For much of my career, I served as an emergency physician and later in senior leadership roles at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC). Like many people in public health and health care, I did not view my work as just a job; it was a mission intertwined with my identity. My colleagues became friends, and the work shaped my days, my priorities, and my sense of purpose.
During my final year at CDC in 2025, I was the only career leader remaining in the Office of the Director. From that vantage point, I watched colleagues lose jobs they had devoted their careers to, and expertise built over decades at the agency disappear overnight. Programs that had taken years to build were eliminated or dramatically reduced, with consequences ranging from an inability to respond to community lead concerns to research animals being euthanized. I found myself navigating situations I never imagined, including when recommendations associated with CDC did not reflect the agency's scientific process and approach.
Professionally, these developments were difficult to handle. Personally, these actions were heartbreaking and traumatic to process. The role of leadership involves helping teams navigate change, but I was not only leading through uncertainty; I was experiencing it alongside my staff. I shared their concerns, frustrations, and, at times, their grief, while still needing to show up each day as their leader. With each challenge, I asked myself whether I could still make a difference, support my team, and help advance the agency's mission. What made the experience especially challenging was not a single decision or one day, but the accumulation of moments over time that forced me to reconsider where I could best serve while remaining aligned with my values.
Looking back, I realized one of the toughest aspects of that year was the tension between loyalty and integrity. I felt deeply loyal to CDC, to the people who worked there, and to protecting the health of individuals and communities. That commitment is the reason I stayed as long as I did. I wanted to support my colleagues, preserve important work where I could, and continue serving. But loyalty and integrity are not always the same thing, and there are moments when leaders must ask whether staying allows them to continue advancing the mission or whether their ability to do so has fundamentally changed. When I ultimately left my job at CDC, I was not walking away from the mission; I was trying to remain faithful to it while preserving the values that guided my career—integrity, service, and scientific rigor—and my identity.
I learned through my prior emergency room experiences as a physician that loss comes in many forms and that after the initial shock, the question becomes what happens next. When everything feels urgent, you shift into “triage” mode, identifying quickly what matters most. During this period of uncertainty, I found myself applying that same principle to my own life.
My title was gone, but my values, relationships, skills, and sense of purpose remained. What took longer to understand was that I was grieving more than a job; I had lost part of my identity or so I thought. What surprised me most was realizing that my sense of purpose had never been tied to a particular title or institution. It was rooted in the values and relationships that shaped my career. Conversations with former colleagues, mentors, and new partners helped me see that while the setting had changed, the work that mattered to me had not. In many ways, those relationships provided continuity during a period when much else felt uncertain. Since leaving, I have gone on to work with public health leaders, health systems, boards, technology companies, and universities where the mission is similar: improving health, strengthening trust, and helping people navigate uncertainty. I have found that this work is similarly guided by the commitment that brought me into medicine and public health in the first place.
I am still figuring out what comes next. For someone used to moving quickly from one challenge or opportunity to another, this “gray” can be an uncomfortable space. Rather than rushing toward the next title or plan, I have given myself permission to pause and reflect on a different set of questions: What work brings the greatest sense of purpose? Where can I have the most impact? What brings me joy? I do not have all the answers yet, and I am okay with that. Growth happens in the space between chapters, when we give ourselves time to reflect, reconnect with our values, and rediscover what matters most.
Not everyone reading this is focused on the next chapter. Some are still processing the loss of a position, a team, a program, or a future they planned for. Recovery from professional disruption is a uniquely individual experience and it follows no timetable, but purpose and intention can travel with you.
The values that guided me as an emergency physician, public health leader, and mentor continue to guide me today. And when uncertainty makes it difficult to see the path ahead, integrity can serve as a compass until the next chapter comes into view.