You Lost the Job. Now What?

What No One Prepares You For

& What Comes Next

Layoffs are everywhere again. Corporate restructurings. Tech cuts. Thousands of women facing unexpected transitions; some burned out, others blindsided. Most asking: Now what?  I’ve been there. And I want to share what I wish I had known, not just about rebuilding a résumé or finding a new job, but about how that moment changed the course of my life.

The layoff came in February 2009 – early morning, a quick phone call, and then silence. One minute, I was part of a high-performing sales team in a major investment firm. The next, I was sitting in a home office alone in Maine, watching my BlackBerry stop buzzing and my calendar go blank. The decision wasn’t a surprise. The markets were collapsing. Rumors had been swirling. I even knew my territory was likely to be absorbed by more senior peers. But still, when it happens to you, the logic doesn’t soften the blow.

I told myself it was just business. But the truth? It was personal. I was angry. Not just disappointed. Not just afraid. I was furious. Because after everything I had done – years of hard work, late nights, constant travel, missed family time - I still got the call.

The Truth No One Tells You

I thought I had done everything right. I followed the rules. I worked hard. I made the sacrifices. And yet, there I was rejected and disconnected. That’s what they don’t tell you about layoffs. They frame it as a pivot, a restructure, a business decision. But when it’s you, those words feel hollow. Especially if you’re a woman who’s built her identity on doing everything perfectly.

It doesn’t just feel like a setback. It can feel like shame. Like confusion. Like sitting in your house in the middle of the day, staring at the walls, wondering how the life you were building disappeared overnight. The grieving starts before you even realize what’s happening. And that part? That part never makes it to LinkedIn, but it’s real.

And for women, it hits harder:

• 1 in 4 women will be laid off at some point in their career (LinkedIn)

• After a layoff, women take 22% longer than men to find a new job (Harvard Business Review)

• And we’re 24% less likely than men to speak confidently about our accomplishments (Lean In)

These stats reflect something more personal. Job loss doesn’t just hit your wallet—it unsettles your identity, your worth, your place in the world.

Women are often conditioned to stay grateful, go along, and not make waves. When a layoff happens, we’re more likely to internalize it than challenge it. For many of us, we don’t just feel unemployed, we feel unworthy. We pull back from our networks and struggle to talk about our experience without shrinking ourselves in the process. 

The longer job search isn’t always about the market. Sometimes, it’s about the silence that follows, the erosion of confidence. That fear, that you’re somehow too much, or still not enough, can creep in quietly. But it’s real and many of us have felt it too.

The Real Fallout

The layoff wasn’t even the hardest part. What hit me harder was what followed: the silence, the disorientation, the voice in my head asking, “If you were really that good, wouldn’t they have kept you?” I kept replaying the what-ifs. Wondering who stood up for me. Who didn’t. Even with severance, even with support, I spiraled. I felt embarrassed. I felt exposed. And I couldn’t bring myself to be honest about it, not to others, and not even to myself.

The grief crept in quietly. There was no big breakdown, no dramatic unraveling. Just long stretches of stillness. Sleeping too much. Sleeping too little. Forgetting what day it was. Losing track of time and, sometimes, of myself. It took a while to see it clearly, but I wasn’t just grieving the loss of a job. I was letting go of:

• A version of myself I thought I had to be

• A pace I thought I had to maintain

• An identity built on performance, not presence

That kind of grief doesn’t move on a schedule. It lives in the body. It takes its time. And it often brings old wounds to the surface, the ones we never gave ourselves space to feel.

How I Found My Way Forward

The job I had lost wasn’t just about paychecks or prestige; it had given me something I didn’t realize I relied on: structure. Every day had a purpose. A schedule. A reason to get out the door. I was constantly in motion – commuting, traveling, producing, proving.

When that structure fell away, so did my sense of direction. I felt scattered. Foggy. Unfocused. I told myself I was lazy, but that wasn’t true. Even though I didn’t realize it then, what I was feeling were trauma responses: freeze, collapse, shutdown. Without knowing it, I had tied my worth to constant doing. The layoff interrupted that pattern.

And in that interruption, I started to hear something new: my own voice.

I gave myself a break, not out of wisdom, but out of necessity. I moved back home to Massachusetts. I planned my wedding. I stopped pretending everything was fine. And then I started looking for work again. But something had changed. This time, I was clear. I wanted a stable salary, not a commission check tied to someone else’s decisions. I needed to be home, not living out of hotels. I wanted to be around people again, not alone in a car all day. And I wanted work that felt like mine, not just the next rung on the ladder.

I was the kid who loved watching “how things are made” segments on Mr. Rogers more than cartoons. I didn’t know it then, but I was already fascinated by systems; by the invisible processes that make things work. Years later, that curiosity pointed me toward retail. I didn’t have industry experience. But I knew I was fascinated by what made products successful, how they reached shelves, what customers noticed and what they didn’t. That pull led me to apply, and eventually land, a role in a corporate retail office.

Did it make sense on paper to pivot into the retail industry? Probably not. Did it fit my résumé perfectly? No. But it fit me. And that was new. That single step led to a whole new chapter. One that included supply chain, merchandising, operations, and eventually, technology and leadership. A chapter I never could’ve written if I had stayed on the old path.

What I Wish More Women Knew

Let me say this as plainly as I can: If you’ve been laid off and you feel like your identity just collapsed, you’re not crazy. You’re not dramatic. You’re not broken. You’re human. If you’re where I was, here’s what I wish someone had told me when everything went quiet. 

Grief is part of it. You didn’t just lose a paycheck. You lost rhythm, identity, safety. Let yourself mourn. Freezing is not failure. If you feel shut down, unfocused, numb - that’s your nervous system protecting you. You’re not broken. You’re not starting over. You’re beginning again, with truth this time. Rest is resistance. Especially for women raised to prove and please. Slowing down is an act of reclaiming. Let the silence speak. There’s wisdom in the stillness. Don’t rush to fill it.

When You’re Ready to Rebuild—Start Here

In some way, shape or form you’ve probably spent your whole life being told not to take up too much space. So, when you’re suddenly pushed out of one, it’s hard to remember how to stand tall again. Here’s what helped me, and what I hope helps you:

Stop minimizing what happened. This was a big deal. Even if it’s happening to “a lot of people.” Even if your friends tell you you’re lucky to have time off. You’re allowed to be upset.

Grieve what you lost. Yes, the paycheck. But also the structure. The purpose. The friendships. The version of yourself that was built for that job.

Get honest about what wasn’t working. For me, it was the constant travel. The isolation. The unsustainable pace. The layoff didn’t just end something, it revealed something.

Learn how to talk about yourself again. If you’ve been in the same industry or role for years, it can be hard to describe what you actually do well. The book Brag Better by Meredith Fineman will help you realize that talking about your strengths isn’t arrogance. It’s self-respect.

Choose what success means now. Not five years ago. Not based on someone else’s path. Ask yourself: What do I want more of? What do I refuse to tolerate again? What part of me do I want to reclaim?

You Get to Choose What Comes Next

I didn’t write this to tell you how to bounce back. I wrote it because no one told me how normal it is to fall apart. You don’t have to rush your comeback story. You just have to be honest about where you are—and willing to rebuild on your own terms.

What if success isn’t about pushing harder or shouting louder? What if it looks like trusting your natural pace, asking for help, reclaiming your voice, working with purpose, and resting when you need to?

That’s the kind of success I’m building now. And it started the day everything I thought defined me fell away.