Transition Karma

Why this matters

You can’t control when a reorg, layoff, or culture clash hits—but you can control the intent you bring to it and the way you treat people on the way through. Over time, those choices shape your “transition karma,” your resilience, and the doors that open next. This story is about leading with integrity when the politics are loud, and trusting that how you move through hard seasons quietly builds the future you’ll step into.

Intent and Actions Shape Your Future

I’ve been severed three times and walked through more layoff scenarios than I can count. Each time, I had a choice: collapse into fear or move with the transition. I chose to believe that my intent and actions would shape my future. I don’t play politics well—it’s not in my DNA—but I do try to be a force for good. Again and again, when one door closed, my contributions were recognized and a new path appeared.

I’ve lived through bright, shining moments and very dark seasons. Whether you call it karma, grace, or “someone up there has my back,” my gratitude for life is overwhelming. I was raised to believe things happen for a reason and, in time, work out for the best.

Regrets are kept to a minimum. Resilience and the power of positive thinking can carry a person through almost anything. Being open to difficult times stretches you, grows you, and deepens your self‑awareness. When you learn to move with change instead of fighting it, you protect yourself from drowning in negativity.

A Few Personal Yarns of Karma and Transition

After nine years in the same hotel, my heart and soul said it was time to move on. Karma arrived as two interviews at the Westin corporate office. I was snapped up and on my way to Seattle just in time.

Over the next nine years in the corporate office, I held five roles—in Food & Beverage, Technical Services, Franchising, Legal, and Brand Management. I survived multiple reorganizations. Then the big one came: Starwood bought Westin, the Seattle office closed, and I experienced my first severance.

Bad news: after 18 years with Westin, I had no idea who I would become next. It was bone‑deep frightening. Good news: I had a year of severance to figure it out and spend my time with my three‑year‑old son.

A month later, karma knocked in the form of a former Westin VP with a consulting offer. That one call led to a ten‑year consulting practice.

When my severance pay finally ran out, another door opened: an offer to consult for an international coffee company in Seattle. I consulted for three years and was offered a full‑time role. The culture didn’t feel like a fit, but I needed the work. Anxiety spiked—until the day before my decision was due, karma called again with a new consulting role at a firm. Relief. Right place, right time. Thus, I consulted on my own and with the firm until 2010.

After the 2008–2009 financial crash, consulting work dried up. My specialty—information architecture, standards, procedures, and training—was suddenly “optional.” One of my last consulting projects was helping Starwood build a Food & Beverage University. That work reconnected me with the VP of Food & Beverage, who later became General Manager of the Walt Disney World Swan & Dolphin.

That reconnection changed everything. I was offered the opportunity of a lifetime as complex hotel manager of a 2,300‑room resort with a quarter‑billion dollars in annual revenue. I was a unicorn in a stable of stallions.

Leaving Seattle was painful on many levels, but karma was knocking just as my consulting pipeline emptied. I took the leap. Four years of joy, stress, wins, tensions, and growth followed—fantastic and frantic. Big egos and heavy politics pushed me far outside my comfort zone and forced me to grow.

After the heights of the Swan and Dolphin, it might have looked like karma skipped a beat. I was transferred to a much smaller Sheraton in St. Louis that hadn’t been renovated in 12 years and was flirting with bankruptcy. Thirty days in to my General Manager position, as the moving truck was being loaded, I was told I’d be a 90‑day “transitioning” General Manager, responsible for de‑branding the hotel—and then I’d be severed again.

That news could have broken me. Instead, after a good cry and an attitude reset, I chose to treat it as a 90‑day audition. I focused on cleanliness, guest experience, and leading well. When the severance came, I chose to see the gift: seven months off and the chance to earn a master certification in Revenue Management through eCornell.

Months later, karma knocked again. A Starwood recruiter doggedly searched for the right fit and eventually placed me with a General Manager and team in Dallas who were fully aligned with my values. Those three years were the most rewarding and fun of my hotel career—a chance to be a “force for good” every day. That role would never have happened without St. Louis, so I now see that difficult chapter as a win.

My next move was different. Karma didn’t knock; I went looking. I wanted to return to Detroit to be near my parents and family. It turned out to be the opposite of Dallas. Culture always starts at the top, and this was a masterclass in what not to do. It was painful, but it was also a gift: I learned what I truly need to thrive. Then karma arrived in an unexpected form—Covid. I volunteered to be furloughed and was eventually severed for the third time.

Through all of this, good karma has met me because I’ve made it my mission to put leaders, frontline staff, and guests at the center of my decisions. I know my political limitations and struggle to execute actions I don’t believe in. Financial and operational mandates will always create ripples across organizations. That’s exactly when leadership matters most—and when compassion and care are non‑negotiable if you want to keep your karma clean.

Your Own Transitions in Flight

If you’re reading this, you may be standing in your own moment of turbulence—a reorganization, a layoff, a promotion that doesn’t feel like a win, or a quiet knowing that it’s time to move on. You can’t control every external decision, but you can control your intent, your actions, and the story you tell yourself about what’s happening.

Ask yourself:

• Where am I fighting change instead of moving with it?

• How can I lead with integrity, even when the politics are loud?

• What small act of courage or compassion can I choose today that my future self will thank me for?

My hope is that these Yarns About Life—and the knot art they’re paired with—give you a different way to see your own transitions in flight. When you’re ready, explore more stories and artwork here on NancyPeel.com, and let them spark your next brave step forward.

From the Transitions in Flight series: stories about the in‑between seasons that quietly shape who we become.