Unemployment Grief You Feel But No One Sees

You are grieving. You are not alone. Please recognize and accept the loss of purpose and paycheck.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve been talking with friends, colleagues, and clients across the federal ecosystem—USAID, State, contractors, NGO partners, EFMs—who are all somewhere along this uncertain road.

• Some are reeling from RIF notices and dreams dashed.

• Others are still waiting for whatever an inbox refresh brings them.

• A few are pretending everything’s fine while quietly wondering: Am I next?

These conversations feel familiar to me. I’m Dr. Huong Diep. I’ve worked in international disaster response and understand what it means to live in that in-between space—when nothing’s happened yet, but your body already knows something is coming.

This Is Heavy

And what I keep hearing is the same quiet question: “Why does this feel so heavy?”

Because it is heavy.

You’re not imagining it. This stuff builds. And not just because of the loss itself—but because of the invisible weight of being misunderstood.

Most people outside our community don’t really get what federal or humanitarian professionals do. They might think it’s just paperwork or travel. So when your job disappears—or shifts overnight—you’re grieving the loss and having to explain it.

This Is Grief

Not the kind of grief that gets sympathy cards. But hey, maybe it should? This is grief that lingers, shapeshifts, and doesn’t follow a clear timeline.

Here are five types of grief you may not have heard of—but might be feeling:

1. Ambiguous Loss

The slow, uncertain kind. Like when a loved one has dementia—they’re here, but not the same. In work, it might look like still being on the team, but excluded from decisions and updates.

You’re technically there, but not.

There’s no clear loss to point to, which makes it harder to grieve—just a lingering sense that something important has shifted. It can leave you questioning your value, your role, or even your reality.

2. Anticipatory Grief

Grief that shows up before the loss. Like knowing your contract might end—but not knowing when. You’re already carrying the emotional weight before it’s official.

The uncertainty keeps you on edge, making it hard to be present or hopeful, because part of you is already bracing for impact.

3. Disenfranchised Grief

When others don’t understand the depth of what you’ve lost—whether it’s a role, a mission, or a version of yourself—and they respond with “at least” language that leaves you feeling even more alone.

You’re grieving relationships, impact, and purpose—things that don’t fit neatly on a resume. When that’s dismissed or reduced to a stereotype, the grief becomes harder to share—and easier to minimize.

4. Prolonged Grief

When loss drags on without resolution. It’s not just about sadness—it’s about waiting in limbo, refreshing your inbox for updates that never come, hearing “we’ll know more soon” over and over again.

It’s the emotional toll of not being able to move forward because there’s no clear end—or the goalposts keep shifting. This kind of grief often shows up as exhaustion, numbness, or feeling stuck in a loop.

5. Collective Grief

When entire teams or communities carry the weight together. We saw it during COVID. We’re seeing it again now. And yet, many people hesitate to reach out—worried they’ll burden others who are also struggling. The result is a shared silence, even when everyone is hurting.

What Helps Me

When these losses go unnamed, they can feel invisible—even to ourselves. You might catch yourself wondering: Why am I so tired? Why can’t I focus? Am I overreacting?

You’re not overreacting. This stuff builds. And when the world doesn’t understand what you do or why it matters, it can feel like grieving in isolation.

When I catch myself spinning—replaying conversations, refreshing email, trying to plan with no ground beneath me—I come back to something simple and physical: grounding through the body.

As an RPCV, I found myself returning to these exact practices the weekend I heard about DOGE’s visit to Peace Corps HQ. My body knew before my brain did that something had shifted.

Why It Works

When we’re stressed, our survival brain kicks in—fight, flight, or freeze. It’s helpful when we’re in danger—not so helpful when we’re trying to decode a vague HR email.

This stress response pulls energy away from the prefrontal cortex—the part of your brain responsible for planning, decision-making, and emotional regulation.

The practices below help regulate your nervous system and gently signal: You’re safe. You can come back to the present.

Start with the Body

1. Box Breathing (4-4-4-4)

There are steps to this very simple yet effective technique. In fact, you are probably doing this already, but just didn’t know its official name or preferred structure.

• Inhale for 4 seconds

• Hold for 4 seconds

• Exhale for 4 seconds

• Hold for 4 seconds

• Repeat 3–4 times

No special tools required—just your breath. Your body reminds your brain: It’s okay to pause. I am safe.

2. Vagus Nerve Activation

The vagus nerve is like a communication superhighway between your brain and body. It helps regulate your heart rate, digestion, and emotional calm.

When we’re anxious or overwhelmed, this nerve can get “stuck,” keeping us in survival mode. That’s where simple physical strategies help.

One of my favorites is the Butterfly Hug.

• Cross your arms over your chest like a self-hug.

• Rest your hands on your opposite upper arms or shoulders.

• Gently tap back and forth—left, right, left, right.

• Breathe slowly or close your eyes as you tap.

This back-and-forth rhythm helps your body shift from hyper-alert to grounded. It’s often used in trauma therapy and can be done anytime—at your desk, on a walk, or while lying down.

Other calming bilateral movements:

• Walking

• Gentle rocking

• Listening to binaural beats (with headphones). These help the brain “reintegrate” and move out of stress mode.

3. Engage Your Senses (5-4-3-2-1)

This grounding technique helps bring your focus back to now, when your thoughts are spiraling into the future.

Name out loud :

• 5 things you can see

• 4 things you can touch

• 3 things you can hear

• 2 things you can smell

• 1 thing you can taste

Bonus: Do something with your hands—drawing, gardening, painting, knitting, cooking. These sensory-rich activities calm the brain and keep you off your phone.

4. Check in With Your Basics

Sometimes what we’re calling “overwhelming” is just a basic need going unmet.

Ask yourself: Am I Hungry? Angry? Lonely? Tired?

It’s a gentle way to reconnect with your body and meet yourself with compassion.

5. GRAPES Framework

This simple tool helps you reflect on the small, meaningful things that support emotional balance. Ask:

• Gentleness – Was I kind to myself today?

• Relaxation – Did I do something to unwind?

• Accomplishment – Did I complete something (even something small)?

• Pleasure – Did I enjoy something today?

• Exercise – Did I move my body?

• Social Connection – Did I interact with someone meaningfully?

You don’t have to hit all six every day. Even just one or two can gently shift your nervous system toward regulation.

Once you feel more grounded in your body, that’s when you can start to explore cognitive shifts (e.g. gratitude journaling, wheel of life visualization, cognitive restructuring, etc)—but the body comes first. I’ll speak more to cognitive/brain shifts in the next post.

What I’m Reminding Myself

• I don’t have to explain or justify my grief. This isn’t just about work—it’s about identity, routine, and belonging.

• I’m allowed to feel what I feel.

• A few deep breaths won’t fix everything—but they help me come back to myself. And that’s where healing begins.