting in my garage is a bright green, “look-at-me” Porsche that practically screams “please, validate my life choices!”
At some point, I bought into the lie that a big house meant I was doing big things.
The freeing truth: Your car, house, watch, followers, they’re props, not proof.
When the stuff disappears, the real you is what’s left standing. And that’s the part they can’t repossess, unfollow, or take off the lot.
Lie #3: I Am What Other People Say or Think of Me
In the age of social media, it’s easy to fall for the lie that “I am what others say or think of me.”
When your career takes an unexpected turn, you start to wonder: What will colleagues think? What will friends or family say?
If your layoff was public, as often happens in entertainment, media, or tech, you might feel embarrassment or shame as if your professional reputation has been tarnished.
The factual truth: You are not defined by other people’s opinions.
The people who matter won’t think less of you. And those who judge you? If you live for their approval, you’ll die by their opinions.
Reconnect with those who support and believe in you for you, not for your former title.
Your identity’s not a group project. No one else gets a vote.
Lie #4: I Am Nothing More Than My Worst Moment
A career setback can feel like watching the spotlight shift away while you’re still standing on stage.
It’s tempting to replay the what-ifs: the projects that didn’t pan out, the metrics you missed, or the bad luck of being in the wrong department at the wrong time.
You start believing: “This is who I am now.”
But one bad chapter doesn’t erase the story.
You’re not just the person who exited. You’re also the colleague who delivered, the creative mind who contributed, the teammate who will always matter.
The liberating truth: Sometimes pain writes the paragraph, but perseverance finishes the page.
Lie #5: I Am Nothing Less Than My Best Moment
Funny thing about change: if it doesn’t break you, it tries to rewrite itself as “the good old days.”
This lie sounds nice, “I am my best moment,” but it traps us in yesterday’s highlight reel.
Maybe you had a title with lots of capital letters or helped build a brand everyone bragged about. That success became your comfort zone, proof of your worth.
Now, in between roles, you might wonder if your best days are behind you.
The empowering truth: Your worth doesn’t vanish with your title. Your talent doesn’t expire with your role. And your story doesn’t stop with one high note.
Endings are just new beginnings in disguise.
You Are A Person Not A Profession
In times like these, it’s easy to wrestle with these lies about who we are.
You are not what you have. You are not what you do. You are not what others say.
You are a whole person with creativity, dignity, and purpose that exist independently of any job title.
Take heart in knowing you’re not alone. Thousands of talented people across creative industries are navigating the same uncertainty.
Companies may be in flux, but your worth doesn’t rise and fall with their stock price.
The Chapter Ahead
So what’s next for me? Honestly, I’m not sure. And I like that.
I’m focusing on the fundamentals: family, health, staying curious, and being open to what fits the real me.
I feel like a rookie again, a little anxious, a little excited, and very much alive.
If you’ve made it this far, thank you.
Now I want to hear your story.
Drop a thought below, something someone scrolling today might need to see.
Keep writing your story. Someone out there needs you in their next chapter.
-Phil Becker