The Layoff That Led Me Here

Me right after being laid off from my job in 2022

For most of my adult life, I had a plan.

I spent nearly 20 years working in healthcare, eventually building a career in biotech and patient advocacy. I loved helping patients navigate complex diagnoses, connecting with support organizations, and working on programs that made people’s lives better.

I especially loved working with autoimmune communities.

As someone who has lived with alopecia for most of my life, I felt a particular connection to women with conditions like lupus, many of whom were also experiencing hair loss. Their struggles felt familiar. Their questions felt familiar.

I just didn’t realize at the time how important that connection would become.

Then, at the end of 2022, everything changed.

The End I Never Saw Coming

I was completely blindsided when I was laid off.

Not long before, I had been promoted. I was the subject matter expert on my team. Colleagues came to me for answers. I genuinely believed I was safe.

I wasn’t.

The company had started restructuring, and I became one of the first casualties. Over the following year, they would lay off nearly half of their workforce.

Looking back, I can see it was a blessing.

At the time, it felt like my world had collapsed. My confidence took a massive hit. So did my identity.

Like many people who have tied a lot of their self-worth to their career, I suddenly found myself asking a terrifying question:

If I’m not this job, then who am I?

The Children’s Book That Changed Everything

I spent more than a year searching for another role.

Nothing materialized.

So, I did something completely unexpected: I wrote a children’s book.

Hair Pride was originally just a creative outlet. Something to keep my mind busy. Something meaningful to work on while I figured out my next step.

I wrote it for my daughters.

I wrote it for little girls who felt different because of their hair, and honestly, I wrote it for the 15-year-old version of myself.

Once the book was finished, I decided to self-publish it. That launched me into an entirely new world of learning about publishing, marketing, book launches, and entrepreneurship.

For the first time in a long time, I felt excited again.

The Job That Was Too Good To Be True

A few months later, a woman reached out to me on LinkedIn.

She ran a healthcare marketing agency. She praised my writing, my network, and my healthcare experience.

Then she offered me what felt like a dream opportunity and I accepted.

Three months later, it fell apart.

After initially paying me a salary, she informed me that she would no longer compensate me unless my work was tied to an existing invoice.

The problem was that bringing in new business was exactly what she had hired me to do, so this meant I wouldn’t get paid for a majority of my work. I realized very quickly that the arrangement wasn’t fair and walked away.

I felt embarrassed.

I questioned my judgment. I wondered how I could have missed the warning signs.

Most of all, I worried that maybe I wasn’t as capable as I thought I was.

The Wig Store

Then, another unexpected opportunity appeared.

The owner of a local wig store was moving to Toronto and needed help running her Vancouver location.

I had been a customer for years. I knew wigs. I knew hair loss. I knew how terrified many women felt walking through those doors.

So I jumped in.

The pay wasn’t glamorous, but the work absolutely was.

Every day I met women who were scared, grieving, frustrated, overwhelmed, and looking for answers.

Many of them reminded me of myself.

What surprised me most wasn’t how much they needed a wig; it was how much they needed someone who understood.

Someone who could say: “I’ve been there.”

Someone who could take off her own wig and show them they weren’t alone.

Those conversations changed me.

The Idea That Wouldn’t Leave Me Alone

During my time at the wig store, a thought kept returning.

What if I built the community I wish I’d had? What if women didn’t have to navigate hair loss alone?

What if there was a place where they could ask questions, cry, laugh, talk about wigs, complain about insurance, celebrate regrowth, or simply be understood?

I couldn’t stop thinking about it, so in September 2024, I registered a business.

I had no business plan. No coaching certification. No roadmap, just a belief that women with hair loss deserved better support.

Hair Loss Pride was born.

Learning By Failing

My original vision was an online support group.

I imagined women gathering monthly on Zoom, sharing openly, and supporting one another.

Almost nobody signed up, and I was crushed. But, the women who did reach out told me something important:

• They wanted privacy.

• They wanted one-on-one support.

• They weren’t ready to share in front of strangers.

So, I pivoted and started coaching. Then I added wig consultations, and something clicked.

• Women began booking.

• Word spread.

• The need was bigger than I realized.

What I thought was a failed idea was actually feedback.

The business wasn’t broken; it was evolving.

Building Something Bigger Than Me

Since then, Hair Loss Pride has grown in ways I never imagined.

I’ve helped women find wigs and toppers that restore confidence. I’ve coached women through the emotional side of hair loss. I’ve built a local Vancouver community that now includes more than 20 women supporting one another. I’ve launched a podcast. I’ve spoken publicly about alopecia. I’ve started advocating for something that feels deeply important to me: representation.

At the end of 2025, I decided women with hair loss deserved to be seen in beauty and fashion campaigns. We spend money with these brands. We wear their clothes. We buy their makeup and skincare, yet we are almost completely absent from the imagery that tells women what beauty looks like.

So, I started cold-emailing founders.

No connections, insider access, or guarantee anyone would respond.

Just a mission.

To my surprise, some of them said yes.

Since then, I’ve collaborated on social media campaigns with two Canadian beauty brands, participated in a photoshoot for a Vancouver-based fashion brand, and begun building relationships with companies that genuinely understand the importance of representation.

The opportunity I’m most excited about is one I never would have imagined at the start of this journey. I’m currently preparing for a collaboration with Knix, the very brand that sat at the top of my dream partnership list at the beginning of 2026. Together, we’re working on a piece about representation and why women with alopecia deserve to see themselves reflected in the brands they support.

Part of me still can’t quite believe it’s happening.

The other part knows I’ve worked incredibly hard to get here.

For over six months, I’ve been sending emails to brands, introducing myself, explaining why this matters, and asking companies to look beyond traditional beauty standards. Most of those emails were ignored. Some were rejected. A few opened doors.

Those few yeses have changed everything, and I’m not stopping.

My goal isn’t simply to appear in a handful of campaigns. My goal is for women with alopecia to become a normal, everyday part of beauty and fashion imagery. Not a special feature. Not an awareness month campaign. Just women being represented alongside everyone else.

Because that’s what inclusion looks like.

So, what’s next?

I’m continuing to grow Hair Loss Pride in ways that directly support women navigating hair loss. I’m developing wig and salon workshops so I can better serve this community. I’m expanding my coaching and consultation offerings. And, I’m finally determined to finish the online course that’s been sitting in development for over a year.

There never seems to be enough time in the day. Fortunately, this no longer feels like work.

It feels like purpose.

The Truth About Hair Loss Pride

People sometimes ask me how I started Hair Loss Pride.

The honest answer is that I didn’t wake up one day with a perfectly formed business idea.

Hair Loss Pride was built from layoffs.

• From rejection.

• From feeling lost.

• From taking jobs that didn’t work out.

• From trusting the wrong people.

• From helping women try on wigs.

• From writing a children’s book.

• From years of living with alopecia and wishing someone understood.

Every disappointment taught me something. Every detour pointed me here.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this:

Sometimes the thing you’re meant to build doesn’t arrive as a lightning-bolt moment. Sometimes it reveals itself one difficult, messy, unexpected step at a time.

If you had told me three years ago that I’d be coaching women with hair loss, hosting community dinners, speaking publicly about alopecia, leading a podcast, consulting on wigs, working with beauty brands, and advocating for representation, I wouldn’t have believed you.

Life has a funny way of redirecting us.

The things that broke my heart ended up shaping my path. The doors that closed forced me to build my own.

While I still have big dreams for Hair Loss Pride, I’m incredibly grateful for where this journey has taken me so far.

Most of all, I’m grateful for the women who have trusted me with their stories.

They are the reason this exists, and they’re the reason I’ll keep going.