Use Your Words: The Hardest Chapter Taught Me the Most

“Sometimes when you're in a dark place, you think you've been buried, but you've actually been planted.” — Christine Caine

In December last year, I was made redundant.

Even now, it feels strange to write that. Redundancy is a word we hear often, but until it happens to you, you don’t truly understand the weight it carries. It’s not just about losing a job. It’s about losing your rhythm. Your purpose. Your identity.

What I’m sharing here is my experience — my truth. We all respond differently. Our pain looks different. Our healing looks different. But I’ve learned that by using our words, we offer not only clarity to ourselves — but comfort to others. This is how I coped, how I rebuilt, and what helped me find my way back to myself.

The Morning After

The hardest part was the mornings.

I’d wake up and think, What do I do today? I’d reach for my phone and start doom-scrolling — comparing, spiraling, watching others carry on with seemingly perfect lives while I sat in a fog. It made me feel worse. Useless. Behind. Alone.

I describe those early days as feeling chained to a heavy boulder. Emotionally stuck. My thoughts were racing, my energy low, my identity blurred. It started with denial, then came this strange, shapeless pain. Then shame.

And yet — there was also something else. A strange sense of freedom. Like I was on some kind of holiday… but one I hadn’t chosen, and didn’t know how long would last. There were moments that felt like I was playing the role of a “lady of leisure,” but it was laced with guilt. It felt false. Like I was borrowing time I hadn’t earned.

It was disorienting. To feel low and lost, but also like I should be grateful for the pause. That emotional tension — between relief and shame — is something I still find hard to name.

It wasn’t just sadness. It was grief. And confusion. And contradiction.

Use Your Words

There’s a phrase I often say to my son when he’s overwhelmed: Use your words. It’s not just parenting advice — it’s neuroscience. Naming our emotions helps form new neural pathways — from the amygdala (where fear and pain live) to the prefrontal cortex (where we reason, reflect, choose). It's how we move from reaction to awareness.

I had to start doing that for myself. And in doing so, I gave myself permission to slow down. To feel. To speak gently to myself, too.

Gold Nuggets and Glimmers

I started small. A short walk. A slow cup of tea. A moment of silence. Gratitude became my anchor. Some days, I was grateful for nothing more than a breeze or the warmth of sunlight through a window.

And then came the gold nuggets — little moments where things began to click again. I started to feel a spark. I could see more clearly. I felt more. I sensed more. And most of all — I loved more.

That love — it came from my family, and my dog, who never left my side. Their presence reminded me I wasn’t alone, even on the hardest days. My dog didn’t care about titles or job offers. He sat with me, walked with me, and looked at me with the same love every day. That, in itself, was healing.

Finding Structure When the Ground Feels Shaky

Structure became my anchor — but not the rigid, productivity-obsessed kind. My version of structure gave me stability, purpose, and space to breathe. It gave me back a little control each day.

Here’s what worked for me:

• Refreshed my CV so it reflected not just what I’d done, but who I had become
• Updated my LinkedIn profile and added the #OpenToWork badge (though I advise caution — be alert to scammers, and there’s plenty of good advice online on what to look out for)
• Connected with my network — I scheduled 2–3 coffee catch-ups a week. These conversations grounded me and often gave me unexpected perspective and energy
• Created a marketing plan for myself — this was one of the most clarifying things I did. It helped me identify what I was great at, what didn’t light me up anymore, and what skills I wanted to use moving forward. I treated myself as a brand — with a value proposition, an audience, and a message. It changed how I spoke about myself and what I was aiming for
• Committed to daily exercise — not just for physical health, but to manage cortisol, and release dopamine and endorphins
• Got dressed for work every day — it sounds simple, but it helped me mentally transition into a purposeful mindset
• Used AI tools — embracing AI helped bring clarity to my resume, application responses, and even boosted my confidence. Many application processes are now screened through AI, so it’s important to learn how to work with these tools rather than fear them. We’ve lost a lot of the human touch in recruitment, so anything that adds clarity and structure can be incredibly empowering

Finding structure isn’t about doing more — it’s about doing what helps. And what helps will look different for everyone. You don’t need to follow anyone else’s system. You just need to find the rhythm that gives you peace and clarity.

This Was the Hardest Chapter — And It Taught Me the Most

There were many moments I didn’t talk about. The silence after job applications. The rejections. The feeling that I didn’t want to worry my loved ones — so I kept it all inside.

One of the hardest things? There was no one to say, “Well done.” No performance review. No KPIs. No scorecard or spreadsheet to measure progress. Even when I managed to draft a cover letter on a hard day, it felt silly to praise myself. I wasn’t used to that. I’d spent years relying on external validation — through education, research, work metrics.

But slowly, I created that recognition for myself. I reminded myself: You showed up today. And eventually, it didn’t feel corny — it felt necessary. And then, over time, it started to feel real.

And I’m sharing this now because when I published my last article on personal branding, so many people reached out and said, “Thank you. That helped me.” And this — this story — is the one I think more people need to hear.

To Those Going Through It

Please don’t hide away.

Reach out. Start small. Talk to someone. Take a walk. Write your feelings. Sit with your dog, hug your child, be held by your people.

Find your rhythm — even if it’s slow.

You are not your job title. You are not your income. You are not a burden.

You are worthy. You are growing. You are still becoming.

Hold on. The sparkle comes back.