Surviving layoffs, uncertainty, and unexpected turns
I was scrolling Threads recently — mostly to interrupt my own doom-spiral for a minute — when I saw a comment from another shepherd mentioning the tiny West Virginia town where I grew up (at least in my early years).
We’ve never met. She lives in Georgia; I’m in the Pacific Northwest. But somehow, we lived in the same place at the same time.
It reminded me that everyone carries a story. And most of those stories include at least one unexpected plot twist.
Right now, it feels like a lot of people are living through the job-loss kind.
Over the last few months, the topic has come up more among my friends than it had in the decade before. And while I chose to leave my previous career — which I tend to describe as escaping an abusive relationship — my husband Scott was laid off last September.
Depending on how you count, it’s the third or fourth time since 2014. That sounds more dramatic than I intended. It’s not uncommon in his field.
It’s not my place to tell Scott’s story. But I can tell you mine — as a working mom, a partner, and someone trying to keep life stitched together while everything felt like it was unraveling.
First — if this is happening to you
I am so sorry.
Job loss feels terrifying and isolating, even when you’re surrounded by people who love you. Especially when you’re already carrying a household, kids, aging parents — everything we hold every day.
The first time Scott and I went through it, our third baby was three months old. I was working full-time, but my paycheck barely covered our mortgage.
I didn’t feel like I could take the time to knit, or do any making at all. (That was a mistake, BTW.)
I felt scared. Angry. Completely alone.
And it was a secret — at least until Scott was ready to share — which made everything heavier.
Here’s what I wish I’d known then.
Tell someone you trust
Job loss is not a personal failure.
Secrecy gives shame room to grow — and shame hates light. You don’t owe anyone details or updates. A simple “yeah, it’s a tough season” is enough.
And if someone confides in you? Listen with empathy. Please don’t ask about job updates every time you see them. If there’s news, they’ll tell you.
Identify your resources early
Think of this like gathering supplies before starting a big project.
- Apply for unemployment.
- Learn your healthcare options.
- Ask lenders about temporary payment reductions.
If you can secure backup financing before income officially stops, consider it. Breathing room matters.
Make a *simple* plan
When everything feels uncertain, structure helps.
Choose 3–5 decision points based on savings, expenses, and timing.
When anxiety starts spinning — and it will — you can return to the plan and focus on the next stitch instead of the whole blanket.
Treat the job search like an important part-time job
Not full-time.
Two to four focused hours a day is often more sustainable — especially if you’re also working, caregiving, or trying to keep life moving forward.
Think of yourself as a business: How do you build credibility? Show leadership? Make it easy for people to say yes?
Do that.
If you're the partner... maybe butt out a little
I say this with love — and as someone who is spectacularly bad at it.
Support matters. Encouragement matters.
But autonomy matters too.
Take weekends off
Rest is not laziness. It’s maintenance.
The job hunt is more like knitting an heirloom blanket than ear band. You need breaks to keep going.
Ask for — and accept — help
Networking. Meals. Childcare. School pickup.
A friend who texts you and reminds you you’re still brilliant.
When people know what’s happening, they often want to help but don’t know how. Let them.
And on the days when feelings take over — because they will — give yourself grace. Then pick up the thread again tomorrow.
The part nobody likes to say out loud
It sucks.
The waiting and uncertainty hum in the background of everything. Well-meaning people love to say the next job is right around the corner — but that’s usually their anxiety talking.
There’s no way to predict timing. In many ways, it’s a numbers game.
And still — this time feels different to me. Maybe because we’ve been through it before. I know now that whatever happens, we will figure it out.
You will too.
Plot twists don't always look like hope... at first
After Scott lost his job the first time — after cross-country moves, losing childcare, and burning myself out trying to rebuild our life — I suddenly and unexpectedly imagined myself standing on a hillside with sheep.
I still can’t explain why or how.
But now I live my life on a hillside with sheep for real.
Sometimes survival is the only goal at first.
Sometimes survival quietly becomes transformation.
So… what’s your story?