Retrenchment is one of those words that lands with a thud. One moment, life moves on familiar tracks. The next, the ground shifts and suddenly, you're standing in the rubble of what was, staring into the unknown of what's next.
While the circumstances were difficult, I made a conscious decision not to let that moment define me. The very next day, I chose action small, clear steps. I updated my CV. I sat with my budget, identifying where I could adjust and pull back. I created a simple to-do list, not to chase productivity for its own sake, but to anchor myself. To move forward, no matter what forward looked like that day.
I kept my story close at first. I wasn’t ready to narrate it to the world, not even to those closest to me. I needed space to feel the weight of what had happened, to let the emotions come without performance. It’s easy to spiral in times like these, to feel untethered, unsure of where to begin. But one truth gently repeated itself to me: what’s done is done. And the only choice left was to keep walking.
What lingered heavily wasn’t just my own circumstance, but the colleagues beside me the ones also retrenched, and those left behind to carry on amid the absence. That grief, that sense of collective loss, is harder to speak about but just as real. It’s not just about jobs it’s about people.
Then came the messages. The calls. Little acts of kindness from friends and former coworkers that reached in and reminded me, I wasn’t alone. There was solidarity in our shared experience, even if every story looked different. It helped me believe, quietly but firmly, that everything will be okay eventually.
This isn't a guide or a lesson. It’s just my truth. If you’re in a similar space, know this, even if today feels like a cliff, tomorrow can be a path. And you’re allowed to take your time finding it.
~Nerusha
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