You are not your job title…
Something unfamiliar happens about two or three weeks after redundancy. Its subtle. Its unassuming and it’s something that creeps up without you even noticing, until you do.
Up until that point you were busy with meetings, reading documents, following up calls and deciding the final details of your redundancy.
It happened somewhere around the 2-to-4-week mark for me.
The meetings have happened.
The calls and messages have slowed.
You've dabbled a little with LinkedIn.
You've had coffee with a friends and possibly family members.
You tell everyone you're "fine."
On the surface, it looks as though you're moving forward.
But then something changes.
The days become quieter, without noticing
The inbox that controlled your day is silent.
The phone doesn't ring as often.
People who promised to "meet up soon" are back at work, back in meetings, back in routines that no longer include you.
Not because they've stopped caring.
Because life has moved on.
And that's often the moment when redundancy stops feeling like a job loss and starts feeling like something much harder to describe.
You begin to lose your base.
For many of us, work is far more than a salary.
It gives us structure.
Purpose.
Routine.
Connection.
Belonging.
It answers one of the first questions we're asked when we meet someone new.
"So, what do you do?"
When that answer disappears, it can leave a space much bigger than we expected.
It's easy to believe there's something wrong with you for feeling this way.
There isn't.
You're grieving.
Not only the loss of a role, but the loss of familiarity, identity, confidence, belonging and certainty.
That's why simply telling someone to "stay positive" or "start applying for jobs" often misses the point.
You can't rebuild your future if you're still trying to understand what you've lost.
This newsletter exists because redundancy isn't just a professional experience.
It's a human one. And I think that is what is missing. The business decision affects the person, the individual, the human emotions.
There are thousands of people nervously navigating the same questions, the same uncertainty and the same emotions. In silence.
If that's where you are today, I hope this becomes somewhere you can return to each week.
Not for quick fixes.
Not for unrealistic motivation.
But for honest conversations about what redundancy really feels like, and how, step by step, you begin to rebuild.
Because you are still here.
And that means your story isn't over.
It's simply entering a new chapter that you are not familiar with, trained for or recognise.
Lets be honest, nobody talks about redundancy as a “thing”. There is no preparation, no training. So when it hits, it hits hard. That’s ok, you are here now.
We'll navigate it together.
Before you go...
If this newsletter resonated with you, I'd like you to spend just five quiet minutes with these questions.
Don't worry about finding the "right" answers. Just notice what where your thoughts are.
1. What part of my working life do I miss the most?
2. Is it the job itself, or what the job gave me?
3. When was the last time I felt like me, rather than just my job title?
4. What is one small thing I could do this week that has nothing to do with job searching, but helps me reconnect with myself?
You don't need to solve everything this week.
You only need to be aware.
Because rebuilding doesn't start when you receive your next job offer.
It starts the moment you begin reconnecting with who you are beyond your job title.
Next week: Why losing your job can feel like losing part of yourself, and why that's a completely human response.
I'm Cassandra, founder of The Vent Garden. I've supported people through change from both sides of the workplace, and this newsletter is a space for honest conversations about redundancy, identity and rebuilding after career change.
