Nicola Elliott
If life is a long, wobbly round of golf, redundancy is the shank you never saw coming – one minute you’re safely in the fairway of routine, the next you’re knee-deep in rough wondering what just happened to your job, your plans and your confidence.
Losing work is a heavy blow at the best of times. Your income drops, your daily structure disappears, and your sense of who you are can feel like it’s gone down the drain with your staff login. It’s not just a financial event – it’s an emotional one, and it lands squarely in the middle of your mental health.
“Redundancy can have a huge impact on mental health and trigger a range of mental health issues. It may cause feelings of worry, anxiety, stress and depersonalisation. It may impact your sleep and confidence. You may also feel a loss similar to a bereavement,” says Babylon therapist Dr Helen Rutherford.
Behind the numbers and HR letters are very real people trying to sleep at night, worrying about bills, and wondering what on earth comes next.
Why redundancy feels like a personal earthquake
For many of us, work isn’t just where we go – it’s who we are.
New research by mental wellness platform Modern Health has found that a third of people who suddenly find themselves out of work say they’ve felt more stress and anxiety recently than any other time in their life, while 50% of those surveyed say they’re finding it difficult to sleep as a result of financial worries, and 83% are feeling a loss of control.
@chloerobynwilson Hello #redundancy 😢❤️💪🏼 #dubai #abudhabi #expat ♬ original sound – Chloe | Life in Abu Dhabi
Feeling secure and well-provided for is a basic human need, says psychiatrist Dr Andrew Iles, of the Priory Wellbeing Centre in Oxford.
“Anything which seeks to undermine that is likely to cause us to feel worried, depressed and fearful,” he says. “Jobs define us all; for those of us who have children, it is one way we perform our duty of being a role model. Losing one’s job can lead to feelings of embarrassment and shame, or the fear that other people might see us as unsuccessful.”
So if redundancy has left you feeling embarrassed, panicked, or strangely numb, that doesn’t mean you’re weak or overreacting – it means you’re human.
Let yourself grieve the job you’ve lost
We’re used to talking about grief when someone dies or a relationship ends. But when the thing you’ve lost is your job, your desk and your colleagues, the psychological mechanics are surprisingly similar.
“Grief is the price we pay for loving someone, or investing our feelings heavily in a job or a business. If you gain from being close, or heavily invested in something, you grieve when that is taken away,” says Priory mental health expert, Dr Paul McLaren.
And this isn’t something we need to be ashamed of or worry isn’t normal. “Grief is not an illness; it’s a natural process of psychological adjustment to the loss of a significant part of our lives. It is not about forgetting either, or ‘just moving on’. It’s about how we come to live with a loss, and build our lives around the hole that is left.”
Bereavement counsellor Lianna Champ, author of How To Grieve Like A Champ, explains: “We value our work for a number of reasons – self-worth, it pays the bills, it gives us a purpose, we get a sense of achievement, and we often spend more time with our colleagues than our family.”
After redundancy, she says, “we need to grieve the loss for our normal routines and all that is familiar, as well as grieving for our friends and colleagues in the workplace.”
That grief can show up as anger, shock, bargaining (“If only I’d…”) or despair, before you inch towards acceptance. None of those stages are wrong, and you don’t move through them in a neat line – it’s more like a badly drawn scorecard with scribbles everywhere.
What to do in the immediate aftermath
When redundancy hits, the temptation can be to clam up, lash out, or pretend you’re fine while quietly falling apart. That stiff upper lip might look impressive, but it’s not much help to your nervous system.
Firstly, talk.
“Sharing your feelings is central to grieving,” says McLaren. “It’s OK to feel sad. It’s OK to remember the good times. Don’t pretend to yourself or others that it doesn’t matter. Let them know it does. Watch out for denial.”
Tell a partner, a friend, a trusted colleague, or a professional what’s actually going on inside your head. Saying “I’m terrified” out loud often takes some of the sting out of it – a bit like finally looking at a nasty lie of the land instead of guessing where the bunker is.
Next, take care of your basics: food, sleep, and movement. This isn’t the moment to live on crisps and caffeine.
Champ says: “Take some ‘me time’. Spend time with people you love and do things that make you feel good about yourself.”
That might mean walking, exercising, reading something that isn’t about jobs, or simply having a proper shower and getting dressed each morning even if there’s nowhere you have to be.
And be ruthless about unhelpful coping mechanisms. Numbing out with endless scrolling, excess alcohol or late-night doom-searching rarely makes tomorrow’s 3 am wake-up any easier.
“It’s really challenging not to take it personally, especially if we’ve been committed and have given 100% to our job. Self-doubt can creep in and make the future seem hopeless. [But] don’t let something bad make you lose sight of all that you have and all that you are,” she says.
From redundancy to reset: practical ways to move on
Once the first emotional shock of redundancy has eased a little, the next step is to gently turn towards the future – and that starts with getting practical.
1. Get your money picture clear
The loss of income may mean you need to look at support options, tighten your budget, or speak to organisations like Citizens Advice if you’re unsure what financial help you’re entitled to or how to apply for it.
It’s not glamorous, but knowing what’s coming in and going out can feel surprisingly calming. Uncertainty is brutal; information is grounding.
2. Build some structure into your days
That gaping space where your workday used to be can feel endless. Instead of seeing it as a void, Champ suggests treating it as a framework you can slowly rebuild.
“Factor your future planning into each day and have a structure,” suggests Champ. “This will put meaning into your day and will create a sense of having done something positive. Sometimes, being forced out of our comfort zone can be just the kick we need.
“Look at your contacts list and begin networking. Build on your CV and really think about the skills you have – not just in the workplace but your life skills too.”
A simple weekday template can help:
- Morning: job-search admin, training, or networking messages
- Midday: exercise or time outside
- Afternoon: applications, calls, or skill-building
- Evening: rest, social time, hobbies
The point isn’t to be perfect; it’s to keep moving, even in small steps.
3. Learn, volunteer, or pivot
If your industry feels uncertain, this can be a chance – unwelcome as it may be – to look sideways as well as straight ahead.
You could:
- Take an online course to update or broaden your skills
- Volunteer, even a few hours a week, to keep your confidence and routine alive
- Explore part-time or portfolio work while you figure out your next full-time move
“There is always something to do if we look,” says Champ. “Have faith. Show the world that you can adapt and find excitement in the unknown – it could end up being a blessing in disguise.
“We have to let go of trying to control and intellectualise every aspect of our lives and become more fluid, especially when something drastic happens to us, like losing our job.”
It’s not about pretending redundancy is wonderful; it’s about acknowledging that a chapter has closed, and another is now available to be written.
Redundancy doesn’t define you
Redundancy can feel like someone else has written a brutal twist into your life story without asking your permission. But it is a chapter, not the whole book.
You’re allowed to grieve. You’re allowed to be scared. You’re allowed to be angry that this happened in the first place.
At the same time, you’re still the person who built a career, learned skills, helped colleagues, juggled deadlines, raised kids, paid rent, or simply turned up on days when you really didn’t feel like it. That doesn’t vanish when a company restructures or a sector changes direction.
As with any ugly lie on a golf course, the only way out is one shot at a time: talk, grieve, look after yourself, gather information, ask for help, and then, when you’re ready, start swinging at the future again.
Redundancy may have changed your scorecard, but it hasn’t taken you off the course.