There’s a story we’re supposed to tell when we lose our jobs in our fifties. It’s supposed to be inspirational. We’re supposed to talk about exciting new chapters and reinvention. About how getting laid off was actually a gift that pushed us to finally start that consulting business or write that novel or whatever other silver lining we’re expected to find.

This isn’t that story.

I joined what I thought was a routine Zoom call with my new manager. Fifteen minutes later, my world turned upside down. Years of dedication, consecutive years of “exceeds expectations” reviews, all ended in a sterile virtual meeting with no warning. The irony of being laid off through the same technology that had become our lifeline during the pandemic wasn’t lost on me.

The first week wasn’t just about processing the loss of a job – it was pure panic. Living in the Netherlands, my right to stay in the country was directly tied to my employment. Suddenly, I wasn’t just job hunting; I was racing against time to maintain the life I’d built here. Every hour became a countdown, every day a reminder that my world had become precarious.

That first Monday morning at home hit differently. No alarm. No commute. No emails demanding immediate attention. Just silence and the weight of questions I never thought I’d face at this stage of my life. Who am I without my job title? What’s my value when years of exceeding expectations can be erased in a fifteen-minute Zoom call? How do you rebuild when you’re not just fighting for a new job, but for the right to stay in the country you now call home?

Here’s what nobody tells you about losing your job in your fifties: it’s not just about the paycheck or the career. It’s about losing part of your identity. It’s about facing job listings that ask for “digital natives” and “fresh perspectives” when you remember installing your first email program. It’s about wondering if you’re too old to start over but too young to give up. And sometimes, like in my case, it’s about fighting to keep the life you’ve built in a country you’ve grown to love.

Well-meaning friends and family keep sharing success stories. “Veronica lost her job at 55 and now she runs a successful Etsy shop!” or “Michael started his own consulting firm and makes twice what he used to!” They mean well, but right now, those stories feel like pressure rather than inspiration. Right now, some days feel like a win when I got dressed, rode my bike to language school trying to pay attention while wondering if I will beat the ticking clock on my residency status.

The nights are the hardest. That’s when the questions come: How did three years of exceeding expectations not matter? Was there something I could have done differently? The rational part of my brain knows this was about corporate decisions, not personal performance. But at 3 AM, rationality isn’t always your closest friend.

I’m not writing for sympathy. I’m writing this because somewhere out there, someone else is sitting in their quiet house on a Monday morning, feeling like they’re the only one who isn’t bouncing back immediately. Someone else is tired of pretending they see this as an “exciting opportunity for growth” when really, it feels like having the rug pulled out from under their entire life.

If that’s you, here’s what I want you to know: It’s okay to not be okay right now.

It’s okay to be angry at the impersonal nature of modern layoffs. It’s okay to be scared about your future, especially if, like me, you’re facing immigration challenges on top of everything else. It’s okay to not have a perfect plan or an inspirational comeback story ready to go. Your feelings are valid, and you don’t need to rush through them to make others comfortable.

Yes, I’m taking small steps forward. Some days those steps look like updating my resume or reaching out to old colleagues. Other days, they look like allowing myself to grieve what I’ve lost while navigating a job search after being employed for more than 25 years. Both kinds of days are necessary. Both kinds of days are progress.

Someday I’ll have one of those inspiring comeback stories to tell. I believe I’ll find something better than what I lost, or maybe I’ll forge a completely different path. But right now, I’m just taking it one day at a time. And if you’re in the same boat, know that you’re not alone. We don’t need to have it all figured out today.

The story of losing your job at 52 doesn’t have to be inspirational. Sometimes it can just be real.

Remember, our story is far from over – let’s keep Enjoying the Journey!

…..Comments are open below. If you’re going through something similar, feel free to share your story. Sometimes just knowing we’re not alone in this makes the journey a little easier.