Life after layoffs
A few weeks ago, my role at Thinkific was eliminated through an org-wide restructure. It's the second time in five years I've been laid off. And I’m not alone — there are thousands of us out there, these days, going through this same experience. Since I’ve spent a lot of my career helping other people find the right words, I thought I’d try to find a few for those of us in it now.
What nobody tells you
It’s grief, even when it’s business. In a single meeting, often a matter of seconds, your teammates, your projects, and your to-do list are gone, because you were a number on someone’s spreadsheet that had to go so the other numbers would work. The math is business. How fast and final it is feels personal.
Your job title was more important than you thought. At every dinner or barbecue, someone always asks, “So, what do you do?” Suddenly you don’t have an easy answer. You’re on a career break? Exploring your options? It’s surprising how much of who you are was tied to what you did.
The panic is real. Immediately you feel like you're behind the unemployment eight ball. Update your resume! Apply to everything! Turn on the open-to-work banner! And it's true that while staying busy can help, it's also just an excuse to avoid your feelings. While you'll need to feel, to start healing.
What's helping me
Taking back the small decisions. A layoff is a decision someone else makes about you. So I'm taking my agency back and making my own decisions wherever I can: how my days are structured, what books I'm reading, which roles I go after, what social commitments I say yes to.
Making things. I rebuilt my website, restarted my blog, and picked up an old crochet project. Being a maker didn't stop when my access badge stopped working, and doing creative work reminds me I'm still very, very good. At all of it.
Staying connected. Former colleagues have reached out. I’ve chatted with people I haven’t talked to in years. And I’m pouring time into my family. Every one of those connections matters more than any of those people probably know. They knew me before the job and they still know me after the loss. They help remind me who I am, and why I matter.
Being present. Ignoring the fact that you’re hurt, exhausted, scared, angry, and (probably) more burnt out than you even knew will not make any of those things go away. Sit with the feelings. Name them. It’s okay not to be okay. And breathe. Don’t forget to breathe.
What's next
For me? This looks like staying open to what might come next: full-time, contract, or fractional, somewhere my work makes a direct difference.
I'm also asking myself questions that I haven't had time to ask in forever. Should I learn a new language? Try making sourdough? (Still no.) Explore photography? Write a book? If you’re in it too, give yourself permission to ask the same questions. There are no wrong answers. Do what fuels you. Say no to what doesn't.
And in case you need a few more words than mine, here are a few more wise ones that might help:
“Everything will be okay in the end. If it's not okay, it’s not the end.” — Domingos Sabino, via his son Fernando Sabino
Comments