When Someone Finally Sees You

Last week, someone said something to me that nearly stopped me in my tracks: “I’m sorry you’re going through that.”

Those words might not seem like much, but they hit me harder than I could have imagined. In more than 22 months since losing my job, no one had ever said that to me. Not once. That simple acknowledgment brought tears to my eyes.

And what’s even more striking is that the conversation wasn’t even about job loss—it started as a conversation about money, a financial obligation. But somewhere in the back and forth, the surface-level stuff slipped away, and it turned into something real. Something honest. For the first time in nearly two years, someone wasn’t brushing my experience aside or changing the subject. They didn’t treat my job loss like it was contagious. They just said the words I’d been longing to hear. They saw me and acknowledged that this is hard.

Job Loss as the Elephant in the Room

Job loss is often treated like the elephant in the room. People know it happened, they know it’s painful, but rather than acknowledging it, they tiptoe around it. Maybe they’re uncomfortable. Maybe they don’t know what to say. Or maybe it’s just easier to pretend everything is fine.

But just like grief, job loss doesn’t go away when you ignore it. It festers. It weighs on you. And it’s only through acknowledgment—through being seen—that we begin to heal.

Psychologists have long compared job loss to other forms of grief, because that’s exactly what it is: grief for the identity we tied to our careers, grief for the daily routine that kept us grounded, grief for the plans we thought were set in stone. The research is clear: losing a job doesn’t just affect your bank account, it impacts your mental health, your self-worth, and even your physical body.

The Invisible Weight

I’ve never really talked openly about what this period of my life has done to me physically, but it’s time. Alongside the anxiety, I’ve also developed alopecia—a condition where stress literally causes my hair to fall out.

It might sound trivial to some, but it’s not just about hair. It’s about watching your body change because of the pressure you’re under. It’s about carrying something on the outside that mirrors the pain on the inside. Research shows how chronic stress floods the body with cortisol, and over time, it can literally shut down the cells that keep hair growing. That’s been my reality.

When I look in the mirror and see those changes, I’m reminded of the toll this has taken. And while I don’t often talk about it, I feel the weight of how others treat me because of it. I may not say anything, but I notice. I take note of the friends who vanished, the ones who avoided the conversation, the ones who saw my struggle and chose selfishness instead of compassion.

When Empathy Is Missing

What has shocked me the most isn’t just losing a job. It’s what I’ve learned about people. Empathy seems to be in short supply.

I’ve had people take advantage of my business during this time, piling on financial strain without a second thought. I’ve poured my own money into projects at someone else’s request—hundreds of dollars out of my pocket—only to be ghosted without apology or explanation. And then, to add insult to injury, that same person turned around and sent me an invoice for their own services, as if my time, energy, and losses didn’t matter at all.

It’s moments like that when the lack of empathy in this world feels crushing. It’s not just the loss of income—it’s the loss of humanity in the interactions that follow.

Why Acknowledgment Matters

That’s why those words last week meant so much. “I’m sorry you’re going through that.” They weren’t a solution, they weren’t advice, they weren’t an attempt to sweep things under the rug. They were simply acknowledgment.

And acknowledgment is powerful. Studies on grief and trauma show that social support—being seen and validated—can be one of the most protective factors against depression and anxiety. Sometimes, the most healing thing you can do for someone isn’t to fix their problem, but to stand beside them in it and say, I see your pain. I know it’s real.

That’s what I wish more people understood. Job loss doesn’t just vanish when you stop talking about it. It doesn’t get lighter when people ignore it. Like grief, it needs to be spoken, processed, and respected.

What I’ve Learned

Here’s the truth: I’m still learning how to navigate all of this. I’m still learning how to carry the anxiety, the hair loss, the betrayal, and the disappointments without letting them break me. I’m still figuring out how to show up in a world that often doesn’t want to see me.

But what I know for sure is this: empathy matters. Words matter. And acknowledgment matters.

If you know someone who’s lost their job, don’t treat it like the elephant in the room. Don’t disappear. Don’t look away. Even if you don’t know what to say, say something. Say “I’m sorry you’re going through this.” Because those words might just be the lifeline they’ve been waiting for.

And if you’re the one going through it—like me—know that your grief is valid. Your struggle is real. And you deserve to be seen.