Recently, I’ve met more clients who have lost their jobs.
Sometimes they’ve been made redundant. Sometimes they’ve found themselves out of work after years in the same organisation. And sometimes, the job they thought would provide security has simply disappeared.
What has struck me is that the conversation often starts with work but doesn’t stay there for very long.
Because losing a job isn’t always just about losing an income.
For some people, it’s about losing a sense of who they are.
I’ve heard clients say things like, “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.”
Not just what job should I apply for?
But what am I doing with my life?
There can be something unsettling about that question.
For years, work may have provided structure. There was somewhere to be, something to achieve, people to see and a reason to get up in the morning. Perhaps there was a sense of progression too. A promotion to work towards. A title that brought a sense of identity. A feeling that all the effort was leading somewhere.
And then suddenly, it’s gone.
The practical worries are obvious. Money. Bills. Finding another job. Updating the CV. Preparing for interviews.
But underneath those things, there can be a much quieter grief.
Who am I if I’m no longer doing this?
I think this can be particularly difficult when someone has spent many years being good at what they do.
When work has been an important part of their identity, losing it can feel strangely personal. It can bring up questions about achievement, success and whether the years spent working towards something have actually meant what they thought they meant.
And then there is the pressure to know what comes next.
It can feel as though redundancy should immediately create an opportunity.
Perhaps this is your chance to do something you’ve always wanted to do.
Maybe it’s time for a change.
There can be some truth in that.
But I wonder if we sometimes move too quickly towards finding the positive.
Sometimes, before someone can work out what they want next, they need some space to acknowledge what they’ve lost. In psychosynthesis, I’ve found it helpful to think about the different parts of ourselves that can become active during times like this.
There might be the part that wants to urgently find another job and restore a sense of security.
The part that feels embarrassed or worries about what other people will think.
The part that says, I should have seen this coming.
And perhaps another part that has been quietly wondering for some time whether the life they’ve built still feels meaningful.
Losing a job can sometimes bring that question into sharper focus.
Is this really what I want to spend the next ten years doing?
What matters to me now?
If I didn’t have to prove anything to anyone, what would I choose?
These aren’t always comfortable questions.
And there isn’t necessarily a quick answer.
Perhaps purpose isn’t something we find by immediately choosing the right job. Perhaps sometimes it begins with noticing what has been lost, what has changed, and what no longer fits.
I’ve noticed that clients can be surprisingly hard on themselves during this period.
They can interpret uncertainty as failure.
But being uncertain about what comes next doesn’t mean you’ve lost your direction.
Sometimes it means you’re paying attention.
A job can give us purpose, but it doesn’t have to be the only place we find it.
There can be purpose in relationships, creativity, learning, caring for others, contribution, community, or simply having the space to live differently.
Perhaps losing a job doesn’t always mean we have lost our purpose. Sometimes it gives us the opportunity to ask a question we had been too busy to ask before.
What do I actually want my life to be about?
And perhaps that question, although difficult, is worth taking some time to listen to.
