The Author on The Finestere Camino
A year ago, the life plan I had spent decades building disappeared almost overnight. In my late fifties, I found myself unemployed, disoriented, and facing an uncertain future.
The career I thought would carry me to retirement vanished in a matter of weeks, taking with it my professional identity, my sense of direction, and the certainty that comes from believing in your life plan taking you where you are going next.
Fires Set, Life in Ash
American government transitions are usually uneventful—more a shift in tone than a demolition. This one was different. From day one, it was clear that disruption was the focus.
The U.S. Agency for International Development (USAID), where I had built a long and meaningful career, was rapidly dismantled by the incoming president. With fewer than 5,000 full-time American employees and a mission focused on international poverty reduction and humanitarian assistance, USAID was an easy test case. The new administration moved with shocking speed—freezing programs, dismantling systems, firing staff and redirecting funding with a chainsaw rather than a scalpel.
Ripping down the institution became the kindling for a much larger fire with global impact. More than 200,000 people worldwide—contractors, local staff, and support workers—lost their jobs. Nearly 20,000 of them were in the United States. I was one of them.
Elon Musk’s special mandate to cut government “waste” continued across the government resulting in a crude hack job whose repercussions will be felt for generations. For those of us inside the system, it wasn’t abstract policy—it was livelihoods erased, expertise discarded, and a lifetime of work abruptly invalidated.
When the Plan Disappears
I never expected to find myself unemployed with few prospects in my late fifties.
Until January 2025, I was in the final phase of a long, rewarding international career. My life plan laid out a clear glide path toward retirement and I was on that path. I could see the light at the end of the tunnel—until it was suddenly snuffed out.
For months, I was devastated. Even after taking time to recover and walking my first solo Camino, I felt unmoored. Job prospects were scarce, rejection was constant, and the entire sector I had worked in for decades was reeling from the sudden withdrawal of USAID.
I needed structure. Direction. A reason to get up and move forward. However starting over—really starting over—felt overwhelming.
Eventually, at the urging of friends, I decided to try something I’d never seriously considered before: building a Camino guiding and planning business. The idea was simple on the surface—turn a passion into a livelihood. In reality, it meant letting go of an identity I’d carried for more than twenty years.
Reinvention Is Not A Screenplay
I wasn’t new to entrepreneurship. Over the years, I’d launched several initiatives, including a consulting practice in international development. I knew how to present expertise and market experience.
The travel industry was an entirely different world.
I quickly learned that “travel” isn’t one thing. It’s a set of tightly defined markets aimed at specific clients. I had chosen the adventure and outdoor travel space – and I didn’t fit the standard profile. I wasn’t a young, fearless, adrenaline-seeking explorer chasing remote terrain. I was a middle-aged woman who loved long Camino walks that meandered through well travelled countries and featured history, architecture and culture.
To complicate things further, the Camino attracts travelers who are often self-guided and budget-conscious. While the market is growing, and Camino guiding and planning services are in demand, the uphill climb—financially and professionally—is real.
Reinvention, it turns out, is less “phoenix rising” and more slow, uncertain reconstruction.
Where I Stand Now
Today, I’m building an audience and sharing my experience through social media. In the process, I’ve expanded my Camino community and connected with others who are equally passionate about the journey. I’m exploring Camino guiding opportunities through established companies while continuing to shape my own path.
Most importantly, I feel engaged again.
That matters more than I expected. Work isn’t just income—it’s identity, rhythm, and purpose. I’m slowly redefining myself through sharing the Camino with others.
I have often followed the advice to “follow your passion.” Initially that passion took the form of a career in international development and humanitarian aid—work that let me explore the world, learn from diverse cultures, and contribute to meaningful projects. I built a global community of friends and colleagues who are now, like me, finding their way through unexpected endings.
What I’m learning is this: passion doesn’t disappear when a chapter ends in your life plan. It changes shape. The skills I spent decades building—organization, planning, leadership, adaptability—travelled with me, even after the route map I was following was torn up.
I don’t know exactly where this new path will lead. But I’m moving again. And after the rug is pulled, that may be the most important lesson of all.
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