Hey Everyone,
I’m truly delighted to welcome Tiandra—past podcast guest and soon to be featured again in Season 7—as my guest writer for this month.
🎧 Catch her first episode here
Her piece maps the grief of early career disillusionment, the leap to Uruguay, and the sudden groundlessness of job loss. But through each shift, Tiandra doesn’t just pivot; she expands. She reveals how what falls away can become the very foundation for a new perspective, a deeper identity, and a life more fully aligned.
This essay is not only about geography and migration; it’s about inner territory. About the identities we leave behind, the resilience we build in transition, and the beauty we find when we choose to stay and try again.
Be Well,
Christine
When the Ground Falls Away: Pivot, Again and Again
When I realized that pursuing my physics degree with the hope of becoming an astronomer wasn’t going to pan out, I pivoted. I considered which degree would give me the best chance of finding work and building a career abroad. I had the itch. Then I wasn’t sure how real moving abroad was. I only knew I wanted to leave the U.S. I wanted a different life, and where I was certainly wasn’t it. So, I chose a degree that could open doors anywhere.
It’s hard to believe I had that foresight all those years ago.
Fast forward four years, 2017, and my dream to move abroad was actually happening. After earning my bachelor’s degree in finance, I spent my post-grad years as a real estate agent. Since selling was challenging, I simultaneously took a part-time job at a local bank to gain more experience. Two weeks before the big move, I resigned my real estate license and left the bank. I had no job lined up in Uruguay, but I was confident that with my education and experience, I’d likely find something soon enough.
I did my homework before moving and understood that the tech industry was growing in Uruguay and that more likely than not, I’d end up working in tech in some way or another. Not to mention, it was the best option for finding remote work primarily in English and with higher salaries. Four months into living in my new home, I landed a job as a business development representative (BDR) for a martech company, headquartered in Chicago. It wasn’t finance, but my business school degree definitely played a part in opening that door.
What a relief to find work with decent pay, benefits, and a great work environment. I took the bus for thirty minutes, Monday through Friday (weekends were mine), to the office. Yep, my first job wasn’t remote. I worked with nearly twenty others, mainly from Uruguay and a few from Argentina. It was my first-hand experience in how Uruguayans approached work. I loved the environment instantly.
I learned the culture quickly. Every morning, I’d greet everyone. (It’s kind of rude if you don’t.) I’d go upstairs, make my coffee, have a little chat with my coworkers, and then start my day. There was no rush, no hurry. When lunchtime approached, we all sat down together and ate.
I slowly grew close to the other BDR, who would become my first best friend in Uruguay. In the U.S. work culture, you don’t go to work to make friends. I’d never allowed anyone I worked with to get close to me, let alone invite them to my home. But Uruguay, as I quickly learned, was different, and I wasn’t going to let my experience with U.S work culture define my new life abroad. She and I, seven years later, remain the best of friends, and through her, I later met others who were pivotal in my career growth and success. I made several friends at that job, and we’re still friends today. Without them, dealing with my transition to Uruguay and my eventual job loss would have been a struggle. Through them and then my partner, with whom I moved, I had a soft spot to land.
One day, out of nowhere, my best friend and I were let go. No warning, no notice. And the day before Uruguayan Labor Day — the audacity! I was still in the process of obtaining my permanent residence, which required proof of work, making the blow even more substantial. I loved that job, I enjoyed the people I worked with, and it deeply hurt to be let go in that manner. I did receive severance, and as a formal Uruguayan employee, six months of unemployment, starting at the top of my salary and decreasing each month.
I was out of work for an entire year. I put in countless applications, got active on LinkedIn, and told everyone I was looking for work. It’s amazing how helpful the people of Uruguay can be; people I barely knew would forward my resume, tell me about job openings, and put in a good word for me. That’s how it works here; it’s not what you know, it’s who you know, and that rings true here when it comes to finding work.
As I was closing in on my next opportunity, the pandemic hit; all hiring stopped. But it was during the pandemic that I shifted from sales and business development to professional writing. I landed my next two roles, writing for an Uruguayan marketing agency and a U.S. swimming pool company, thanks to friends who pointed me in the right direction. Both opportunities led to my official career pivot into writing.
My life as a professional writer grew. While working at both places, I took on short-term freelance projects that challenged me and broadened my experience. Not only did I write professionally, but I also became a content strategist. I improved my skills and gained knowledge that would only enhance my appeal as a professional. Many of them I gain by attending free webinars, workshops, and online courses.
Having and building an online presence was what made me more visible to others. It’s how I landed my first job and subsequently my second. LinkedIn is a game of strategy when it comes to finding the right people who’ll lead you to the right opportunities. I also built my portfolio to showcase that I’m not only knowledgeable in what I do, but I also achieve results.
The next job I landed was as a part-time copywriter at a nearshore software development company, with a much higher salary —one I’d been striving for over the last four years. That role gave me what I needed to elevate my professional standing further. And then out of nowhere, a year after working there and a month after being signed on full-time, they terminated my role and most of the marketing department.
This job loss hurt more than the first. I’d barely established myself in my new apartment and finally felt as though I’d found financial stability with the hopes for financial freedom to follow. I had a little savings and still had one client who brought in cash flow. But it wasn’t enough. The job loss came at a time when the job market was going up in smoke, and the hiring boom we all experienced during the pandemic and following years had burst.
A job loss while living abroad, as a recently single person living on your own, tears down your self-esteem, confidence, and sense of security. Without a steady income, the possibility of packing up my established life in Uruguay was real. I started my job search and reflected on which direction to go; what I wanted to reach for next. It was another opportunity to pivot, which by this point I was no stranger to. I treated the job search as a job itself and spent my days networking, cleaning up my resume, LinkedIn, and portfolio. I applied for remote writing and marketing positions in Latin America (LATAM) and the U.S., sending nearly 120 applications and joining multiple job boards. I had fewer than ten first interviews, getting to the second and third rounds with some, only to be ghosted or ignored when I asked if the positions had been filled.
Rejection after rejection only made me fall into deeper despair. I was an experienced professional who couldn’t get jobs for which I was largely qualified. One day, I looked at my account to see how much time I had left…three months. Three months’ worth of savings is all I had. I spiraled. Depression settled in. I slowly lost hope, motivation, and joy. Those months were some of the darkest I’ve encountered while living in Uruguay, and trust me, I’ve had a few. Anything that threatened my life in Uruguay was something I could hardly bear. My family and friends, my community, where would I be without them? They stepped in to support me anyway they could, sending money, buying my groceries, feeding me, getting me out of the house, letting me vent, and giving me the space to grieve. They knew how much this place meant to me. Six years is a long time to live in a new place, far from your family and everything you’ve always known. I’d come so far that the idea of packing up my whole life and returning to the northern hemisphere felt like defeat, not necessarily failure.
I was burnt out. I looked for work Monday through Friday for four months. The fifth month, Spirit told me to stop looking for work. I didn’t know what to think, because if I’m not looking for work, how would I get work? It was counterintuitive. But the Lord provides, and I’d been tirelessly putting in all the work I could on my end; I had to let go and let God. And so I did. I began to focus on working my way out of depression and getting my self-esteem and happiness back. What kept my toes on the ground was the blessing of waking up in Uruguay every day, and as long as I was still here, I was grateful. The worst had not yet come to pass. I took small actions to lift my spirits and slowly came out of the darkness.
Then the email came. One of the job boards I submitted my resume to wanted to present my profile to a client. The role was a content manager position at an AI start-up in the U.S., and the pay was right in line with what I wanted and what I rightfully deserved. After two interviews and my first salary negotiation, I received an offer and accepted on the spot. I had less than two hundred dollars in my account that day. The relief and tears could not be held back. I was safe for a while longer; Uruguay would remain my home. In those five months, I braced for the worst while doing all that I could to improve my chances for the best. Now six months into my new job, and I couldn’t be happier. Rejection truly is redirection. I have more savings than I’ve ever had; not only finding stability, but also financial freedom.
Living abroad is not for the faint of heart. Finding and maintaining employment is a challenge. It shapes not just how you live abroad, but how secure you feel while doing so. My journey wasn’t just about finding work — it was about building my career and professional identity, something that would’ve looked vastly different had I stayed stateside. Through all the ups and downs, choosing to live in Uruguay has allowed me to become the person I am today: resilient, adaptable, and grateful for every challenge that taught me to thrive. And I’ve done it while pursuing something that was once only a dream.
I left the U.S. in search of a different kind of life. What I found instead was a different kind of self — one who knows that security isn’t a paycheck, it’s the people who hold you up when the ground falls away.
About the Author
Tiandra Burns has found her home in Uruguay. As a writer and immigrant, she explores the experience of living abroad through the lens of wellness. Rooted in spiritual practices like yoga and meditation, she shares reflections on resilience, balance, and what it means to create a sense of home wherever you are.
📍 Connect with Tiandra on LinkedIn
📺 Watch a recent interview about Tiandra’s life in Uruguay