The Hidden Grief of Redundancy: When One Chapter Ends, Another Quietly Begins
"I'm sorry, but your role has been disestablished."
I can still picture the drive home.
can still picture the drive home that afternoon. My mind wasn't thinking about CVs or interviews. It was strangely quiet. I'd just said goodbye to a role I genuinely loved and to people who had become an important part of my everyday life. I knew I'd eventually find another role. What I wasn't expecting was the grief.
There are moments in life when the ground beneath us shifts without warning.
A relationship ends.
A diagnosis arrives.
Someone we love dies.
Or we hear the words that change the rhythm of our everyday life.
"Your role has been made redundant."
As I write this, I haven't yet stepped into my next employed role.
I'm still meeting with recruiters, submitting applications, exploring opportunities and preparing for interviews. My coaching business continues to grow, and I feel deeply grateful for that, but the Executive Assistant role that I genuinely loved came to an unexpected end.
I'm still living this chapter.
I'm not writing from the finish line.
I'm writing from somewhere in the middle.
And perhaps that's why it feels important to share.
When my Executive Assistant role was made redundant, I expected to think about practical things.
Updating my CV.
Searching job boards.
Networking.
Preparing for interviews.
What I didn't expect was the grief.
Not because I'd lost all my work - I hadn't. My coaching practice remained an important part of my life but because I'd lost a role that had become woven into my everyday identity.
I was saying goodbye to people I respected, work that challenged me, routines that had become second nature and a workplace where I genuinely felt I belonged.
Like many people experiencing redundancy, I found myself grieving far more than a salary.
I was grieving a chapter of my life.
As a Relationship & Wellbeing Coach, I understood the psychology of grief. I'd supported many people through relationship breakdowns, anxiety, loss and significant life transitions.
Research consistently shows that losing a job can affect much more than our finances. It can impact our mental health, confidence, relationships and overall wellbeing. Whether redundancy occurs because of organisational change, restructuring or economic conditions, the emotional impact is often overlooked.
Research has shown that losing a job can affect much more than our finances. It can impact our mental health, confidence, relationships and overall wellbeing. Whether redundancy occurs because of organisational change, restructuring or economic conditions, the emotional impact is often overlooked.
Yet living through redundancy reminded me that understanding something professionally and experiencing it personally are two very different things.
It also made me realise how little we talk about the emotional impact of being made redundant.
Most conversations quickly move towards practical advice.
"Have you updated LinkedIn?"
"You'll find something else."
"At least you received a redundancy package."
Those conversations are well intentioned.
But they often skip over the most important part.
The human experience.
More Than the Loss of a Job
When we hear the word grief, we naturally think of losing someone we love.
Yet grief isn't limited to bereavement.
Grief is our response to losing something that mattered.
A relationship.
Our health.
A dream.
A future we had imagined.
Or a role that gave us purpose, belonging and meaning.
For many of us, work is about so much more than earning a living.
It's where we spend a significant part of our waking lives.
It's where friendships are formed over countless coffees and meetings.
Where confidence quietly grows.
Where we're challenged to solve problems, support others and contribute to something larger than ourselves.
Without realising it, our profession often becomes part of our identity.
It's woven into the answer we give when someone asks,
"What do you do?"
When that role unexpectedly disappears, it's understandable that we begin asking ourselves a much deeper question.
"Who am I now?"
Looking back over the past few months, I've realised I wasn't only grieving the loss of my role.
I was grieving the people I would no longer see each day.
The conversations in the corridor.
The familiar rhythm of my weeks.
The projects that would continue without me.
The future I had quietly assumed would unfold.
Recognising that changed everything.
It helped me understand why the emotions felt so much bigger than I expected.
Because I hadn't simply lost a job.
I'd lost a place where I belonged.
When Fear Begins to Take the Wheel
Alongside grief often comes something else.
Fear.
Fear about money.
Fear about the future.
Fear about whether another opportunity will come along.
Fear that perhaps our best working years are behind us.
Fear is an entirely understandable response.
Our brains are designed to protect us. When certainty disappears, our nervous system naturally becomes more alert. It begins scanning for danger, searching for answers and trying to regain control. Understanding how our nervous system responds to uncertainty can be surprisingly reassuring because it reminds us that many of the thoughts, emotions and physical sensations we're experiencing are normal human responses to change, not signs that something is wrong with us.
The challenge is that when we remain in a prolonged state of fear, our body often responds as though we're facing an ongoing threat.
Stress hormones remain elevated.
Sleep becomes more difficult.
Our thoughts race ahead.
Concentration suffers.
Creativity narrows.
We become more reactive and less reflective.
Ironically, the more frightened we become about finding another role, the harder it can be to think clearly about the very decisions we're trying to make.
I recognised this in myself.
There were days when my mind became consumed by "What if?"
What if this takes months?
What if I never find the right role?
What if I have to lower my expectations?
What if...?
Those questions felt real.
But I also noticed something else.
The more fearful I became, the smaller my world became.
My attention narrowed.
Everything began to revolve around one goal.
Find another job.
It felt urgent.
It felt all-consuming.
And that's when I realised something that has quietly become one of the biggest lessons of this chapter.
Before We Solve the Problem, We Need to Help Ourselves Feel Safe
One of the greatest lessons I've learned both through coaching and through my own experience is that we rarely make our best decisions when we're living in survival mode.
Redundancy has a way of triggering exactly that.
Our nervous system doesn't distinguish particularly well between uncertainty and danger.
To the body, uncertainty often feels unsafe.
When we feel unsafe, we contract.
We stop noticing possibility.
We become less creative.
Less patient.
Less connected.
Everything starts to feel urgent.
But here's what I've been discovering.
Before we ask ourselves,
"What's my next job?"
Perhaps we first need to ask,
"How can I help myself feel safe today?"
Understanding how our nervous system responds to uncertainty helped me approach this question with greater compassion. Rather than criticising myself for feeling anxious or unsettled, I began recognising these as natural responses to a significant life transition.
Not because everything has been resolved.
Not because we have certainty.
But because our mind and body need moments of steadiness if they're going to navigate uncertainty well.
That question has changed the way I've approached this entire season of my life.
Because perhaps the greatest work I've done during redundancy hasn't been finding another job.
It's been learning how to feel safe while I look for one.
Living Between Chapters
For a while, I believed that finding another role needed to become my full-time job.
Every article I read reinforced the same message.
Update your CV.
Network constantly.
Apply for as many jobs as possible.
Stay visible.
Keep pushing.
There is truth in all of that.
Finding meaningful work does require effort, consistency and persistence.
I still searched for work every day.
I met with recruiters.
I updated my CV.
I prepared carefully for interviews.
I followed up opportunities and continued investing in my professional development.
Finding my next employed role mattered to me, and it still does.
But somewhere along the way, I realised something important.
Looking for work didn't have to consume every waking hour.
Because if I wasn't careful, I could easily spend months postponing my life while waiting for the next chapter to begin.
I didn't want to look back and remember this simply as the time I was unemployed.
I wanted to remember it as a season that, despite its uncertainty, still contained joy, connection, growth and meaning.
That became a conscious choice.
Life Didn't Stop. It Simply Changed Pace.
Looking back, I've realised redundancy is a little like winter in the garden.
At first glance, it can appear that very little is happening.
Growth feels slow.
Progress is difficult to see.
Yet beneath the surface, roots continue to strengthen.
The garden isn't failing.
It's preparing for another season.
Perhaps we are too.
As I worked, something unexpected happened.
For the first time in quite a while, I wasn't thinking about job applications.
I was simply present.
It struck me how quickly we convince ourselves that life must wait until the next problem is solved.
I'll relax when I get the job.
I'll travel when things settle down.
I'll spend more time with family when work isn't so busy.
I'll enjoy life later.
Yet life keeps unfolding while we're waiting.
That afternoon in the garden became a quiet reminder that my life wasn't on hold.
It was already happening.
Since then, there have been many moments like that.
Walking Buddha along Wellington's waterfront.
Taking spontaneous road trips with my sister.
Laughing over coffee with friends.
Reconnecting with former colleagues.
Swimming in the ocean.
Writing.
Reading.
Improving my coaching website.
Spending time with my children.
Simply sitting quietly with a cup of tea and taking a few slow, deep breaths.
None of those moments found me another job.
But every one of them reminded me that I was still alive.
Still growing.
Still becoming.
Growing While Waiting
One of the unexpected gifts of this season has been something I hadn't realised I'd been missing.
Space.
For years, I'd been moving from one busy week to the next.
Like so many people, I was focused on doing my job well.
There wasn't always time to stop and ask myself a different question.
Is this still the direction I want to be heading?
Long before redundancy, I'd begun thinking about the next stage of my employed career.
I loved being an Executive Assistant.
It had given me incredible experiences, wonderful colleagues and opportunities to contribute at a high level.
But I'd also started recognising that I was ready for something more.
I found myself increasingly drawn towards leadership.
Supporting people.
Developing teams.
Creating positive workplace cultures.
Helping others thrive.
I'd been thinking about moving into a Team Leader or Manager role.
What I hadn't created was the time to properly explore what that transition might look like.
Redundancy unexpectedly gave me that opportunity.
Not because I wanted redundancy.
But because it created space to reflect more deeply on who I wanted to become professionally.
At the same time, it allowed me to invest more energy into growing my coaching practice.
Rather than seeing these two paths as competing with one another, I began seeing them as complementary.
One fulfilled my desire to lead and contribute within an organisation.
The other allowed me to continue doing deeply meaningful work supporting individuals through life's biggest transitions.
Together, they painted a picture of the future I wanted to create.
The Questions We Never Quite Get Around To Asking
I've often wondered how many of us quietly carry dreams that keep getting postponed because life feels too busy.
A different career.
Starting a business.
Further study.
Learning a language.
Travelling.
Writing a book.
Improving our health.
Spending more time with the people we love.
Not because we don't care about them.
Simply because there never seems to be enough time.
Perhaps one of the unexpected invitations hidden within periods of change is this:
If life has unexpectedly created some space, what have you been quietly longing to explore?
Not because you should completely reinvent yourself.
Not because redundancy is somehow a gift.
But because moments of transition often give us permission to ask questions we've been postponing for years.
Questions like...
What kind of work brings out the best in me?
How do I want my days to feel?
What strengths have I been longing to use more fully?
What matters most now?
Those questions rarely produce immediate answers, but they often point us in a new direction.
A Moment I'll Never Forget
As my final day approached, there were so many thoughtful gestures from colleagues. My manager had organised a beautiful farewell card filled with kind messages from the team. I also received gift vouchers from both my wider team and the Executive Assistants I had worked closely with. Then, as I was leaving for the last time, two colleagues gave me a standing ovation.
It was unexpected, deeply moving and something I'll never forget.
None of those gestures were about the card or the gifts themselves. They were a reminder that although my Executive Assistant role was ending, the relationships I'd built, the trust we'd developed and the contribution I'd made over the past four years hadn't disappeared.
In the weeks that followed, whenever self-doubt crept in, as it so often can after redundancy - I found myself returning to that moment. It reminded me that redundancy had changed my employment, but it hadn't diminished my value.
Perhaps that's something we all need to remember.
A role may come to an end, but the kindness you've shown, the relationships you've built and the positive difference you've made don't disappear with your job title. You carry those qualities, and the impact you've had on others, into whatever comes next.
Peace Before Certainty
Perhaps the greatest lesson this season has taught me is one I never expected.
For a long time, I believed peace would arrive once I found my next role.
Once I'd received the phone call.
Signed the contract.
Started the job.
Then I'd finally relax.
Then I'd breathe.
Then everything would feel okay again.
But slowly, almost without noticing, something began to change.
I realised I had been placing my peace somewhere in the future.
Waiting for circumstances to give me permission to feel calm.
Instead, I began asking myself a different question.
What if peace didn't have to wait?
For months I had unknowingly been treating peace like a destination. Something I'd arrive at once I'd secured my next role.
Then I realised something that quietly changed everything.
Peace didn't have to wait for certainty.
It could become the place I began from.
What if I could begin from a place of greater steadiness, even while life remained uncertain?
It didn't remove the uncertainty or the disappointment, and it certainly didn't stop me applying for jobs.
But it changed how I moved through each day.
Instead of living from fear and hoping for peace, I began practising peace while continuing to move forward.
Ironically, it made me more resilient.
More present.
More thoughtful.
And perhaps even more hopeful.
Because I was no longer waiting for life to begin.
I was already living it.
“The greatest work I’ve done during redundancy hasn’t been finding another job. It’s been learning how to feel safe while I look for one.”
Becoming Who You Want to Be
There have been many moments over the past few months when I've wished I could see six months into the future.
I'd love to know where I'll be working.
I'd love to know what my next leadership opportunity will be.
I'd love to know how my coaching practice will continue to grow.
Like anyone living through uncertainty, I've wanted reassurance that everything will work out.
But life rarely offers that kind of certainty.
Instead, it asks something much harder.
It asks us to trust ourselves before we know the outcome.
That isn't always comfortable.
Yet perhaps that is where real confidence begins.
Not in having all the answers.
But in believing we'll find our way, whatever those answers turn out to be.
Becoming the Person You Want to Be
One question has quietly stayed with me throughout this season.
If I don't yet know where I'll be working...
Who do I want to be while I get there?
That question has changed everything.
Because my future isn't only being shaped by the role I eventually accept.
It's also being shaped by the person I'm becoming today.
Am I becoming someone who lives from fear?
Or someone who creates moments of peace, even when life feels uncertain?
Am I becoming someone who postpones living?
Or someone who continues to notice beauty, nurture relationships and stay connected to what matters most?
Am I becoming someone who rushes through this chapter?
Or someone who allows it to teach me something?
Those questions matter.
Because one day this season will be behind me.
When I look back, I don't want to remember only the interviews, the applications and the waiting.
I want to remember who I became.
The Quiet Strength of Internal Safety
As a Relationship & Wellbeing Coach, people sometimes ask me what creates lasting change.
My answer has become much simpler than it once was.
We change most sustainably when we feel safe enough to change.
When we're living in constant survival mode, our world becomes very small.
We become focused on avoiding danger rather than recognising possibility.
But when we begin creating moments of internal safety, something shifts.
We breathe more deeply.
We think more clearly.
We become more patient with ourselves.
Our perspective widens.
We begin noticing opportunities we couldn't see when fear was driving every decision.
For me, internal safety wasn't found in one dramatic moment.
It was built quietly.
One morning walk with Buddha.
One conversation with a friend.
One afternoon in the garden.
One deep breath before opening another job website.
One coaching session.
One act of self-kindness.
One reminder that, despite the uncertainty, I was still safe in this moment.
Those moments accumulated.
Not into certainty.
Into resilience.
The Gift I Didn't Expect
If someone had asked me a year ago whether redundancy would become one of my greatest teachers, I would probably have laughed.
It's not something I would ever have chosen.
And I certainly wouldn't minimise the financial pressure, uncertainty or emotional impact it can bring.
But I can honestly say this.
This season has taught me more about myself than I expected.
It has reminded me that my worth has never been defined by my job title.
It has deepened my appreciation for the people who matter most.
It has strengthened my coaching practice.
It has given me space to reflect on the leader I want to become.
And it has shown me that peace doesn't have to wait until life becomes predictable.
Perhaps that has been the greatest lesson of all.
If You're Walking Through Your Own Season of Uncertainty
Perhaps your story isn't redundancy.
Perhaps it's divorce.
Illness.
An empty nest.
Retirement.
A relationship that's ending.
Or simply a growing sense that life is asking something different of you.
Whatever has brought you here, I'd like you to know something.
You don't have to have your entire future mapped out before you can begin living again.
You don't have to earn moments of joy.
You don't have to postpone your life until everything feels certain.
Today might simply ask this of you.
Take the walk.
Call the friend.
Plant the vegetables.
Watch the sunrise.
Read the book.
Sit quietly with a cup of tea.
Take a deep breath.
Apply for the job.
Then go back to living.
Because your life is far bigger than this one chapter.
A Gentle Reflection
As I write this, I still don't know exactly what my next employed role will be.
I'm still applying, interviewing, growing my coaching practice and preparing for leadership opportunities.
What has changed isn't my circumstances.
It's me.
I no longer believe my life begins when the next offer arrives.
It is already unfolding.
Still trusting.
But something has changed.
I no longer believe my life begins when I receive my next job offer.
It is already unfolding.
In conversations with friends.
In time spent with my family.
In quiet walks with Buddha.
In mornings in the garden.
In strengthening my coaching practice.
In becoming the leader I'm preparing to be.
There is a simple phrase I've returned to often during this season.
Thank you for the peace.
Not because everything has been resolved.
But because I've discovered that peace doesn't have to wait until uncertainty disappears.
It can become the place from which we begin.
And perhaps that's what redundancy has been teaching me all along.
Not simply how to find another role.
But how to trust myself while I find my way.
Perhaps that's what this season has really been teaching me - not simply how to find another role, but how to remain myself while life is asking me to change.
Maybe your next opportunity isn't the only thing waiting to be discovered. Perhaps a new version of yourself is quietly emerging too.
About the Author
Nicole Wijngaarden is a Wellington-based Relationship & Wellbeing Coach with over 10 years of experience helping adults, young people and couples navigate life's challenges with greater confidence, clarity and compassion.
She specialises in relationship health, stress and anxiety, separation and divorce, grief, emotional regulation and life transitions. Nicole's coaching combines evidence-informed approaches, including HeartMath®, Neuro-Linguistic Programming (NLP) and other proven coaching approaches with practical strategies that help clients better understand themselves, strengthen resilience and create lasting, meaningful change.
Nicole offers coaching in person from Capital Sports Medicine in Wellington CBD, online throughout New Zealand and internationally, as well as Walk & Talk Coaching along Wellington's beautiful waterfront and Botanic Garden.
Nicole believes that everyone has the capacity to grow when they feel safe, understood and supported.
Ready for Personalised Support?
Redundancy is about far more than losing a job. It can affect your confidence, identity, relationships and sense of direction, often in ways you don't expect.
If this article resonated with you, you don't have to navigate this chapter alone.
Coaching provides a confidential, compassionate space to process what has happened, strengthen your emotional wellbeing and move forward with greater clarity, confidence and hope.
Whether you're navigating redundancy, organisational change or another significant life transition, I'd be honoured to support you.
Book a coaching session today and take the next step towards your next chapter.
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How to Stay Grounded During Organisational Change and Uncertainty
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Why Walk & Talk Coaching Works
Why Your Nervous System Matters More Than Willpower When You're Trying to Change Your Life (Coming Soon)
📚 Recommended Book
Transitions – William Bridges
One of the most respected books on navigating life's transitions. Bridges explains the psychological process of endings, uncertainty and new beginnings in a compassionate and practical way—making it an excellent companion to this article.
https://www.williambridges.com/transitions/
🎥 TED Talk
Emily Esfahani Smith – There's More to Life Than Being Happy
A thoughtful TED Talk exploring meaning, resilience and how we find purpose during life's most challenging seasons.
https://www.ted.com/talks/emily_esfahani_smith_there_s_more_to_life_than_being_happy
🔬 Trusted Resource
Employment New Zealand
If you're navigating redundancy, Employment New Zealand provides practical guidance on employment rights, redundancy processes and workplace obligations.
